fictional me

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.
—  Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me

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

on an island to myself, won’t go far at all
under the clouds that cover up the sun
our closest star has footprints all over it
can’t see mars in the telescope anymore
what did we do?

what did we do?

stars erupt anew, apoptosis in my heart
triggered on by your remarks,
the back of your neck as you turned around
and left me in a puddle of my own regret
what did i do?

what did i do?

—  sometimes all we can do is wonder and that can hurt so much // uncertainties sting like wasps
Check Me Out
By Organization for Transformative Works

Pairing: Drarry

Warnings: Fluff & Nothing Else Really. 

One Shot, ~3K Words

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.

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.

Dedicated To: sarcasticladybug

alligator camp: the return of the pink lamborghini

wheels scathe the sun, bright

fingerprints on all the wrong pistons

black boots to scour the wetlands

looking for alligator souls

this is the one night we get rest

i stay up till 2 writing poems

about it all, about everything they say

distant lights from across the swamp

beguile us into hope, into dream

we see the pink lamborghini

our ticket to freedom

one which we can never fully grasp

/// i’m milkin your dream for poetry, i’m so sorry aahaa @bogmoths ///

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 is Mod Tristen/Neptune: I’m posting this to a hoarded url and reblogging for the read more to work on mobile when you visit the blog directly

It’s not anything too terrible, I’m just asking something related to my mental health and I recognize not everyone would be interested in reading it

Keep reading

alligator camp redux

noshing on fears and confusion like they were some sort of

everyday treats bought at a local candy shop full of images

thrown into swamp waters without hope

alligators at bay, watching us with greedy eyes

there was a storm in our hearts, we didn’t understand a thing

fizz, fizz, fizz, fizz! went the rain as it hit the brown water

we were thigh-deep in it all, wading through muck and mud

spindrift ‘cause of wind, jetsam and flotsam ‘cause

some ships were lost, got stuck here, in this alligator world

no trickling creek, no silent hush of sun, no moon

just terror in our eyes as we run another crest of doom

/// inspired by a dream that @bogmoths had and by some art that they did ,, also some los campesinos! in here, sort of .. dedicated to @bogmoths ///

alligator camp

strange long bus rides, nowhere days

there was a hint of malice in the air

nothing made any sense, everything was

stale confusion and exasperation

purple lamborghinis filled our scopes

duct tape and rope, duct tape and rope

“alligator camp ****ing me up”

/// 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 ///