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#poetry or something idk

angelbambisworld · 1 month

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I sit up in bed, eyes heavy and full of woe

I wonder to myself why on Earth we love

When people just come and go

#poetry or something idk #i cant sleep so im just up dicking around #thinkinh about deep shit yknow

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actual-changeling · 3 months

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It's amazing what a little death earns you // Natalie Wee

Crowley cannot remember a time when he wasn't scared.

It is as if his essence crawled out of the depths of hell and made a home in fear, trusting that vigilance and paranoia would finally keep him safe. A lonely existence, one filled with shaking hands and grinding teeth, but better than the alternative.

(He never knew what other option there was, and he doesn't now, either, but there has to be.

There has to be.)

Crowley is still scared, more terrified than ever, because he is no longer just lonely, he is alone—and earth is empty, cold.

Abandoned.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #idk what this is. something. emotions vomited into a post #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #poetry edit #goodomensedit #goodomensgifs

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zeb-z · 5 months

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demon girl tina who shaves her horns down, who tries to be everything a demon isn’t. never angry, never pressed, sweet and easygoing. perfect in every sense of the term. who’s traumatized from purgatory, who’s afraid of losing what she loves as much as she’s afraid of being shunned by who she loves for what she is. for all the imperfections that fracture her perfect image. who craves trust, a place to belong, the secret of who she is just bubbling under the surface, shaved down and hidden just underneath the cat ears she wears.

human girl bagi who embraces imperfection, who loves with loyalty and longevity. who would go to the ends of the earth for her loved ones, knowing their worst sins, their terrible crimes, and going I will love you anyway. I will be there for you anyway. who’s best friend is a demon, who she knows is a demon, who she met at his worst, and wouldn’t let him go through it alone. who understands the importance of secrets, which means she knows the value of honesty, and is ready to lay out all her truths once she cares about someone enough, trusts them enough.

tina getting flighty and nervous when she’s told that it’s love what bagi feels - not because she doesn’t feel the same, but because she does, and it’s all she’s ever wanted, and isn’t that just terrifying? because she doesn’t think she fully deserves it. not yet at least! and she doesn’t want to lose it. imperfect, clumsy, secretly a demon tina, still processing purgatory and everything that came before, so afraid because she believes she can’t measure up. once she’s worked on herself, once she’s perfect, she says. once she stops panicking at purgatory flashbacks, once she stops losing her temper, once she can provide stability, once she’s shaved her horns and they stop growing back - then she’ll be ready. as soon as she’s made herself into something easily lovable.

bagi listens to tina as she spills some of this to her, under the moonlight along the beach. not quite all her worries, but some, just like she had given not quite her whole heart, but a part of it, in that room that represents bagi’s mind. and bagi doesn’t press for more than what she’ll give, because she cherishes what has been given already, because she’s in no rush and has no where else to go, because above all else, she’s in love and willing to wait. and in the meantime, she’ll reassure tina that she doesn’t want perfection - she just wants tina the way she is.

#dude the build up to this date didn’t disappoint holy shit #the comedy of bad and dapper. the way some of that transitions into more serious moments because of tina hiding her demon nature #tina wanting to give bagi perfection and bagi just wanting tina. bagi wanting to give tina the world and tina just wanting bagi. Man #and the silly little play pretend with Richas that ended up being poetry. their secret is they love eachother. that they’re terrified of #losing this. of losing eachother. of not giving enough. the moon will keep this safe #and. tina promising to protect bagi for the rest of her life. knowing she’s effectively immortal and bagi….isn’t #also smth about how it’s human mortal bagi willing to wait for demon tina. idk something is there #there’s poetry and rhymes and endless things to take from this date tonight tbh but I can’t connect it all rn #but my god they cooked #mcyt #qsmp #q!tina #q!bagi #teaduo #z speaks

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lostryu · 5 months

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i love how in the pockets of my leather jacket can be weeks worth of memories. like the acorn she gave me at the farmers market. the marble we found in a parking lot during our road trip. a penny i got as change from grocery shopping, the exact color of her eyes. the bottle caps of the soda we drank when we stargazed in the park. her chapstick. i keep them there and carry them with me wherever i go, a constant reminder of her.

#lost.txt #lesbian #not quite poetry #but still something about her #idk i love her a lot #gf tag

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trensu · 24 days

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Heyyy, long time no post, huh? I'm dropping another chunk of stasis in darkness for you guys! And I wanted to remind people that these posts are basically rough drafts. The final product will hopefully be more polished but in the meantime please enjoy!

