#one of my favourite poems of all time ever it's one that really Does need to be read in full like quotation will not reproduce the effect

[catilinas]

Dunt: a poem for a dried up river

Alice Oswald

Very small and damaged and quite dry, a Roman water nymph made of bone tries to summon a river out of limestone

very eroded faded her left arm missing and both legs from the knee down a Roman water nymph made of bone tries to summon a river out of limestone

exhausted        utterly worn down

a Roman water nymph made of bone being the last known speaker of her language she tries to summon a river out of limestone

little distant sound of dry grass        try again

a Roman water nymph made of bone very endangered now in a largely unintelligible monotone she tries to summon a river out of limestone

little distant sound as of dry grass     try again

exquisite bone figurine with upturned urn in her passionate self-esteem she smiles looking sideways she seemingly has no voice but a throat-clearing rustle

as of dry grass                                        try again

she tries leaning pouring pure outwardness out of a grey urn little slithering sounds as of a rabbit man in full night-gear, who lies so low in the rickety willowherb that a fox trots out of the woods and over his back and away              try again

she tries leaning pouring pure outwardness out of a grey urn little lapping sounds        yes as of dry grass secretly drinking        try again

little lapping sounds    yes as of dry grass secretly drinking        try again

Roman bone figurine year after year in a sealed glass case having lost the hearing of her surroundings she struggles to summon a river out of limestone

little shuffling sound as of approaching slippers

year after year in a sealed glass case a Roman water nymph made of bone she struggles to summon a river out of limestone

little shuffling sound as of a nearly dried-up woman not really moving through the fields having had the gleam taken out of her to the point where she resembles twilight        try again

little shuffling clicking she opens the door of the church little distant sounds of shut-away singing    try again

little whispering fidgeting of a shut-away congregation wondering who to pray to little patter of eyes closing                                    try again

very small and damaged and quite dry a Roman water nymph made of bone she pleads she pleads a river out of limestone

little hobbling tripping of a nearly dried-up river not really moving through the fields, having had the gleam taken out of it to the point where it resembles twilight. little grumbling shivering last-ditch attempt at a river more nettles than water                                        try again

very speechless very broken old woman her left arm missing and both legs from the knee down she tries to summon a river out of limestone

little stoved-in sucked thin low-burning glint of stones rough-sleeping and trembling and clinging to its rights victim of Swindon puddle midden slum of over-greened foot-churn and pats whose crayfish are cheap tool-kits made of the mud stirred up when a stone's lifted

it's a pitiable likeness of clear running struggling to keep up with what's already gone the boat the wheel the sluice gate the two otters larricking along                                     go on

and they say oh they say in the days of better rainfall it would flood through five valleys there'd be cows and milking stools washed over the garden walls and when it froze you could skate for five miles      yes go on

little loose end shorthand unrepresented beautiful disused route to the sea fish path with nearly no fish in

[loveydovey-leviathan]

iwaizumi x gn!reader

.

iwaizumi hajime is hopelessly in love with you, that much is certain- and it’s in everything he does for you. he lets you buy stupidly overpriced cereal that’s only priced so absurdly because of the little toys they have inside, and you already have an entire shelf of them at home. he always orders your favourite flavour of ice cream because you always ask for a bite of his food. he wears short sleeves and tank tops around the house because he knows you like touching his arms. he listens to everything you say and remembers the details of every single story, even if he couldn’t give less of a shit about the people in them. he loves you to heaven and back, you so much as say please and no matter how much he grumbles, anything he could ever give you is yours.

but maybe there is a limit to how much he can give you. maybe he’s spoiled you too much (he has).

“you're pretty,” you say with an innocent smile. like you haven’t been teasing him with this nickname since you both laid in bed. he doesn’t even try to turn his head to look at the time because he knows that whatever he sees won’t do him any good.

“stop it,” he grumbles, shoving his head further into your chest. he feels you softly combing your fingers through his locks, and he silently curses the effect you have on him. already, he’s starting to feel sleepy.

“my pretty princess~” you chuckle.

“go to sleep, [ ___ ]” his voice is muffled from his position, and his arms wrapped around your waist tighten as a warning, but he doesn’t do anything else to stop you. and apparently, that’s enough of a sign for you to keep going.

“my pretty little haji,”

“wha- little?” 

“yep,” popping the ‘p’ at the end. “my handsome, gorgeous, beautiful hajime,”.

to that, his face starts to flush. and he turns his head away so you can’t see him.

it’s not as though he doesn’t like being complimented. of course he does, especially by the love of his life. he’s just a bit… awkward to say the least. growing up with a pretty boy, watching people gushing over how handsome oikawa was when he was right there didn’t exactly do wonders for his self-esteem. 

“haji? you okay there?”

his thoughts are interrupted by your voice.

“m’fine,” he mumbles.

“besides, you’re the pretty one here,” he says in an attempt to woo you, and so hopefully you don’t pry into the topic.

it doesn’t work, for the most part.

“thank you, haji. but i still think you’re prettier,” 

he knows you know what he was thinking. it’s one of the many reasons he fell in love. the way you always seem to know how to cheer him up. how you never take any of his harsh words to heart because you know he doesn’t mean any of them. the fact that you see all he does for you; he doesn’t need to write you love poems or speak sugary words to show how much he loves you. 

and he sees all you do for him as well. when you finish the food he makes even if you don’t like it. how you make lunch for him every day because he always forgets. when you text him throughout the day just to check up on him or just to hear his voice. the little post-it notes you leave in the mirror before you go to sleep so he sees them the next morning when he gets ready for his early day run. he sees it all. 

and he thinks life really couldn’t get any better, laying in bed with his lover late at night as they praise him endlessly- just because they want to.

[bromcommie]

free verse poem for @catws-anniversary, day 4 | theme: natasha romanoff | prompt: favourite natasha quote, disguise, trust issues

The truth is a matter of circumstance -

this, you know. Or at least this is what you have been taught, your skin made to learn it over and over and over raw repetition, the mother of all knowledge:

The truth is not all things to all people, and you know this because you've seen men make a living of the truth - shaping and moulding it, a convenient tool to build up myths and nations and gods, break down empires, paint history a dull, inconspicuous color with it. (Blood is never red when it dries, but it does leave stains: dark maroon for the loving glide of Soviet slugs through the organs, overripe date for the shadows of American bombs in bright desert sand. You've collected more conflicting shades than any artist.)

The truth is not all things to all people, and you know this because you have been the clay in their hands and you have been the hatchet chopping away and you have been a footnote in the histories, but your name is not in any of the books. (You have never been any of the men pointing the stick.) Does that matter? What difference does that make? None, except for how sometimes you miss the paper trail you were taught not to leave, how you catch yourself missing the belonging inherent in Alianovna no matter how fabricated, catch yourself wanting evidence that you were ever Natalia before you were Natasha before you were Natalie - Nat - - Tasha - - Widow, with your face plastered all over glittering billboards and your Mona Lisa smile like an autopsy cut. There's really nothing the stars and stripes love more than a good, old-fashioned dissection. So go on. Spread 'em, belly up, label maker in hand ready to agonize over a name for each part, make it neat and palatable for public consumption. Murder Natalia Romanova in cold blood so that Natasha Romanoff can walk away with clean hands; drag the body around because, what - can't you take the silent weight? You weren't planning on living in it, were you? This vicious little animal thing, with sunken eyes and deformed feet? (common side effect of strained movement: hallux valgus. Common side effect of being stepped on one too many times: shrinking.) You wanted that to remain your truth? Forget it - it's too much work, anyway, explaining, and you've been wearing the face of English too long and still don't have all the words you need. (The ones in your head don't count. The truth is for handing out to the people out there, not for ruminating on inside the confines of your own brain.) So chop chop. Hack yourself down to a convenient size, an easily describable shape, a prime cut all juicy and tender. Fit it in the soft pink parts of your mouth where it's the least threatening, the most deadly, just another name to play at your ruby lips. (Most people usually miss the knife at their throat if they're looking at your smile. Most people don't know that all other animals only smile as a threat.)

