ink defense

In my defense, he was beautiful.
In my defense, he made butterflies when I thought I wasn’t a flower made to bloom.
In my defense, he was warm and languid when all I remember were cold and stiff mornings.
In my defense,
In my defense he loved me.
—  Not enough, not right, never freely but in my defense, he did. // Genefe Navilon
I wake up and my arms are wings,
my heart a feathered, hopeful thing.
The sky above is the shade of sacrifice;
a mirror-sea I’ve drowned in twice.

I close my eyes and I take flight
up into the soundless, hopeless night.
You can kill the girl,
but the bird still flies.
—  BLACK FEATHERS | M.J. PEARL | commissions open

Ambition is about going after what you want. What in that is evil? Selfishness is about understanding that you yourself have value. What in that is evil? Cunning is about creativity, quick-thinking, rolling with the punches and paying attention– what in that is evil?

Do you know the sort of evil you can do in the name of fairness? Do you know the sort of damage you can do with bravery, with not knowing how to back down, not knowing how sometimes there is a need to give, to adapt? Do you know how you can cut with cleverness, what sort of scornful superiority can live in those high towers?

These are stories about choice. You choose your House. You choose how to live your House. Be brave, be cunning, be fair, be curious– all of those have their dark wizards. I refuse to believe otherwise.

—  ink-splotch

What makes this squid such a special sight? Vampire squid lack ink sacks. Rather than ejecting ink in defense, these squid expel a bioluminescent mucus from their arm tips when they sense a threat! Named for its dark color and red-ringed eyes, this juvenile vampire squid surprised researchers ascending from a mission in Sur Ridge in Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary.

(Photo: NOAA/MBARI) 

It’s so autumn like right now, rain and fallen leaves everywhere.

(I started to doodle to keep studying-related anxiety at bay, but as I drew En’s yawning face I began to yawn and kept yawning for like half an hour. I knew yawning was contagious but gdi En!!!)

Love is a power. Love is an old magic in any universe, but it is not enough. She listened to their breathing. She listened to her own. Love is a power, but it does not save your soul. You do.


So let’s give her a love worth dying for, worth fighting for and lying for and repenting. Let’s give her a love worth living for, and let’s make it herself.

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You texted me at half past twelve in the morning,
And I read your message without sending a reply.
Instead I wrote you an apology.
I deleted it because it said ‘sorry’ too many times
And I never did like to admit when I was wrong.
Sounds too much like ‘you were right’,
And that’s not true either.
But I do need to apologise,
Else I don’t think I’ll be able to back to sleep tonight.

So, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry that when you say “I miss you”,
I say “I know.”
I’m sorry that when you say “I love you”
I say “Thanks”.
I’m sorry that you keep trying to give,
While my hands refuse to cup themselves into receiver.
You see, they prefer open palm,
Outstretched fingers,
One to each side so they can pretend to be wings
So they can leave here.

And I know you think you can be enough to make me stay.
You tell me you’ll anchor me,
Because you say you love me heavy.
But all that does is fuel my take-off feet,
Fleeing into flight.
I don’t wanna be grounded.
I know they say it’s good to be down to Earth,
But there’s still 8 planets in this solar system
That I haven’t visited yet.

And yes, I’m counting Pluto-
He may be small, and cold, and virtually insignificant,
But that makes him a lot like me, and I like that.
And I like that other people like him.
It makes me think other people could like me, maybe.
Or maybe not, which is fine too-
But I’d really like it if you do.
Like me, that is.
I asked you once if you did and you said no.
Said you loved me.

The thing is,
I don’t want your love.
I can love myself.
I don’t need anyone’s help with that.
I can buy my own chocolates on Valentine’s day,
And I can know my own favorite books,
And I can walk myself to the door.

I don’t need that from you-
Don’t want that heavy love,
It can only weigh me down.
And I don’t mean to imply that it is a bad thing to love so much.
It is not a bad thing to love so much.
Just so long as you love like wind and not like anvil.

And maybe you were right when you said I was like Icarus-
Said I needed someone like you, 
To keep me from flying too close to the sun.
Or maybe, I am the sun,
And you are the wax-winged boy trying too hard to reach me-
How many times must I warn you about being burned by me?

A star cannot return a man’s affection.
I cannot love you like you pretend I do.
I do not need a mortal’s heart-
I do not need anyone’s heart.
I was born with one of my own,
It works just fine.
Having two will just put more weight in my chest.

So, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry you wanted a storybook romance I could not give you.
I am sorry that I did not turn out to be the princess you saved by slaying the dragon.

But I will not apologize for being the dragon,
While you aimed to clip my wings.
Convinced that if you could just get rid of my flight
I could be coerced into a ball gown,
And tamed into that damsel you’ve been searching for.

You tried so hard to take the sky from me-
Told me it was a thing easy enough to let go of-
Just close your eyes,
Loosen your grip,
And breath.

But, while you painted my scales pink,
You forgot I still had black ash trapped in my lungs.
Forgot I was still dragon.
Still sun.
Still breathed fire,
Even if I’d been shot out of the sky by Hou Yi’s arrow.

I will not apologize for this.
I will not apologize for being hard and sharp and birthed in flame.
Will not say sorry for these claws, or this smoke,
Or the faltering embers of myself.
Instead, I will fly.

I will cling to clouds like they are sturdier than they look.
I will choose a piece of constellation with a good view of the Earth,
Enough forest and ocean to fill me,
And I will light up the darkness with bursts of flame
That will never be extinguished,
By your wet-blanket sort of infatuation.

You will call me monster.
I will call me sun.
And neither of us will apologize.

—  08/30/15 //// its 1am and i dont think im sorry anymore
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I could watch this all fucking day