After Steve convinced the old man he meant no harm, he’d been allowed into the home. The Lord of Night hadn’t been super specific about the purpose of his quest, only that Steve had to bring him to Wayne Munson. Steve discreetly looked around the home as he entered it. The old man was obviously unwell and had been for a while, given the state of the house. Steve had the creeping suspicion that the time limit the Lord of Night mentioned was linked to the man’s health.

“What are you doing?” Wayne Munson asked suspiciously once he had returned to the kitchen with Steve in tow. He had sat heavily in one of the old worn chairs at the table but Steve, instead of joining him, began to clear the table on impulse. Steve halted awkwardly.

“This ain’t your house, boy,” Wayne said with a scowl. “I can take care of myself.”

Steve did his very best not to look at the scattered mess in the kitchen or living room. It was not the mess of a dirty, careless person. It was the mess of someone tired and overwhelmed. It was the mess of someone in pain who was too proud to ask for help. Steve took in Wayne Munson’s watery eyes, wan skin, and the clothes that were plain things, tattered from use, but mostly stain-free. Steve quickly added all these details and came up with a plan of attack. He set the plate back down.

“Yes, sir,” Steve agreed easily. “I’m aware, but I serve the Lord of Night and he sent me to you specifically. In our god’s name, I must assist you in any way I can.”

Wayne’s expression wavered. Steve pushed again. He lowered his gaze in a slightly embarrassed manner, letting a note of uncertainty color his words.

“I don’t know what else to do until nightfall,” Steve said. He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. “I don’t want him to think I’ve neglected you.”

“What happens at nightfall?” Wayne asked.

“It’s when the Lord of Night wants to see you,” Steve said. Wayne blinked.

“Me? He wants to see me?”

“Yeah! So, if you could please let me,” Steve said, putting on his most endearing smile, “I’d like to take care of you until then. You know, make sure you’re comfortable and get the place ready for a divine visit. If it’s not too much trouble, sir?”

“Uh, no, that should be fine. Is…is there anything I should do?” Wayne asked dazedly.

“Not really. All I know is he really wants to see you tonight. Oh, maybe you’d like to rest until then? A nap, so you’re not drowsy when he arrives.”

Wayne nods, still in shock at the news. He didn’t protest when Steve helped him out of the chair and let him lean his weight on him as they navigated to the bedroom. Wayne sat on the bed as Steve drew curtains closed over the room’s single window. The curtains were thick enough to dim the sun to a pale yellow glow.

“I didn’t know there was anyone else who followed him,” Wayne said as he lay himself down over the covers.

"He told me you’re the only one left, besides me,” Steve told him. “And I only discovered him a month ago by accident.”

“By accident?” Wayne asked with a wry grin.

“My friends found a holy text when we were researching other gods. It was the only one of his in the city's whole library. Then we had a hell of a time trying to find his last shrine. When I finally found it, it was falling apart. He’s been forgotten,” Steve said. At Wayne’s troubled expression, he hurriedly added, “But now that I’ve pledged myself to him, I’m going to make sure people know him again.”

Wayne did not appear convinced, but he finally settled to rest after Steve promised to wake him before sunset. Steve took the opportunity to clean. He hadn’t been lying to Wayne when he said he wasn’t sure what to do until nightfall. It didn’t help that Steve also liked to keep himself busy. Being idle made him itch.

The house was small. Aside from Wayne's bedroom, there was only a cramped kitchen and a modest living room. From the small window of the backdoor, Steve could see a short, worn path to an outhouse.

Given the size of the house, though there was a mess everywhere, it didn’t take Steve very long to clean it all. When it was done to his satisfaction, there were still a few hours left until sunset so he wandered outside. The porch railing was covered with broad green leaves from intertwining vines but Steve left that alone when he saw the small garden nearby. It was full of ripe vegetables that Steve assumed Wayne had been unable to pick himself given his condition.

By the time Steve had picked the vegetables, pulled the weeds, and watered the garden, the sun hung low in the horizon. He cleaned himself up the best he could in the kitchen sink and took one of the chairs from the table to the bedroom before waking Wayne.

He told Wayne what he accomplished during Wayne’s repose. While Wayne expressed his gratitude politely enough, it was still apparent to Steve that the old man was irritated at having needed the assistance at all. To keep Wayne from dwelling on that, as well as to satisfy his own curiosity, he coaxed Wayne into conversation.

“Can I ask, uh, how you–I mean, how did you know? How did you know the Lord of Night existed?"

Wayne laughed at Steve’s befuddled tone. The laugh turned into a coughing fit. Steve quickly fetched him a glass of water and put it on the bedside table after Wayne had a drink.