You are not most people, but you'll pretend anyway because this is what you wanted, isn't it, here is what you ran to: something starkly redacted, something more black and white. A kinder guiding hand. A way to wash the blood off your hands with different, simpler blood, except that - Except that you got sloppy, didn't you. You got complacent and forgetful; all of it, the playing nice and playing parts in games that always somehow end logically, storybook and wrapped up in softened movement and all those eyecatching, carefully controlled curves, every Disney executive's wet dream. And all that carving, my God - it made you tired instead of hungry, didn't it, and you forgot. Forgot that there's value in being many things all at once, forgot that you were still holding the knife until you got carried away and drew real blood, let yourself bleed slow along with the familiar face on the other side of the glass of the OR room. You forgot what it's like to lose, is the thing, and so you let the many-eyed, many-headed sweet-tongued cancer grow and spread right under your nose, and you didn't even notice until it was too late.

It's a straight hit to where you live, isn't it. Second bullet with your ego's name on it, fool me once and all that nonsense, but forget about the anger for a second. Let's focus on the bleeding, on the sharp thing lodged in your throat, the aching pain in your shoulder: here is a reminder from your dead and buried. Here are all your ghosts coming back to haunt you in the shape of many deadly little hands, many false little platitudes, the burn of blinding sunlight off of unyielding metal; primal terror that used to be a kindness. Here is what you are, here is what every one of you has in common, the birthplace of the common denominator of all your truths: survival.

You forgot because it really was too much work, anyway, finding the right words to say, I didn't orchestrate the pain of the Department's stick over my spine or the War that burnt down all our apple orchards or the Long Cold One that came right after, I didn't set my finger to the trigger, but: I still pulled it. I still believed in the bullet, the future it was supposed to bring - no more children with concave stomachs, no more shrinking from being stepped on. I believed and wanted to impress and belong and be untouchable, maybe. Make my spine immune to the stick. So it was not me, you see, apologies for the confusion. It was not this me in front of you, except in all the ways that it was, will be, is still. I am my survival, I was that which I had to survive, and I will be that which will make its way out of the dark in the end. (You are not afraid of the dark. Like all children of war, you know that real fear is born of fire.)

There's the truth you know. You've seen its glowing eyes and its snarling snout in the soft golden strands of a girl grown from the foam of the Black Sea but grown hard in the oblivion white of the tundra, in the artillery midnight sun over Volgograd - Stalingrad - Volgograd, you keep forgetting, in the face of a deprived stray with its ribs sticking out in broad daylight, lips pulled back. Your own face in the mirror through fogged glass. Don't you recognize it? Don't you know this thing with too many teeth, hungry and frightened, like the times that birthed it? Don't you rememeber? (Which times? Does it matter? Any, some, all at once. The truth is not beholden to time, and it's not supposed to be.) Smile, krasotka. Don't we get a smile? Let me see that pretty face, baby, come on. Let me see those teeth bared, inspected like a show animal's, let me see if there's any blood on them. Turns out you're still a commodity, just for a different market. So: break yourself all over again, make yourself unmarketable, undesirable, ungovernable. Because the truth is white-hot, sometimes, the truth gets angry, the truth claws its way out under history's shadows and leaves marks of its own.

The truth is not all - The truth is that which -

The truth - well. The truth is just one of many, is that which you've been running from, is a shapeshifting beast, a useful weapon, a sign of the times. What does that make you? What's it matter? It doesn't. But sometimes you look at the blond man with too many obvious bruises and the soft eyes and the string-calloused hands that spell your name all chopped up T-A-S-H-A before they shorten it to a single sign just a fond blur and you don't even mind the boldness of that familiarity, and you think: maybe it should. Maybe it should matter.

You look at another blond man with the invisible bruises and the lonely guarded eyes and the slow but overwhelming trust in the human parts of you, asking the wrong questions that aren't questions and expecting plain answers, and you think: I should know better than to keep falling for this. You could scoop it out, you think. All the soft compromised parts of him, all that big emotion written all over the sky, expansive and wide: too obvious, too exhausting, too American, all that painful picturebook blue.

It's embarrassing, really. Undignified. You could tear it out of him and twist it into any shape you wanted to, and you wouldn't even have to try all that hard. (But you don't. You don't. The part of you that hasn't shut up in 70 or maybe 17 years sees his trust and says leverage, meaning opportunity. The quieter, braver part sees it and says badge of honour, meaning: something to hold onto. Something else to remember.)

So instead you look at the man with the invisible angry hurt and too much trust in all that is supposed to be human and you think: maybe you can stop believing in the bullet long enough to let yourself believe in something else. So run it through one more time, until it sticks like broken bones did, like knives stuck in moving targets, repetitio est mater studiorum - The truth is a matter of circumstance. It's not all things to all people, all the time, and neither are you.

Meaning, go on: Chuck all of your faces onto a funeral pyre, burn them at the altar of something unfamiliar, something you don't yet have a neat name for. Peeled back, cleaned out like this you still have all your hungers, but maybe you've earned the right to them now. Maybe you can get angry and get even and let the most rabid of all your truths out to stretch their legs, let them snap their jaws but to protect rather than to kill; to exist in all of their conflicting shades and still have a place to lay their head at night. Maybe that can be a cornerstone for something - Not permanent, certainly. Not real, either, because that's just another Americanism that snuck into your vocabulary when you weren't paying attention. Honest, maybe. Maybe you can let the vicious little animal that is you believe in a tomorrow that isn't promised by a myth or the legend of a moulded truth, but that you can still eventually, painstakingly slow put your trust in, and trust it not to break. Maybe.

Maybe seems like enough, for a first second third fresh start.

[ceilidho]

What do you see in poetry? Sorry if this is blunt, but sometimes I struggle to figure out what I'm supposed to do with poetry. Which I realize is probably illogical because poetry doesn't have to be interpreted or have meaning, or do anything. But, I don't know? You have such a wonderful collection, and I love listening to people talk about their passions (I am a sponge), so I was wondering if you'd share what you see in poetry?? What draws you to it? What it means to you?? I'm not sure. I'm sure each of these questions will take you somewhere else, but I definitely would not be upset to listen.

Okay, thanks! Love you and your writing (all of it, even the poetry I'm still trying to figure out how to appreciate)

hmmm i think something that puts a lot of people off poetry is that they feel like the language is unnecessarily complicated or obfuscating, like you need a degree or something to understand the poem's "meaning".

and while i do agree to an extent that some poems are more difficult to dig into than others (im sorry, i will never been a john ashbery fan for this exact reason) and developing the skill to appreciate good poetry does take some time and effort, like it's not an easy, instantaneous thing, i think the beauty of poetry is how it's able to use language in a roundabout way to get at and communicate very complex and nuanced parts of life/human culture.

i love reading poetry for the sheer beauty of language and seeing how it can be bent and twisted into new shapes that somehow still clearly communicate an emotion or a moment or an event. poetry is doing stuff with language that is just out of this world, like stuff you just can't get from prose. it's like quicksilver to me. sometimes something is just too hard to articulate in regular words, but you can get at the root of it by talking around it.

the pleasure of reading a really good poem is part trying to grasp the meaning and part just appreciating and enjoying the way the writer has crafted the language. and you don't have to even "get it" to love a poem - you could come back to it again and again and always take something new away from it.

i also don't think you have to force yourself to appreciate it because it doesn't happen instantaneously and sometimes it's just reading the right thing at the right time. it's like how i never got abstract art, used to actually think little of it, and then one day i came across cy twombly and i was like OH. I GET IT NOW!!!

this is my absolute favourite poem ever written like ever and still i come back to it and find something new and fresh and life changing. the first time i read this in university, i felt something in me just shift two inches to the right, like my whole world was just suddenly different.

