withering lilies

“And by the curse of the Nightwell I am damned to wither away. As my…city…burns." 

I’m totally in love with EVERYTHING in Suramar. Had to paint my fave character. From the aesthetics, to the questing, to the story it’s amazing.

Gul’dan you better keep your greasy mits off this zone I swear to god if it blows up….

I fathom sleep

the garden follows

the sun with his thousand gold horns,

conjuring the spirit of unnameable

swelling depths                    aflame

                all that was always his

I say,
swallow-tail and turn

the mouth is fiction, is name

a saccharine lyre tempting my lovelorn



my arms are heft of corpses

that dream and sing of thee


out in the spellbound sea

where arrow glimmers,   and 

Sirius gleams

I feel    part of and               apart

I cannot leave 

say to the mouth: you are greed

I am fig & river & keep me

all this living is wild and tedious

earth wields rime scoured gatetower,

wyvern & barrow-wight

the fast tarnish of gravesap          

and skullcap
    & all the women that pass by

they are dressed in their bonewhite


vanishing off to their errands,

I am one of them

split-lip & up-lit & breathing for you,

we ripen

moon-glad, flashing war-gear & crazed,

but still, she will not come                

I have found

in the blue that there is always the tremor

of a  throat


she wounds me and does not see,

divinely unempathetic

faceless in a field,

such riveting-red, such mother-lament,

all this mourning & wet

no disenchantment can long be concealed

the sun, tamed dragon, licks her hands

to tears

the oaks are thick with their dusks & crows

no marvel, I

who have sung my way through this world

with a mouth of withered lilies

a world owned by men and their touching

& so the furtive love I harbor at my throat,

opens,             I leave myself everywhere.

. I do not notice.

Surely I’m not the only person wishing holby city did a post watershed version, full of sweary rants by Serena, Army levels of banter and piss taking by Bernie, Mo doing a stand up show, and Jac Naylor with more withering put downs than Lily Savage.

Headcanon #2

Despite everything, Lily loved her older sister and it hurt her much that she and Vernon (even if she wasn’t a big fan of him) didn’t want to be in touch with her. James, seeing how much his beloved one suffered, bought her a petunia bouquet and cast a special spell on it so Lily could always know if her sister was safe. On October 31, 1981 Lily flower withered while Petunia lived for many years.

To Take (Pt.2)

Summary: With all your memories gone, and the sudden information that you are now a vampire–who do you trust? Do you trust your mind that says to hate Yoongi? Or your heart that says you could never?

Part One

Three weeks after your sudden awakening into the life of a vampire, you finally found the library. Turns out the entire basement of the castle was a maze of libraries–of which, none were labeled. The unhelpful nature of the castle and its books did not aid in your quest to remember/ figure out whom the hell you were supposed to be/ what were you now that you were a vampire.

The first room you stumbled upon was a mess: dusty and cluttered to the point that some rows of tables were positively littered with books, scraps of papers, quills, modern pens, random notes in languages you couldn’t read nevertheless speak, texts that were in equally strange tongues, and piles upon piles of printed images ranging from frayed old parchment to newer, sleeker photographs. The mildew in the room caused you to sneeze practically every two feet; if there was one thing about immortality, it was that it did not clear your allergies.

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in the
cold dark soil of mire,

where we find the last bones
of twilight still churning

all love abandons me

a pheasant,      I sleep in the  
marshgrass,     hushed in the
colors of  duskblush

the lily withers
to ash

pulsing dark against
fathomless waters

for you
who are inscrutable

blue thistles,
blue mourning

we all hear voices and
no one sleeps

all the world betrays us

you will be buried here
in my nowhere,

within the thickets
the limitless swell of
     the unnameable

Presenting the Potters

J —

I’m about to ask you the most Muggleborn question of my life, but I’m very nervous and hope that you’ll accommodate me.

What exactly do wizarding families wear? Should I come in robes? Dress robes? Slacks? My bell bottoms? A nice dress? A jumper? My Hogwarts uniform? I’m at a complete loss. 

Marlene is too busy laughing at my panic to answer appropriately; so any and all help would be greatly appreciated.

— L


Wear whatever you’re comfortable in! Mum and dad will likely be in robes, but I’d entertain the idea of dressing like a Muggle if it means I get to see your arse in those jeans. 

Assuming you’re not keen on that, though, I’d say robes you’re comfortable in or just a dress. My parents really aren’t going to mind either way. They’re just thrilled to be meeting you. 

I’ll see you in approximately 2 hours — please keep functioning until then.



J — 

As of right now, I’m going to wear a dress. I need you to be completely honest with me: is this inappropriate? Too Muggle?

The word here is feedback, Potter. I live for it.

— L

Ps. I’ll save the jeans for when you meet my mum. It’ll give you something to look forward to.



Despite your apparent lack of knowledge, dresses do exist in wizarding high society. And you’ll look lovely in one. 

I will now politely bow out of this conversation, as I am in no way qualified to be dishing out fashion advice.

I’ll see you in an hour. Stay strong.



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