“My family’s a bunch of no-good criminals,” Wayne croaked. “Were. It’s only me now. But before, each generation of Munsons took it up. Like a family tradition.”

“Criminals?” asked Steve cautiously.

“Thieves and con men. Some ladies of the night, if you catch my meaning. They knew of our Lord of Night and passed the knowledge down,” Wayne sighed sadly. “The life of a criminal ain’t what you call stable. We lost bits and pieces of him with every generation. Like his name. No one’s known his name for a very long time. Is that why he wants to see me? Did I fail him?”

There was genuine distress in Wayne’s question so Steve hid his disappointment. He had hoped the Lord of Night’s last worshiper would at least have a clue about where to start the search for the lost name. He focused, instead, on reassuring the old man.

“I don’t know why he wants to see you, but he wasn’t angry when he sent me. He sounded excited.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing,” Wayne said uncertainly.

“Definitely,” Steve assured. Before Wayne could sink into his gloom again, Steve said, “I know you said you’ve lost some knowledge, but do you know if the Lord of Night has any prayers? I haven’t…I mean, I’ve tried to worship him but I don’t think I can do it right without a prayer. I’m kind of new at all this.”

“My ma used to say our Lord didn’t have patience for formalities,” Wayne said, brow furrowed. “They bored him so he only had a few official prayers. There was one where we’d thank him for any dreams he gave us. I think there was another one that asked for dreams to bring inspiration or something of that sort. I don’t really remember those–ma would be boxing my ears for that if she was still around. I remember the one for protection, since we used that one a lot. It goes:

Lord of Night, Guide us through all phases Of the moon; May the dark be free of All dangers, While your many stars burn.

Wayne’s voice cracked into a coughing fit near the end. Steve hurriedly offered him water again once Wayne had caught it again. Wayne took a few mouthfuls and repeated the prayer again so Steve could learn it. It took a few tries, but Wayne was patient and by the end of it, Steve had it memorized.

“Is that the only one?” Steve asked, hoping to learn more. Wayne grimaced.

“It’s the only one I really remember. The Lord of Night prefers stories. My ma would tell us the best bedtime stories. Said they were for our god as much as for me and my brother. I was never good at coming up with new stories, so I retell my favorites or tell our Lord about my days and give him a little offering.”

Steve wasn't much of a story teller. He supposed he could do as Wayne did until he met up with Robin and Dustin again. They constantly chatted about books they’d read. Steve couldn’t help but notice how, once again, his friends seemed a better fit for his god than he was; all Steve could give his god was his shield and sword. It was discouraging. He had to figure out a way to make up for it somehow.

“What kind of offerings?” Steve asked.

He wanted to give his god more; he wanted to give the Lord of Night something he’d actually like. It wasn’t lost on him that the Lord of Night took him under duress. Who else would’ve been able to complete this quest?

“When I was young, it was horse shoes,” Wayne chuckled at Steve’s confusion. “Thieves are supposed to give him a part of their loot but my ma and pa were horse thieves. They got horseshoes and would leave one for each horse they stole, tied with a braid made of the stolen horse’s mane.”

“You stole horses?” Steve said, unable to fight off a grin as he remembered the conversation he had with the Lord of Night about it.

“Me and my brother, before he passed,” Wayne said with a weak nod.

The sky had darkened by now. Steve pulled the stone out of his satchel. He carefully unwrapped it from the cloth and set it gently on the bedside table next to the glass of water. Wayne eyed it quizzically.

“It’s from his shrine,” Steve explained. Without any further fussing, Steve stood up and went to the door.

“Don’t leave,” the Lord of Night said.

Steve turned to see the god, hooded in his cloak of constellations, sitting in the chair Steve had vacated. The Lord of Night had not even glanced Steve's way when he spoke to him. The god’s attention rested solely on Wayne.

Steve hadn’t seen or spoken to the Lord of Night since he’d been accepted as his holy warrior. The god had needed to conserve his energy, he explained to Steve, so that Steve could complete his quest. The god’s cloak was as mesmerizing as the first time. However, this far from the shrine, the god did not look as solid as he had during the nights he spent with Steve.

“I wanted to give you two some privacy,” Steve said softly.

“I think Wayne would appreciate not being alone,” the Lord of Night said.

The old man stared at the god unblinkingly. Wayne’s expression was one of awe and fear, so Steve did as he was told and stayed in the room though he chose to lean on the wall furthest from the pair. He was still close to them in the tiny bedroom, but it provided the pretense of privacy.

“My Lord?” Wayne’s voice was barely audible.

“Hello. I’ve wanted to meet you for years,” the god said.