[runningfrom2am]

sejanus and coryo not understanding what r is saying when she is quoting a line has got to be one of my favourite things.

“Oh, only being able to hold you without retraumatizing you.” sir-

i love how no matter how much changes in the story, coryo’s hatred towards birds STAY. the boy hates them more than everything.

lennox is making some points with that guilt and love one. being smart is genetic it seems.

you know what? i agree with sejanus so much on the arena part.

i desperately needed someone to tell them what she did in the arena and i’m glad it was sejanus, out of the three who know it. the fact that neither lucy gray nor lennox will be able to process this information as truly real because r, really? oh, how devastating. girlie had convinced herself that [salt->???->staying alive]

“All you did by surviving was make everything weird.” me, one day, probably.

the real comedy is coryo not understanding the joke. also, beatrice the queen <3

she closed her book! she put her book into her bag! she wouldn’t have done that had she not been keen on talking with him. she hadn’t when he first came. 🥹

the fact that she was about to die thinking she was in love while hardly knowing him and now that she is alive, she is living the “what could have been”.

i’m 99% sure that lennox has a calendar where he circled the day coryo will leave, hopefully, with a red marker.

“Watching his eyes- but nothing changes. Baby blue. Worry. More worry.” all i will say is that, this is emotional 🥲

bro i just edited part twenty and it’s over 6k words so get ready hahahah. anyway, let’s dive into this for now!!

1. no me too hahah it’s so funny and coryo tries so hard but sejanus is just always so normal and honest about not really understanding. like at the very beginning when he was like “i thought we were supposed to be mentoring you”, but coryo has always seen her as some kind of walking poem. sejanus loves her honestly, coryo has put her on a pedestal. (not that it’s a bad thing or that he doesn’t love her honestly but he doesn’t try really hard to make her feel understood and she doesn’t even mind)

2. oh my god yeah the DRAMA going on in this man’s head 24/7 hahaha

3. yeah there’s no way that would ever change. (and that makes me believe that tybs will really grow on him lol)

4. we’ve BEEN SAYING THIS like lennox just gets it

5. like,, no one ever thought to ask sejanus what he thought? he was the only other person there! smh

6. literally like they needed to know. she tried to tell lucy gray, but she made the active choice to not tell lennox, even though she doesn’t know the extent of what she had done. (well, she does, she just can’t admit it yet)

7. me now honestly

8. beatrice is such a girlboss i literally love her sm

9. coryo didn’t even have TIME to process the significance of that, he was so focused on keeping her attention 🥹 and bless her HEART she is trying so so hard

10. omg yeah and she totally knows that too 🥹 she’s been comparing them to that story from the very beginning, she doesn’t even know what to do now that she’s seeing the other side. (but also, it’s extremely tragic in a different way, seeing as now she can hardly be around him without shutting down when she wants to be with him so bad)

11. HAHAHA IM SO SURE HE DOES. he is counting down the DAYS

12. as per usual lucy gray was 100% correct and his haircut has made all the difference. she knows her bestie so well

[withereddd-rxsie]

My Surrenderman headcanons

This is my first post ever. I would just like to share some of the headcanons I have about my favourite, sadly underrated character:) I hope I reach some more Surrender fans hiding in the shadows patiently waiting for content.

RELATIONSHIPS WITH HIS BROTHERS

SLENDERMAN:

I like to think of Slenderman as a dictator, who controls through fear and holds everyone affiliated with him to a high standard. He expects perfection from everyone, especially his brothers.

Surrenderman, as the youngest, wants to live up to that impossible standard expected from him. He wants to prove himself as a worthy addition to Slenderman, even if it means risking his mental health. Surrender has always been a people-pleaser, but it gets way out of hand when it comes to Slender. Everything Surrender does is to impress his older brother. He studies and trains hard to improve his abilities and techniques, hoping one day Slender will appreciate his efforts, but he always gets brushed off. Slender in no way coddles his brothers and refuses to give Surrender the validation he so desperately seeks. Surrender works so hard all for nothing, building up a serious tension between the two brothers.

TRENDERMAN:

Trenderman manages to live up to Slenderman's unhealthy expectations. Trender is a huge perfectionist and expects no less from himself and the people around him. He sometimes struggles to find out whether he's doing it for himself or if he's just like Surrenderman, desperately seeking Slender's approval.

Surrenderman finds it hard to talk to Trender, as they barely find any common ground. Surrender feels pressured in the presence of what has basically become Slender 2.0. Whenever he's around either of them, there's this huge mountain of expectation dwelling on his shoulders. He feels overlooked and underestimated by them, that they don't even see him as an equal being because he isn't perfect.

OFFENDERMAN:

Offenderman has always been the black sheep of the family. He doesn't find any common ground with any of his brothers. His entire life he's been expected to be something he's not, Slenderman had always tried to "fix" him, to put him in this box that he traps everyone else in. The box he's trapped Trender and now Surrender. He hates to see his youngest brother ruin himself over something impossible. However, there's nothing he can really do. Surrender is extremely goal-oriented and ambitious, he wouldn't listen to anybody.

Offender's interactions with Surrender are short and uncommon, but when they do occur he tries to be very chill and lighthearted with his brother, knowing he can use some of that in his life.

SPLENDORMAN:

Splendorman, while not as much of an outsider as Offenderman, is also disapproved of by Slender. Similarly to Surrender, he also feels the burden of expectation put on him, but he doesn't actively try to prove himself.

Splendor has always just wanted the 5 of them to get along, but seeing how Slender's one-track mind has torn the family apart, he's lost hope.

He hates seeing Surrender suffer the way Trender used to suffer on his journey to "Perfection". He wishes for Surrender to snap out of it, but all he can do is offer him all the support he can.

General headcanons

-Surrenderman is the youngest

-He hasn't fully grasped the concept of his abilities, often struggling to use them at all

-His potential abilities would most likely be teleportation, telepathy and using his tentacles offensively

-He is also the shortest, standing at 3,60M/11'9. While Splendorman is the tallest at 5,80M/19'.

-His favourite color is baby blue

-He definitely listens to Lana or Melanie

-He indulges in writing in his free time. He was given the suggestion to write down his feelings by Splendor, ultimately discovering a new hobby and talent he never even suspected. He writes little poems and songs

-Slenderbeings don't need to eat and he doesn't even like eating, but he enjoys cooking meals

-He is very overprotective of the things he cares about and wants to speak his truth, but is too afraid of Slenderman like everyone else is

-He not only loves writing, but he also loves reading. He really likes Greek mythology and can ramble about it for days if you let him

-I mean it, he can talk non-stop if you give him the opportunity to and if he feels safe enough

-He has a little stutter and has a hard time controlling it when he's nervous

-And he's nervous 90% of the time

-That guy cannot handle crowds and strangers

-His stutter becomes less frequent if he's with someone who makes him feel comfortable

-I have a feeling he'd smell like forest fruits

-He has deeply rooted generational trauma passed onto him and the rest of his brothers by Slenderman, he experiences it the hardest by far

-He's very emotional, struggling to understand his own emotions and writing helps him manage them slightly better

-He often feels neglected and useless, believing that he's of no use to anybody, since he isn't even half as strong as his brothers

-His ideas and beliefs get overlooked, building a sense of unimportance in himself and leading him to believe the things he has to say are nothing more than a disturbance

-I think he'd also struggle with his self-image, often having a hard time accepting who he is

-IDENTITY CRISIS CHECK

These are all of the headcanons I have at the top of my head. Let me know if you'd like to know anything else about Surrender or his brothers in my AU and I'd be more than happy to respond! I can also write you a story with these characters!

