train station bathroom stall
covered in graffiti,
love on love and story after
story after tale; poetry, too.
hellos and goodbyes,
afternoon scrawls and
phone numbers and emails;
who will find love
before it’s too late?
I spent my life folded between the pages of books.
In the absence of human relationships I formed bonds with paper characters. I lived love and loss through stories threaded in history; I experienced adolescence by association. My world is one interwoven web of words, stringing limb to limb, bone to sinew, thoughts and images all together. I am a being comprised of letters, a character created by sentences, a figment of imagination formed through fiction.
I can’t stop thinking about Ravus and his depressing death and it’s been ages since I last played that one chapter! It’s completely tearing me apart and I try to think about happier times with the Chocobros before shit went down but… NGH. Lord, give me the strength to deal with this tragic puppy. o(╥﹏╥)o
Summary: Draco works as a librarian. Harry visits often and attempts (possibly) to flirt with Draco through his choice of books. Draco is not getting it. At all.
Loves: A very short fanfic that is awesome for a quick fix of your daily dose of Drarry. Here we have an Oblivious!Draco and Harry flirting with him for a change - it’s lovely to see Draco getting court. Cute little setting in the library where Harry asks Draco to check him out and Draco obviously only thought he meant checking out the books Harry borrowed.
I’ve grown to despise Harley Quinn now. I’ve said it before, this fandom isn’t what it use to be and it isn’t fun for me anymore. Most of the time I dread putting on the costume and painting myself up. I think of selling off my costumes and props more than dressing up now. Yesterday proved that there isn’t a place in this fandom for me. I received a death threat over the meme I made and facts I pointed out yesterday on Facebook. I was berated, made fun of, and had someone threaten to kill me over fictional characters. I just can’t with this anymore. This community has turned into a giant popularity contest. I get messages asking for shout outs to making other Harleys costumes for free. I hate what the writers and Hollywood have done to Harley. She’s not recognizable anymore. I’ve grown to hate her and everything to do with her and I honestly just want to be done. It’s not fun anymore.
/// this poem was greatly inspired by a conversation i had with @bogmoths . they told me of a dream that was at once utterly hilarious and somehow strangely terrifying . this is also dedicated to them ///