#trensu tells stories #steddie #stasis in darkness #stranger things #i'm gonna be honest #i absolutely have no idea how prayers are structured and i've got like zero experience in poetry #i do NOT like how the prayer turned out but #i did my best okay?#steve is so eager to use holy words #i had to give him SOMETHING #also #i'm starting to think i should've been like numbering these posts or something #but it's not like they're actual chapters or have a consistent length yknow?#so idk

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theotherrichardpapen · 1 year

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desire - clementine von radics // intimacy - angelica alzona // bloodsport - yves olade // that unwanted animal - the amazing devil // the banquet - guillermo lorca garcia-huidobro // things have gotten worse since we last spoke - eric larocca // the body - stephen king // bones and all (2022) // dialogue between ghost and priest - sylvia plath // stem peels & pits collaboration with stephanie gonot - samantha margherita // give me a god i can relate to - blythe baird

#idk what the me of 2 months ago was going through when i started this but he was certainly going through something #just a random collection of things at this point #more of a catharsis post than anything else #posting now because everytime i went to save an updated draft it would delete pieces of it #as with most of my stuff this started out as something like minds related and slowly morphed into its own entity #quotes #art #dark academia #dark academia aesthetic #web weaving #compilation #poetry #literature #romanticism #cannibalism motif #cannibalism #love

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glasswaters · 1 year

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pick yourself off the floor, child. you are not finished.

you still have things to give, in the hollow of your mouth and under that thin skin. there is still gold upon your head and pearls within your gums. your spine still bends just so.

your ribcage has long since started blooming and you've yet petals to harvest from your spine. your heart is beating, and your lungs lay, torn, alive in the pit of you.

can't you see them move? take that breath. open that maw, and drink air from my palms. your shoulders are not worn to dust, and your feet still hold your weight.

the pillars are crumbling, dear thing. the skies are ripping at the seams. another red giant. another sunset. another layer of skin.

you were made for this. don't be silly now. straighten your back and let me wipe all this mess from your dear face. look at me, soiling myself for you. was not this handkerchief once white? however will i get that stain out?

hold on, child. you are not finished. Even torn hands can carry heavy loads. Even phantom fingers can sew.

and you were chosen. don't lay down that honour.

#chosen one #poetry #writerblr #writers of tumblr #poets of tumblr #my work #spilled ink #spilled words #on being chosen #on sacrifice #gore #blood #idk if this is gaslighting but it sure is Something #a dialogue between a hero and their narrative #in which heroics are made of heroes #adventurerswrite

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wildflower-rain · 24 days

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Parts and pieces. We’re parts and pieces. We’re one but not the same. Like

Stained glass

And pages of a book

And stars in far off constellations

We’re threads of the same fabric

Individual brush strokes of some elaborate incomplete beautiful painting

Strands of grass

So imperceptibly close that we’re the same. The same thing. But not exactly. Sometimes we are. Sometimes we’re not. We’re close together but if you come in close. Really really damn close, we’re not the same. There is distinction. Separateness. Microscopic fissures make us ever so slightly apart.

Come in real close. Can you see the differences?

#I don’t know what this is exactly #poetry almost. to me at least.#idk #i don’t know.#things are odd right now #it’s been a… something night #not great #he they #i am not the only one here #I don’t think I ever really am #idk.#goodnight #or something

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angelbambisworld · 5 months

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I gave you the world but you eated it

#funny #poetry or something idk #please someone get this #meme

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ven-of-the-valley · 11 days

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I am going to try and put this in as few words as possible, because my roommate and I spent an hour talking about this today; but there is truly nothing more incredible to me than human creativity.

Like, you’re telling me someone made this? You’re telling me this art came from someone’s own hand? You’re telling me this story came from someone’s mind? You’re telling me that someone as flawed and mortal and lost as me made this?

There is a beauty in math and in science, I am not here to argue that. But mathematics existed long before us. Science will exist long after us. And while the knowledge we have is a wonder, it is not ours. We did not make one and one equal two, we only learned and accepted that it did.

But our art is not universal. Our music was born through us. Our writing will die with us. And there is so much more beauty in knowing that we have made something. People have language and culture and poetry not because it was fact, but by our own whim and design.

This is something AI can never fulfill. An algorithm cannot create, it can only compile. A computer generated image has no link to us, to human emotion. To human flaw and struggle and passion.

Art is beautiful, and creation is the most powerful thing a person can do. Your stories, your art, hell, your fanfic and original characters, they exist not because of universal laws of math and physics, but because of your mind and skill; and if that isn’t the most amazing thing in the world, then what is?