[hinny-canons]

@corneliaavenue-ao3 ‘s Several Sunlit Daylights

Debut: Stay Beautiful

Making paper chains for Christmas was always a long, but fun task. Ginny always took responsibility for it and she never used magic to make them.

She got all of her materials and set them out on the table and got to work.

Her work was stopped short when Harry entered the room and saw what she was doing. “Hey, Gin,” he said. “What are you making?”

“Paper chains,” she said, looking up at him. “I just started making them.”

“That’s nice. Do you need any help?”

Usually, Ginny would say no, since she liked to do it by herself. But this was Harry. She’d do anything to spend time with Harry.

She scooted over on the floor to make some room for him. “You can make them with me,” she smiled.

Harry grinned. “Great! You’re gonna have to tell me how first, though.”

She told him how to do it quickly and he caught on pretty quick. She came to realize that Harry was a fast learner.

“So, you’ve never made any Christmas decorations before?” Ginny asked, making a conversation.

“No, the Dursleys weren’t too big on making them yourself when they could just buy it.”

“They sound like no fun.”

“They weren’t fun at all. That’s why I like it here better, it’s more lively and happy.” Ginny was so happy to hear that Harry felt comfortable at the Burrow. He deserved to have a safe place. “And I love spending time with you and Ron.”

Hearing him say that he loved to spend time with her, made her heart flutter. Not to mention he was looking at her rather tenderly, his eyes like a jungle she could get herself lost in.

Ginny just smiled at him. “I love spending time with you as well. I think I’ve gotten to know you better recently.”

“Yeah, it’s been nice. However, I will never forget the time you had a crush on me and wrote me poems,” he smirked.

“Oh, please, forget it!” Ginny groaned. “It was the most embarrassing moment of my life, my poem about you read in front of everyone!”

“It was rather cute.”

Ginny looked at him. She couldn’t believe he thought it was cute! Eleven-year-old Ginny would die if she heard that. Fifteen-year-old Ginny however just has butterflies in her stomach.

“I’m glad you think that and never said it to my little self out loud. She would have died.”

Harry laughed. “No, it was a nice gesture. Most girls at school just like me because I’m the Chosen One, or whatever. None of them have said my eyes are as green as fresh pickled toads.”

Ginny stared at him in astonishment. “You still remember it!”

“Of course, I do! I still have the poem in my bag.”

Okay, Ginny didn’t know how much more of this she could take before falling head over heels for Harry Potter!

They continued making the paper chains when Ginny started talking again. “For the record, I don’t think girls only like you because you’re the Chosen One.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the way the girls talk about you in the Common Room. They usually gush about how pretty you are or how sweet you are.”

Ginny saw the slight blush rise on his cheeks. “Really? Well, that’s new.”

Ginny looked at the way he smiled and got back to the paper chains. She knew he was very pretty and that he needed to hear it from someone. His hair is perfect, everyone knows that. His eyes are Ginny’s favourite colour. His smile is like the radio.

Does he know? Will he ever know?

“Well, I think you’re beautiful, Harry,” she blurted out.

Harry’s eyes lit up as he looked at her. “Thank you.” If his cheeks were red before, they were definitely red now. “I, uh…I think you’re beautiful as well. Very beautiful.”

Ginny felt like she was gonna melt in a puddle of happiness with how softly he was looking at her.

She wanted him to stay beautiful like this, looking at her like she was a treasure.

[crisp-nightime-air]

Here are me and my gf favourite dndaddies quotes. (Up until season 2 episode 23)

**spoilers to come

“I’m hungry and I kinda wanna fuck”

“He is my seed!!!”

“I burned down my first school!!”

“Who wants grape nuts?”

“No one!!!”

“Now two sad bags of bones that used to be people with hopes and dreams”

“Natures orgasm”

“Jizz likely”

“I’m wearing the condoms Ron!!!”

“ the Birkenstock’s were in you all along”

“If we all get into the fanny pack then the bear can get into the van”

“Daryl what do your dilf eyes see”

“Is that a d4 in your pocket or are you just that poorly endowed”

“It’s like watching a man chase down his very specific kink through tabletop role play”

“It’s role play masturbation”

“I can’t respect your choices when you don’t make good ones”

“You find more knives than not knives”

“Look at my butt hole dad”

“Yea look at his butthole”

“Balfazar drop me a fat ass poem”

“So your edging your cat??!???”

“Get yourself together the snake is dying”

“Sticks and stones may break my bones but chains and whips excite me”

“Dick daddy”

“My cat has never nutted and will never nut”

“We don’t need seat belts where we’re going”

“The horse doesn’t get the money, Glenn”

“Mountain don’t think, mountain do”

“It’s like a bra for your penis”

“A bunch of sexualised but private part not having felines”

“Do they have BUTTHOLES??”

“I’m hard rock big huge”

“Eldritch candy emergency”

“The entire episode is spent inside Darrell's butt”

“The curious case of the poop in the bathroom”

“John the Baptist flipping through the Old Testament “ain’t no rules says it can’t happen””

“A homunculus made of confidence and urine”

“Trapped in a piss boy”

“Frankly my dear I don’t have a frank”

“You do the hokey pokey and you turn into an eight year old”

“Don’t you ,forget about yeet”

“Human sized bird on a tiny pony”

“I’m fully cocked”

“I hate it when I go to the grocery store looking for Tapatío and they’re like “We only have Old Assblower” and I’m like “Okay, fine.”

“A brief encounter with a problematic vampire”

“Father! The after life…it is dark”

“Because Glenn could not stop for Death, we kindly killed Glenn”

“I’m burnt out from caring”

“Tell me it’s comic sans and I will cum”

“Never send a Matt to do a Glenn’s work”

“Why don’t you come down here and punish me daddy”

“I’m not that easily penetrated”

“That’s the last time you gonna see anybody come”

“I don’t have to be nice I’m aerodynamic”

“A Real man belongs in a mouth”

“It’s like my dick, my ass, and my balls have all seen a ghost”

“Does your butt look like house md now”

“Down with the immigrant”

“Matt nipple play Arnold”

“I’m Beth miracle nip May”

“You can finger something without touching the sharp end”

“Goblin? On deez nuts??!!????!?”

“Women are friends not cubes”

“You can’t really do a battle cry on resolving conflict”

“Tomorrow might be m for mature but today is for e for everyone”

“You couldn’t do 30 seconds of childhood”

“FOMO fire opportunity murder other thing”

“I turn to my directionless hippie family”

“Disenfranchised acolytes of oakvale”

“My daddy is god! My daddy is god!”

“I am willing to psychically dominate your father”

“If it’s a private school…..how do you know about it?”

“Say something racist William campos”

“Have you ever watched a porn?????? No one wants to see the guys face!!!!!”

“I got a detention in my pants”

“You see in order…..the same man twice and a boy that’s wrong”

“My husband is an heiress”

“The Apple doesn’t fall far from the weeb”

“Goth the friend zone iguana”

“We clocked the teen boy at 30 miles an hour”

“Coming out of my mom and I was feeling just fine”

“Scorpion slut”

“I have never pleasures a woman in my life and I don’t plan on starting now”

“Dick Spencer’s the name dick pleasures the game”

“It’s time for centrist vegan ice cream”

“I don’t think the fbi can help with this growth”

“My one dad left because he saw how gross the growth is”

“That means they’ve listened to me jerkoff 67 times”

“A routeeny”

“I’m not the smartest kid in the shed”

“This hole was made for me”

“I’m gonna wrap my vajay around your neck”

“You hit him directly with your vagina”

“Let the yeast do its thing”

“I love to please when I get head to…damn”

“The raccoons name is laaannhehahheh”

“Can you order calzone people?

