i think all of us should just have days at work and uni where we bring crayons and paint brushes and clay and spend the day making ridiculous doodles and writing names of our classmates/colleagues on it and giving it to them while eating ice cream and chips on a giant lawn under a bright sky
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Slytherin x Hufflepuff Slowburn: Chapter 7 – Possession (Part One)
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 - Part 1 | Chapter 5 - Part 2 | Chapter 6
~
Slytherin doesn’t see Hufflepuff as often as he used to before she started dating Nicholas a month ago
He finally comes across her at the library–alone, this time
Hufflepuff looks surprised when he appears at her table, but her expression is pleasant as she greets him
“We should hang out sometime,” he says. “I feel like I haven’t seen you since…well, just in a long time.”
“How about now? I just finished all my work.”
Slytherin’s face lights up and he begins to respond when Nicholas appears beside her
Slytherin looks away as Nicholas and Hufflepuff kiss, and he gives a curt nod when Nicholas says that he needs to pull her away for a moment to talk
They walk out of the library and stand near the entrance where Nicholas expresses his jealousy, to which Hufflepuff reassures him that Slytherin is just a friend
“It doesn’t seem like it,” Nicholas says. “I see the way he looks at you.”
She frowns. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
As they argue, Slytherin steps out to see what’s going on and overhears Nicholas
“So you’ve never seen Slytherin as anything more than a friend?”
Her back facing Slytherin, Hufflepuff lies
“No.”
At this, Nicholas finally seems to relax and pulls her in for a heated kiss
Slytherin can’t seem to move from his spot, a searing lump burning his throat as he watches
He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there until Nicholas pulls away and spots him
With a smirk, Nicholas asks if he’s been spying on them. The glint in his eyes tells Slytherin that he probably knew he had been standing there all this time
“I was just about to leave,” he responds, keeping his voice even. His lungs feel like the air had been sucked out from him
“Maybe some other time for our hangout, then?” Nicholas’s eyes flicker over to Hufflepuff at this, his brows furrowing just the slightest bit
Slytherin’s lips stretch into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. They are lit with an emotion Hufflepuff can’t quite pinpoint, but it makes her stomach churn
She watches him leave, unaware of Nicholas as he studies her face
A/N: It's about to get realllll angsty yall...
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Don’t you just love everything after the rain? The way the road looks, the cool breeze, the smell of the soil, walking on wet grass barefoot, splashing water from puddles, the crickets sound as if they’re chirping for the first time. Seeing someone’s ceiling fan through their open window makes me wonder if below it there’s a family of two kids listening to bedtime stories. Isn’t it good to find reasons to thank God for making you human? I want to know how the nature is so effortlessly itself. Even when it changes it doesn’t seem to be faking it. Who else out there loves the rain so much that they jump during the storm because it’s gonna rain instead of worrying about the dirt and dust?
adreameratdawn
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Absent”,
first spit itself out
of my kindergarten mouth
after the name of a missing friend
during classroom attendance.
Absence
is a measurement.
It's the empty humans measure with
all things important to them.
Absence spells like a brutal telegram bearing bad news,
the possibility of absence is a rat trap I'm terrified
of walking into.
I believed what Darwin said about the survival of the fittest
and of every species that lives
only a human once watched her children laugh
by the fire- then grazed her fingers in soot after they slept
and drew them on the rock where the moonlight fell.
I know what is today probably won’t be tomorrow so I take
my campfire moments
and put them in a poem.
Life doesn't break its rules even if I do
so I become a caveman
painting the feeling when you grab my hand to bite it
but give a soft kiss instead.
every time life and I play cards
she gets all the aces while I,
in my trembling heart hold a card
called 'hope'
and before my turn,
I scribble in brackets,
your name.
~ anatomy
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love is inclusion. i love you i want you to be a part of my life, i want what happens to me to be an opportunity for you to participate with me. you love me. i want you to tell me show me call me be with me reach out. love is often thought of as counting on someone.
it is also always counting them in.
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people in my comics dreamt
in cloud bubbles hanging
over their heads when they slept.
My hand raised itself in my sleep last night,
caught the dream of you and me
like a kite
and tied it to the edge of my bed.
I spent the entire morning, afternoon and evening
watching it from beginning to end to
beginning to end to beginning
to end to beginn-
“i have buck teeth”, you said
your mouth is a carnivorous flower
bending downwards to kiss my cheek,
its the erect keys of a harmonium
with plucked out reeds.
It shapeshifts like a mythical being
becomes a thick red carpet
flashing bright canine clicks
watching my jealousy get caught in glass doors
of grocery stores before we swallow
golden fizz,
your apple-burp in my ear roars
motorbike engines to life-
I turn to scold but vomit a word too strong
for early-twenties to digest-
a chuckle escapes your cave
where names of politicians hang upside down
and tosses the four heavy letters away-
just around the near future, (I hope).
Your mouth is my favourite thing about you,
after your hands and your mind and your laugh
and how much you talk about your sister.
You asked, "Mummy, did you dye your hair?"
as a round about way of telling her she looked pretty;
My Pappa's snarky comments about my exam blunders
haven't upset me since.
My hand raised itself in my sleep last night,
caught the dream of you and me
like a kite
and tied it to the edge of your bed
where I laid and watched you tell me
news controversies through the toothpaste foam
in your mouth as you brushed your teeth.
~ 8hrs Dream
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the rain is falling hard outside my window
and my room smells like wet earth,
i miss my friends drinking tea
and laughing without me
but i have always loved the rain, i have
loved it in the way that i never feel bad
wherever it visits me.
i love it right now
like i always have but its not the only thing
i love these days- i love you, too.
just the way my hand slides
down your arm and braids with your fingers.
others have you and the rain
i have only one
but others don't love you or the rain
like i do
i should have you.
i break.
~ wet longings
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on occasions i would see a girl
on the metro with a guy
whom she would walk in with holding hands
and stand a little closer to than needed.
i would know in one glance of her laugh
that whatever is funny, is only funny for them.
i would roll my eyes past because its rude to stare
and know the crowd is making her hold her kisses.
i would pretend to read my book as i noticed her
mumble "bye" with a smile as he left,
as the train left the platform with him
watching her through the glass of the door moving away.
i would steal a look as her phone would flash and
she would smile over a text from him.
i would wonder if she's scared about him, about
all this being the beautiful that
every passenger watched without watching.
i would wonder what she thinks when life old wisdom
of youthful longing never lasting interrupted her reckless passion.
i would,
as i do now
because
you
have made me
that girl.
~ Blue Line Yellow Line
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my cheek is where the water ends and he
like a goldfish, floats to the surface for a nibble
that sends tickles ice-skating across my neck.
The soft chew leaves a watermark
that he wipes off with his hand-
my heart laughs like a kid then prays like a mother.
A congregation of promises bubbles up in my mouth,
I bite my teeth and swallow them down.
I turn to him and whisper, "one more," as I melt again
and he comes sailing through, to touch my surface.
The drum in my chest makes ancient music
when we board the train holding hands
and then lets out a war-cry
when it sees no station named 'forever.'
At night I spend my strength vacuum sealing my chest
so that fear doesn't contaminate other parts of me,
he sees the bags under my eyes and says, "please get some sleep."
In my hands I keep our secrets and origami and hugs,
in his hands I entrust stories of my parents, my tears and fun.
Love,
stuck itself between my teeth, refusing to be pushed into my belly,
wrapped around my tongue and blew out like bubble gum.
A balloon may pop or float away or deflate and die,
I hold onto mine gently as I lean in and give him a goldfish bite.
He turns and whispers, "one more."
~ goldfish metro ride
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