I hope you enjoy my shifty poetry 😚


You asked me to see some nudes,
Before asking my favorite book.
But I was happy to meet you anyway.

You asked ‘why do you want me?’
“I want to know your beautiful mind”
I replied, hoping for more.
When I returned the question
“Sexiest hips I’ve ever seen” was all I received.
But I was happy to hear your wanting anyway

You acted like your body was
The only gift I’d ever need
while, I was a forgotten trinket
At the bottom of your toy box.
But I longed… for you anyway.

You talked about the world,
Under the embers of your cigarette.
And I so love the way you spoke,
My porcelain skin, stained by my bleeding heart,
But you never noticed anyway.

You asked me over one night.
Why? Was the question on my lips
And when the answer was that
Not you, but your body needed me
I came over anyway

We went on like this
Until I asked a final,
“Why do you want me?”
And at your answer
I turned and walked away.

My porcelain skin,
Darkened now from the smoke of your embers
Split by the coughs your cigarettes left
My bleeding heart filling the cracks
From the wake of your leaving
But you’re… still happy anyway.

Hey everyone, I wanted to reach out and ask for some headcanon submissions. Please submit your Gryffindor headcanons to this blog! We receive a staggering amount of asks, many of which are requests for us to write our own headcanons. 

While we at gryffindor-headcanons love to answer asks and come up with our own headcanons, we need outside submissions too to keep this blog active with new content and focused on what we made this blog to do, which is to share Gryffindor ideas in one place.

So please help us out and take a moment to send in a headcanon! Any little Gryffindor-related idea will do; traditions about Gryffindors during holidays, their interactions with other houses, or even things about Gryffindors in classes. We would love to hear your ideas! Help us keep this blog full of beautiful, original content, and we’ll do our best to make it a home for all Gryffindors and fans of the house.

Lots of Gryffindor lion-love,


wastelands stained the colors of the setting sun

Here are the hungry streets, winding through smoke-stained buildings and 
lamp posts that flicker out at night. I walk these roads in the 
unbecoming of dusk, feel myself seeping into the dusty 
sun-bleeding-out. each time the colors are an attack, pulsating
strangely in the empty space. and here is where I feel the chill of 
desolation. here is where i flesh out the seams of my skin, and become

in every dark glitter of broken glass, I see your reflection, the pale
curve of your face. your forever tragic eyes. in every stir of wind I can’t help but feel your
breath, sighing out. the coldness settles over my shoulders, and my
fingers clench into trembling fists when I allow myself to feel the
hole of missing-you. of knowing you can leave whenever, that maybe you might
love me less. i try to read the fractures in your palm, but I can’t help but
cling onto the rattle of my own chain mail. 

i can stand the bitterness of wanting, yes, and i can stomach the hurt of
holding on. the distance folds in on itself, and in the quiet, nothing echos 
but for my footsteps on the sidewalk. the hollowness reverberates somewhere
deep and shadowed in my chest. i recount the late nights when my brother
didn’t come home, try to forget the feeling of grinding cigarette butts into the
gravel. i wish the screaming would dissolve into shooting stars; i wish the 
cement would morph into flower fields. 

I wonder, have I always been so good at running away? at each bridge i crumble 
a little bit more. at each setting of the sun i shrink a little further into myself, 
trying to cover my ears, but still I can hear them. 
the press of their bloody hearts. their beats. their pulses. i feel them hanging in the sky, 
hidden suns radiating heaviness. i hear them calling, singing, saying my name. 
come home, they tell me, 
come home

(Written and submitted by @all-i-do-is-run-away)
jen © 2016 

The Bathroom

“A year ago I was sitting with my back against the bathroom door and about two meters in front of me was the bathtub. A bottle of face wash with a pump on the top flew across the two meters and hit the wall behind me so hard that the pump came off and flew underneath the sink beside me. 

I ran the fuck out of there and when I went back in 20 minutes later the pump of the face wash that was under the sink was in the middle of the bathroom along with the rest of the bottle. I have no explanation for this except for a spirit. If the bottle slipped of the tub then it would have fallen onto the floor directly underneath the bathtub. The face wash flew at least 2 meters across the room so hard that the top broke off.”

By: @winchestersdestiel