Oh yea like a stripper”

“Jsut order party calzones!!”

“Does he want sentient or none sentient calzones?

He said he doesn’t want feet on them”

“You see the price on the recipe after we charge you”

“The sensual ghost Italian music playing in the back”

“A woman shat in the bathroom”

“You wanna slide inside a calzone with dad”

“To old to share a calzone with your papa”

“It’s not gonna be pleasant in that calzone”

“I have returned to the woomussy”

“Deep inside your pizzussy”

“Hi my name is Matt Arnold known misogynist”

Hi I’m will campos known woman lover”

“Hi I’m Beth may known woman”

“My first kiss was a threesome”

“You hear the sphincter of the cat open”

“Guys act like calzones!!”

“There’s a nipple on the bus hot shot”

“My neck, my back, MY PUSSY BUS!!”

“New you would pussy out you would pussy in”

“Don’t get cocky kid this is the only pussy you’re ever getting in”

“The dick kids don’t fall far from the dick tree”

“It’s been two days since you last jerked”

“She Johnny on my Apple tell I seed”

“What ever revs your engine as long as I get to drive the car”

“Come here baby and hold your body against mine and rub it around a little bit”

“”We‘ll talk about in a second” is the Wilson fucking family crest”

[revenantghost]

[20 Question Fic Writer Game]

Tagged by @faindri and @pancake-breakfast!

How many works do you have on AO3?

18! Most are poetry collections, so a lot of smaller stories in one anthology.

What is your AO3 word count?

75,144

What fandoms do you write for?

Trigun is my main squeeze atm (and biggest in general, I have four projects for it which is double anything else--and the highest wordcount, too), but I've written for KinnPorsche, Sabikui Bisco, Danny Phantom, Vampire In The Garden, Sasaki to Miyano, Cyberpunk: Edgerunners, Goncharov (yeah... yeah), The Night Beyond the Tricornered Window, Signalis, Omori, Lycoris Recoil, and The Executioner and Her Way of Life

What are your top five fics by kudos?

No idea and I ain't looking! Trad publishing has me extremely scarred from some nasty comparison wars, so I have kudo and view counts blocked on ALL fics, including mine. From my kudos emails, though, Hallowboned has to be my top fic for sure. Last time I was paying attention most of my other fics didn't pass into triple digits by a long shot

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do!!! I adore comments, and I love chatting with folks, it really keeps me motivated and chugging along. I am... very behind on replying to the comments on my last chapter rn because I feel so awful and guilty about having to quit writing

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Uh... I don't write a ton of narrative fics, and I do love me some tragic poetry, but I guess the angstiest collection might be my Signalis one, Observable System Transcendence? But my Omori poem and the Trined Soul collection might be contenders, too

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I mean, Trembling Hands is a Trimax fix-it fic, so? Though the Sasaki and Miyano collection, Effortless Dreams, is definitely the most tooth-rotting fluff I've ever slapped onto the page

Do you get hate on fics?

Oh yeah, I've had my poetry called pretentious and also not good enough to be poetry lol. It's been a hot minute since that's happened, people are just jerks sometimes

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I used to! Porn with plot, my beloved. It would be interesting to explore in poetry format, but we'll see if I have the time who wants to commission some poetry porn from me lmao

Do you write crossovers?

Nah, not my cuppa

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yeah, many moons ago

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but that is one of the coolest things fandom does. Loving a thing so much you spend the time to painstakingly transform that art into something you can read and share in another language, bro??? Translators are amazing

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I've worked pretty closely with artists a loooong time ago, but I've only written fics where I'm the sole writer. I have used other writers' ideas and outlines (with their permission, of course), but that's the closest

What's your all-time favourite ship?

I DON'T KNOW?!?! Shipping has never really been my main focus of media typically, but when one digs its teeth into me I go rabid in a completely feral but different way each time.

What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever will?

))): All of them

Life feels kinda... really dire atm, it's hard to see ever writing again. However! God I want to finish Hallowboned SO BADLY!!! I have so many chapters written for it that I haven't even posted!!!!! Y'all haven't met Livio yet!!!!!! GAH 3:

What are your writing strengths?

Uh... ??? I'll be real, I've got no idea. I feel like I write so weirdly atm, it's hard for me to analyze in that kinda way

What are your writing weaknesses?

I tend to get really excited/into things and flit around and forget to explain or describe things sometimes. Thank god for having been well-trained to edit my own work. Not that I catch it all, but I try!!!

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I think it'd really cool, but I'd need a native speaker on hand to make sure I don't fuck it up in my own fic

First fandom you wrote for?

I think my first piece of written fanwork was a Danny Phantom Quizilla thing lmao, I'm old. I don't remember what it was about, just that it was ANGSTY

Favourite fic you've ever written?

Ah?!?! Honestly, each project is so different and written from such a different place, I've got no idea. I'm proudest of Observable System Transcendence being my longest, most consistent project (outside of my Smaugust collection, which isn't a fan project), Hallowboned being the first thing that really inspired me in ages--and the most indulgent one lol. But each collection and fic and poem comes from such a different place, and it's hard to pull them apart and pick???

Tagging:

Whoever wants to hop in! :3

[queer-cosette]

AO3 tag game

Thank you for the tag @apopcornkernel my love kissing u /p

how many works do you have on ao3?

45 right now!

what's your total ao3 word count?

According to my stats page, 781,604! Holy smokes, Batman!

what fandoms do you write for?

Right now, mainly Heathers, but I've also written for Les Misérables, Derry Girls, Monster High, Miraculous Ladybug, Total Drama, Equestria Girls, and Rainbow High, and have posted some original work on AO3 too (mostly poetry).

what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

mArinette (a Miraculous Ladybug easy A AU)

today I woke up wanting to kiss you (plotless Duncney fluff)

Cute Boys With Short Haircuts (Miraculous Ladybug angsty one-sided identity reveal)

Mistlejoke (Miraculous Ladybug christmas fluff)

Waitin' on the Sunrise (shameless fluffy JDonica porn with plot)

do you respond to comments?

I try to lol. Usually I'll respond in batches because executive dysfunction is The Worst

what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ooh, does original poetry count? Because if so, Kathryn, a midlength poem I wrote about Kathryn Howard the fifth wife of Henry VIII who was beheaded between the ages of 17 and 22. Or maybe these are times that can’t be weathered (and we have never been back there since then), a story about a Miraculous OC discovering Hawkmoth’s identity.

what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Personally, I think it’s The Dark Gate, part four of my Les Mis Winx Club AU. The happy ending is really earned and needed.

do you get hate on fics?

Not really since I stopped regularly writing for Miraculous Ladybug. Boy, that was a wild experience. The fandom was really big at the time and it was the post-Season 3 salt era, so Opinions were both abundant and poor in quality.

do you write smut? if so, what kind?

Yes indeed! I was born on the run (but I’ll die holding your hand) and Waitin’ on the Sunrise are both JDonica smut fics that I am very very proud of! They’re… very fluffy. You know that rule about how you see in fandom the stuff that was missing from the source material? Look, I just want my awful blorbos to be happy. And also to bang a lot.

do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've written?

Does On Se Sent Comme Par Magie count? It’s really more fusion fic, it’s the characters of Les Mis living out the plot of Winx Club. Look, it just… it made sense in my head, y’know?

have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know, and I hope it never happens!

have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I did write an English translation of a fic I wrote in my native Scots! Never posted it, though.

have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have tried and miserably failed. I just can’t do it, babes.

what's your all time favourite ship?

Probably JDonica. I just… he’d kill for her?? And he does?? Does it get more chewable than that??

what's a WIP you want to finish but sometimes doubt you ever will?

Oh god I haven’t actually written anything for two months. I need to get back to Waitin’ on the Sunrise, The Last Faery on Earth (Part 5 of OSSCPM), and The Mystery Solvers of Derry (Derry Girls SDMI AU).

what are your writing strengths?

According to my beta reader for OSSCPM, readability, characterisation, and cliffhangers.

what are your writing weaknesses?

I’m really bad for run-on sentences - it’s not my fault, okay, I started reading Les Mis when I was sixteen and impressionable, and Victor Hugo did a number on my psyche that I doubt will ever be reversed because unfortunately Vicky Huge-ho lives rent-free in my skull and whispers in my ear to just use more semicolons like the whore he is.

thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I’ve written in Scots before, which was fun! I kind of want to do it again, but the Plot Bunnies aren’t cooperating right now.

first fandom you wrote for?

I think. Technically. It was a documentary about Sperm Whales that had a really sad ending that I saw when I was six and I wrote a little book that gave it a happier ending, if that counts? If not, probably Equestria Girls. Although, thank god, my early fic experiments are all stored on a hard drive that will never see the light of day again.

favorite fic you've written?

I was born on the run (but I’ll die holding your hand)!! Fluffy JDonica smut for the win!!

tagging: @theladyfae @private-bryan @galahadwilder @swxxtcidxr if yous want to xo

[the-al-chemist]

The Hexley Saga - Author’s Notes

And just like that, it’s over. 2 years, 7 novels, 117 chapters and over 500,000 words later, the Hexley Saga has come to its conclusion. I’ve probably written enough, but before I officially call it quits on the series, there are some things I want to say, and some people I want to thank.

It’s hard to know what to write here, because I was not expecting to have to write this. The very name “The Saga” was a facetious nod to how out of control my little practice exercise had become by the time I came around to publishing the first instalment. I had thought that I would write it until I felt confident in my own style and then move on. I did not start out thinking that I would adapt the entire game, and the fact that I have done so (and have been the first to do so) is thanks to several people.

Firstly and foremostly, I need to thank two people outside the fandom bubble. So, I’d like to thank my Year 3 teacher Mr Randall, who taught me joined up handwriting, let me read Harry Potter books in his lessons, and once made me promise to remember him when I published my first ever novel. Thanks and love also go to my friend Naomi, the first person outside of the HPHM community to have read and supported the Hexley Saga, who gave me her frank opinions on the story as someone who had no idea of the plot and characters other than reading my writing, and even went so far as to take it with her to read on her honeymoon.

They say it takes a village to raise a child. I don’t have children (this series has been my baby) but I can vouch that writing a half-a-million word novel adaptation of a mobile game does take more than a little outside help. So, I need to thank Erin @thatravenpuffwitch, JD @that-scouse-wizard, and Flare @flareshogwarts for allowing me to borrow their characters for cameos (and Erin for her Wattpad cover designs); my favourite poet E.M.G. Somerwill for assisting me with writing a full poem in rhyming French; Kate @kc-and-co for helping me see past the statistics to get into the head of Murphy McNully; and Val @whatwouldvalerydo for reassuring me whilst I was writing some of the harder parts of Circle of Khanna.

No one has helped me more in writing this series, however, than my dearest Anni @lifeofkaze. As well as lending me her darling LizzieJameson and assisting in translating Orion Amari’s dialogue, Anni has been my sounding post for ideas, the person I go to when I need to puzzle something out, and the one who has held my hand through and checked over the scenes I was most unsure of and intimidated by. She has also been my biggest cheerleader, my emotional support, trusted confidante (she has known all the plot twists for months!), and - most importantly - my friend. I honestly don’t know what I would do without her, and I am so glad to have her in my life.

Finally, I’d like to thank everyone who has joined me and Artemis on this journey together. So many people have been reading and supporting this story that I can’t list all of them, but if you’re still here reading this now, then this dedication goes to you. I still don’t know exactly what I expected when I first decided to publish Artemis Hexley and the Mystery at Hogwarts back in the first few months of 2021. I obviously hoped that people would read and enjoy it, but I have been blown away by how many people have developed a love for and been genuinely touched by Artemis and her story. Thank you. Really, thank you. I honestly don’t know if I would have gotten to this point if it weren’t for each and every single one of you.

But, reached this point I have, and that point is this: the end of the Hexley Saga. However, as Dumbledore said in the final chapter: “A circle has many endings. In fact, it has a multitude of endings, an infinite number of them, but each of those endings is also a beginning.”

I wanted to gain confidence in order to start writing my own original fiction, and I fully intend on doing so, but Artemis has been my constant companion for the last two years, and she isn’t ready to let go of me just yet. Both she and I have stories to be told, and though I cannot promise when we will be ready to tell them, I can tell you that we will. One day.

So really, this isn’t the end, and nor is it goodbye. It’s just

For Now, With Love,

Al and Artemis

Artworks in the edits above by: @thatravenpuffwitch @slytherindisaster @ag907 @flareshogwarts @usernoneexistent @cursebreakerfarrier @cursedcrusaders @kc-and-co @pathofstars @gaygryffindorgal @deafeningwizardsquare @alstroemerian-witch

[therealnuclearplatypus]

random solangelo hcs cuz i don't do much of those (have i even ever?)—

will :)

ayo okay so let's just start off by saying will ain't ur soft boi stereotype okay

my bitch is texas born n raised y'all, he gets pissed sUPER easily (he better get to go fuckin apeshit in the upcoming solangelo novel or im throwing hands). nico is made out to be the scarier one, but its only because the times his rage truly erupts in a way that terrifies are few and far between so they seem a lot scarier than they would be if he did it on the daily like will does.

ffs this boy snaps at people if they take too long to cut him a bandage like "sweet HOLY lawd I'll just do it myself next time" but doesn't actually

but he gets over his little hissy fits quite easily so that's fine

he got his tattoo from a sibling who's not a year-rounder and is training to be a tattoo artist. even though he was like, what, fifteen when he got it, his big sib didn't really care because will knows what he's doing

except not really, people forget he's human too, not just 'the medic' or 'the sunshine guy'

anw he showed it to nico all excited and nico almost drooled

will likes roller-skating, fight me👊

he also tries vaping one time and stops because he liked it so much he knew he'd get addicted

same as when he smoked weed once. also nico had gotten really worried when he'd heard and will didn't wanna make him worry

but then when they grew older they both ended up smoking pot from time to time anyways

nico :)

nico likes to read shakespeare. his favourite play is twelfth night because that is also my favourite shakespearean play i don't make the rules except i do

he also has a soft spot for romantic poetry. it pisses him off to no end when people say "oh, you like love poems? i didn't think you would like those kinds of things" because first off, why the hell wouldn't he? (he's secretly a hopeless romantic, much to will's delight). and secondly, he means poems of the romantic MOVEMENT. the romantic POETS. yeats, shelley, those guys. his personal favourite is keats, and his favourite poem is la belle dame sans merci. (this one is basically all me but im projecting onto nico okay don't judge me)

he occasionally writes poetry himself but never shows them to anyone, not even will. they're his own thing. will knows he writes them, but he knows not to ask to read them (as much as he'd like to) because they're nico's private space. (sorry, projecting again 😞)

one time nico was hanging out with drew in the aphrodite cabin (nico×drew friendship >>>) and she was painting her nails all glittery n pink, when she jokingly grabbed the black nail polish and painted nico's pinky. he didn't even flinch and she ended up painting all ten fingernails and that's how nico got into painting his nails

p i e r c i n g s !!

like, i. canNOT. stress this enough. he has like a bajillion on his ears, two on his lip, a septum nose ring, and he even dared to get one on his left eyebrow. will loves em

he lets his hair grow out a bit. not, like, reeeaaally long. just, wolfcut style, ig? and he ties it up in a smol bun or ponytail and will is LIVING for it

he also wears skirts from time to time, just for will. he also gets a moon tattoo on his left pectoral to match will's sun tattoo on his right pec

he steals will's shirts because what else are boyfriends for

he likes to draw but isn't very good at drawing people. landscapes, though? mary mother of christ hes talented at those. whenever he draws one from tartarus whoever sees them has to physically repress a shudder at their vivid detail

he has a gap between his two front teeth that was a lot wider when he was little but is still kinda noticeable now

solangelo :)

they're both little spoon and big spoon. they both need to protect and be protected.

they communicate in italian (nico is italian, italian is the language of music, yadda yadda yadda)

nico plays the piano and will can sorta twang the harp? so sometimes they just sit together and play and it brings them peace

they're both MASSIVE mcr fans shut up you know its true

so's thalia and percy too a bit so one time all four of em go see a concert and will admits that gerard way was his bi awakening and nico's like "i know that"

they watched glee and lowkey loved it but they like laughing at mr schue

they have matching heartstopper pfps on insta <33

nico has charlie and will has nick duhh

they also have matching bios! they change it often but it always matches :]]

they also match jewellery (im just manifesting couple goals for myself atp)

they watched young royals and now have a picture of august's head on a dartboard just so they can throw darts at him (nico occasionally throws knives)

when nico meets naomi he's initially really scared, but naomi ends up loving him to bits and tells will he's lucky they're dating or else she would've adopted him

they end up getting married at like 18-ish and go live in washington dc, because nico wanted to go back there, and will becomes a paediatrician and nico a professor of literature. they live with the most dramatic-ass fucking cat and a little daughter named bianca maria di angelo-solace :>

yeahh okay bye <3

[homemade-clones]

For my beloved Cheese: 🍂, 🌻, 🍀, and 🌷

@the-bad-batch-baroness

OC flower asks

Hiii Steph! Of course, some special lore about the sweetheart coming right away!

🍂 Does your OC view piles of dead leaves as a mess or as fun?

It really depends! On what, you may ask? Well, if he's the one raking them or if it's just a pile he came across. If he's the one on rake duty, he naturally sees it as a chore and the stacked leaves as the result of his hard work (made ever harder by the efforts of Aid of repeatedly jumping and running through it). It's tiring work, and in the end he just wants to get back inside, take a shower and enjoy a hard-earned tea and nap. But if he just came across it (or someone else left the pile of colorful, crunchy fun unattended)? It's leaf diving time! He loves everything about the seasonal experience: the whimsy, the colors, the earthy scents, the satisfying crunch of rolling around, the delight of a pile so big he disappears inside! He feels like a cadet again, really. And if his vode, Aid or his mesh'la (or all of them together!) are with him to join the fun? Oh yeah, paradise right there.

🌻 Where would your OC get lost in the moment/beauty of the place?

Deserts! The squad is sent to the most different biomes during missions, but desert planets always manage to take his breath away (and not because of all the dust, hah). It never ceases to amaze him how life can, somehow, thrive in a place so opposite to the one he grew up in. He's fascinated with all the different ways plants and animals find a way to adapt, and then all the people with their civilizations and cultures! Sometimes he wishes he was more artistically inclined, like Gaze or maybe even Charm, so that he could capture the way deserts make him feel and put it down in images; just writing about it in his little stories and poems doesn't feel like it's enough, sometimes.

🍀 Would your OC spend hours looking for a four leaf clover?

Just for the sake of it, on his own? Not really, he'd rather take a nap or just relax in bed if he has that much free time. Force knows he needs all the rest he can get. But if he's already out – say, camping or (for some reason) hiking with his vode or partner – and they suggest the activity? Sure, why not? But then it's more about enjoying the company of his loved ones than looking for the clover.

🌷 What is your OC's favourite flower and colour?

Cheese's favorite flower is the blackfoot daisy! He finds them lovely, and stumbling upon them when outside is a sure way to lift his spirits, even if just a bit. He wishes they could be easily grown indoors, so that he could keep them always in sight, but so is life, and he makes do with the holos he takes when out and about. And for his fave color? He likes green the best, the light, almost-neon variety!

[questwithambition]

Life update (15/01/23) with a few thoughts:

After we arrived back in the UK I headed back to uni for a week to have an intense study week with a couple of friends, finishing up a piece of coursework. Was a lot of work but also a lot of fun, as we spent a lot of evenings chatting together.

Back home and straight away had my (upper) wisdom teeth removed - thankfully only a local anaesthetic was needed and the whole thing was straightforward but it does mean I’ve spent the past few days on the painkillers and a bit out of it.

I now have a week until next term starts again (which will be my final term of education ever!). So I’m planning to spend time in the mornings prepping for our final big project, going over notes in one module that we’re examined on in March, and doing the never ending job applications (which involves chasing up an interview invite with a changed date). Also I wrote something that my lecturers want to publish in a uni journal so I must clean that up!

A few ideas have been bouncing in my mind. I want to create my “journal review” of 2022. I do one every year where I highlight achievements, awards, places I’ve been and activities I did. Always nice to reflect on how much has actually happened in the past 12 months. I also want to create a sort of physical booklet containing my favourite poems, but I’m not sure how (I have a commonplace book, but I want this to be more like printed out poems and then personal underlining and notes etc). A binder? Maybe actually creating my own booklet and using that? I want to make sure I can easily add on to it.

I also want to revamp my clothing style a bit. I do love the look I currently have, but I do want to jazz it up a bit. I have maybe a few too many turtlenecks. Add a bit of fun in there - a few different styles of tops, jewellery (especially rings!). Also a bit of a revamp with my hair, it’s currently very long (waist length) and whilst I do love the length and don’t see myself cutting it much, maybe a bit of change is needed. I also must make time to put it up in the mornings and find more fun hairstyles, it’s something I enjoy and am pretty decent at but have just been not doing. Maybe it does need a bit of a trim though. (I’ve been spending a lot of time on Pinterest recently)

Final thought of the evening, re sport. Really missing my dance lessons, and finding it a struggle to get the energy to move without routine. I did go on a long walk with my mum through the hills and thoroughly enjoyed it, so might lean into that for the one week I have left until I can enjoy my dance classes again. Must stretch before then though because otherwise the first week back will be tough 😅

Anyway a happy new year to all of you out there, I’m wishing you all these very best 💫

[moinsbienquekaworu]

i am about to sleep but i wanted to ask what your favorite poem is? will you tell me about it? what you love and why it’s your favorite? do you like any of its translations? i love you. i hope you have a good day 🥰

(⁠〒⁠﹏⁠〒⁠) beloved thank you for the question!!! As per usual I am incapable of choosing just one of a thing, so I actually have two favourite poems, one in french and one in english (because poetry in french and in english can be pretty different since the codes and models and expectations aren't always the same!) They're the two poems I can recite and know by heart haha.

The english one is Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, by Robert Frost. I really like the last stanza (like everyone else) but also just the way when you say it out loud it does feel like a quiet moment watching the snow fall all on your own. I found it recently accompanying a fic (two different fics actually but the second time I knew it) and it entranced me!

The french one is Chanson d'Automne by Paul Verlaine. It's a classic in France, some of its lines were used as a signal for saboteurs during WWII and there's an urban legend it was used to signal the landing in Normandy. I personally had to learn it by heart in primary school (I think in 4th grade?) and it just stuck with me. I like it for the way it feels to me and the images it evokes, but also just because it was the first poem I learnt by heart and being able to recite a poem is an easily overlooked comfort of life (insert those posts and quotes about art being vital and what we need to be able to turn to in dark or light times)

Other poems I like include Remords Posthume and L'Albatros by Baudelaire, Le Dormeur du Val by Rimbaud, Le Déserteur and Je Voudrais Pas Crever by Boris Vian, Funeral Blues by W. H. Auden, and Mad Girl's Love Song by Sylvia Plath. The french ones I studied in school, and I found the english ones on my own (I feel like I found both in Johnlock fics?? but I might be wrong about Funeral Blues, it's been years) I included english translations where I could for the french ones, and they're not necessarily incredible but they should let you get the vibe. If one of them speaks to you I can try to explain what makes it tick! My personal anecdotes with those because that's half the fun: we had to analyse Remords Posthume for literature class with my best friend K, and what's really cool about it is the last line, "et le ver rongera ta peau comme un remords", because it plays on the homonymy between ver, the worm, and vers, the line of poetry, meaning she will be devoured physically by worms since she'll be dead but also that his verses, his poem, will make her feel remorse; I like the albatross analogy because I was a weird kid who felt comfortable with books but not with my peers; Le Dormeur du Val is extremely extremely sad and beautiful and I think Rimbaud was a very interesting guy; technically Le Déserteur is a song and not a poem but I first saw the text without knowing that so for me it's a poem forever now, and I love talking about the original versus final ending thing; the YouTube channel Le Mock did an excellent reading of Je Voudrais Pas Crever and it's a jewel, I love it so so much; Funeral Blues was the first english poem I ever liked (or maybe read honestly) and I wrote it on the cover of my 10th grade english notebook (because the teacher was great and said that if we forgot to do our homework he wouldn't punish us if we could recite a poem for him, so I wrote it down and tried to learn if by heart in case I forgot my homework); and Mad Girl's Love Song features in a fic I read a few weeks ago and I just think it's neat. I probably forgot some but those are the ones I remember right now (edit: ADA LIMÓN!! I FORGOT ADA LIMÓN!!! Accident Report in the Tall, Tall Weeds (the I can't help it, I love the way men love poem) hit me in the chest the first time I read it and it's so so good)

My favourites (and most of the poems I like actually) are pretty popular because I'm not really into poetry that much on my own. I get attached to poems once I see how they work inside and analyse them, but I don't sit down and decide to analyse some poem from Les Fleurs du Mal at random because it feels like homework, and I don't go looking for poetry because I'm very hit or miss (I get bored at long winded descriptions in those 4-part 7-pages poems and a lot of things trip up my instinctual Pretentiousness Radar™, and while it's not necessarily accurate it does turn me off poems). So I just stay with the basics, but that's fine, because the comfort of carrying poems with you is there whatever the poem is y'know?

Also question, do americans learn poetry in school? I assume you must analyse some in literature class, but I don't know if you learn poems when you're young. I know we also do lots of La Fontaine's Fables, though I personally never did, but learning poems to recite in primary school is a thing almost everyone has done here I think.

[darckcarnival]

Get To Know The Mun!

> BASICS! ♡

NAME: Spoop, Splat, D, Darck (peeps usually call my my main muses names except Spoop, I am the spoopiest.)

PRONOUNS: Any! I merely exist.

ZODIAC SIGN: Sagittarius/Capricorn

TAKEN OR SINGLE: Single but married to food.

> THREE FACTS! ♡

Have been writing since the 90's when I was a wee child. Did silly little roleplaying on mIRC, on some forums, and deviant art back in the day there after. Then became a fanfic writer for a while, followed by poems which I was quite good at back in the day. Then began making lyrics- figured nah, not for me. And flipped full circle back into roleplaying once more with some drabbles and maybe a one shot fic here and there. Have been writing ever since! So I have a LOT of history under my belt. And many of my muses have the same type of dedication and time behind them. Gotta put as much love into your character and writing, as if they were your own family. Make them feel alive.

Most art I do is either writing, 3D model modification items, or just with a mouse and keyboard art. I have been practicing more with a gifted tablet and pen, which has allowed me to do more detailed and serious mod work, such as mods for RE4 classic! But I am much better at texture, 3D, or coloring and shading. But heres the fun fact: i learned all my 3D and texture work skills through Second Life before anything else. And it's actually, funny enough, helped me bring muses to life as well as follow up on how to mod other games and go hog wild.

Been struck by lightning twice, fell down two different cliffs, hit by a semi truck, shot with a carbon arrow in the chest, stabbed, shot by bullet, and so on- and yet here I stand. Most of these events were completely accidental as well, and I walked away from. Honestly? I'm just a walking glitch in the matrix of the world, considering I also glitch every single god damn game I touch. THIS IS NOT A JOKE, NO MATTER HOW NEW IT IS, I BREAK IT.

> EXPERIENCE! ♡

PLATFORMS USED: AIM, Yahoo Messenger, DA chat, so many FORUM's back in the day. Skype, Discord, Tumblr.

PLOTTING / WINGING IT / MEMES: Geez, I can roll with just about anything. Plotting? Hell yeah count me in! Plots may not always follow the idea one hundred percent, but it absolutely makes for longer events and threads easily. Winging it? I do that all the damn time and can create so many unexpected events, as well as sudden character development. Twists and turns that just wing a rough idea into something wild. As for Memes and asks? Oh those can still form some really good interactions, character developments or knowledge acquiring moments. Sometimes these are one offs or long drabbles- but they can form into something longer and more serious. However, while I am down for all of the above-- I also have bad ADHD and writing can be hard, so it could take a while.

> MUSE PREFERENCE! ♡

GENDER: I can write just about any gender character, manage things in between or none. However I am more comfortable with female centric style muses. And yet, you put large men in my hands, and watch them go hog fucking wild. And don't even get be started on Robots or Monsters.

MULTI OR SINGLE: I have done both, but usually prefer single muse blogs. And yet I absolutely love my megaman multimuse to death! All my robot children and heathens there, so much work in my own verse there. So many thoughts. But multimuse blogs can still be difficult to keep organized with so much going on in the braincell, and with life being as it is, need to take breaks from it.

LEAST FAVOURITE FACECLAIM(S): Not sure what this means for least favorite here, does it mean people, or genre? I really don't mind one way or another. Especially when it comes to OC's, it's hard to find anyone who fits just right for people. And honestly I do not mind one way or another for people. If it fits someones muse, that's fine by me.

> FLUFF / ANGST / SMUT! ♡

FLUFF: THE GOOD SHIT HELL YEAH. I'm down for fluff so long as it isn't like... Hollow and forced. Fluff can be used as a great comfort option,. be it platonic, familial, friendly, or even romantic. Fluff can be used in so very many ways, and it's always an option withy me. But this can also turn into angst easily with my cursed hands, you have been warned. As well as comedic timing, since Darck needs to make a laugh to make herself comfortable. Darck has... problems.

ANGST: My bread and butter this one, much to the dismay of many of my friends who write with me. The muse on this blog is made of angst and pain and terrible events that have formed her into who she is. Angst can become violence, woe, heavy conversation, as well as venting- it's such a key part of development. There is a saying I quite enjoy: Muses are like geodes. Shiny, pretty, and in order to see what they are really made of, you must break them. I do admit however that I have a limit of how far I can go to a degree, with real life being a thing, but honestly? It takes a whole fucking lot to get there. And also maybe write angst too much and tragedy. Give this muse some better days.

SMUT: As much as I have enjoyed smut in the past, I haven't written such in a very long time, and am very careful of whom I write such with. Turns out I really good at smut according to others. And hey fun fact: People used to straight up pay me to write them smut of their characters and others of their choice. Haven't had that going in years but, it was a thing. However these days, writing smut with my muses needs to be more than just the event. It can be an opening for vulnerability, letting someone get close enough and trust them enough, that no one else really gets. Quiet and heavy conversations, the emotions involved. But if I ever do write it again, both my self and my partner need to be comfortable with writing such a thing. However if I ever did smut in a private drabble or fanfic, then all bets are off, because that's different. But far more rare.

Tagged by: @valour-bound

Tagging: You see this? IM TAGGING YOU. Do it.