“There is a certain unexplained respite in the arms of a lover, after the world has drained you dry.”
— Channing H.M (via le-immorte)
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@sempervinctus
“There is a certain unexplained respite in the arms of a lover, after the world has drained you dry.”
— Channing H.M (via le-immorte)
SENTENCE MEME ⟶ HOZIER / WASTELAND, BABY! always feel free to tweak the sentence to fit your muse.
“The fear of fellow man is mere assignment.”
“The same kind of music haunts her bedroom.”
“I’m almost me again, and she’s almost you.”
“I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Don’t ruin this on me.”
“Tell me who, and I’ll thank them for it.”
“I laugh like me again, and she laughs like you.”
“I still watch you when you’re grooving.”
“As if through water from the bottom of pool, you’re moving without moving.”
“You are a call to motion.”
“I could never define all that you are to me.”
“You are the rite of movement.”
“I can recall something that’s gone from me.”
“I’m put in awe of something so flawed and free.”
“Move me, like you’ve nothing left to prove and nothing to lose.”
“You’re an odd sight come out at night.”
“What a waste to say the heart could feel apart or feel complete.”
“It’s the screaming, heaving fuckery of the world.”
“All things come from nothing.”
“My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand.”
“The harder the rain, the sweeter the sun.”
“I’ll be your man if you’ve got love to get done.”
“There will be darkness again.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
“I shouldn’t hope to know, but here I stand.”
“It’s gin o’clock.”
“I think about you everywhere I go.”
“I’ve had no love like your love.”
“I’d be appalled if I ever saw you try to be a saint.”
“I wouldn’t fall for someone I thought couldn’t misbehave.”
“Why should we deny the truth?”
“We could have less to worry about.”
“I won’t lie to you.”
“Remember when you’d sing, just for the fuck of it?”
“The look of it was as sweet as the sound.”
“You put your emptiness to melody.”
“My heart is screaming.”
“Whatever here is left of me is yours.”
“Your love was unmoved.”
“Make your good love known to me, or just tell me about your day.”
“The nights were as dark as my baby, and half as beautiful too.”
“I couldn’t utter my love when it counted.”
“I couldn’t whisper when you needed it, and I shouted.”
“Remember me, when I’m reborn as the shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn.”
“All of my goodness is going with you now.”
“I’m flying like a bird to you now.”
“I was housed by your warmth.”
“I was transformed by your grounded and giving.”
“I’d be the choiceless hope in grief.”
“Imagine being loved by me.”
“I’ve got in my mind now, all the things I would do.”
“I’ll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I’m imagining you.”
“I’d be the last shred of truth in the myth of true love.”
“Be as you’ve always been.”
“Be the love that discovered the sin that freed the first man.”
“Be love in its disrepute.”
“I’d suffer hell if you’d tell me what you’d do to me tonight.”
“This is the kind of love I’ve been dreaming of.”
“Let there be hotel complaints and grievances raised.”
“Let there be damage ensues and tabloid news.”
“You’re good to me, baby.”
“With the roar of the fire, my heart rose to its feet.”
“It settles soft and as pure as snow.”
“I feel in love with the fire long ago.”
“With each love I cut loose, I was never the same.”
“Your love is sunlight.”
“The tale is the same, told before and told again.”
“All that was shown to me was something foreknown to me.”
“Each day you rise to me, know that I would gladly be the Icarus to your certainty.”
“All the fear and fire of the end of the world happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl.”
“Wasteland, baby, I’m in love with you.”
“Be still, my undelible friend, you are unbreaking.”
“I love, too, a love that soon might end.”
“It’s the start of all things that are left to do.”
Ann Aguirre, Doubleblind
Submitted by randomkiwibirds.
Living beyond your years. Acting out all their fears. You feel it in your chest. Your hands protect the flames from the wild winds around you Icarus is flying too close to the sun Icarus’s life, it has only just begun It’s just begun Standing on the cliff face. Highest fall you’ll ever grace. It scares me half to death.
Original Harry Potter Character – Danyal Salama. Uagadou graduate. Professional Quidditch player. Up-and-coming archaeologist. Private & semi selective. – Dreamed up by Sharky ©
O LORD my God, If I have done this; if there be iniquity on my hands; Let the enemy persecute my soul, and take it; let him tread down my life upon the earth, and lay mine honour in the d u s t.
fatherhayes. original character. private & semi-selective.
Bellatrix.
Bellatrix visibly tensed up as he hugged her. She remained stiff as a board, eyes wide in surprise and awkwardly wedging her arm out of the embrace to hold her drink outstretched so that it wasn’t smashing between them. Of course the act of affection was not reciprocated. This was a very grand tactic on his part, yes. She had to give him that. Sirius really had gone the extra mile to infiltrate the Dark Lord’s empire and try to obtain information. At least, she was still quite sure.. but maybe, 90% sure, when he began to cry. For an instant Bella considered that perhaps her cousin had truly come around. Still, she was far from convinced to a place where she’d be quite so chummy with him. His act was good. She watched him with a knowing look, but decided not to verbalize the fact she was so onto him. Besides, if she let him believe that she believed him, there may be more of an advantage in it for her in the end than him. Perhaps he’d let things slip about the order. She wanted to laugh at the bullshit sincerity in his face, but she stopped herself, keeping a keen eye on the prize. “You must feel very proud, Sirius. To be given a second chance by him is... Somewhat unheard of. I hope you’ll cherish that well, stay humble. And remember that it was your blood that led you here to take this opportunity. It was only a matter of time, after all.” She smiled at him then. “You can hang around as many mudbloods and half breeds as you like, but there’s no running from who you are.” Bella circled her drink before finishing it off, nodding at his request before casually continuing. “You should be nervous. It’s never easy. The Dark Lord loves his petty torments.” She shrugged. “You may even be asked to murder a dear friend before all of us, and that in itself could be your entire initiation.” Bellatrix’s tongue moved along her teeth, and she grinned. “I don’t know if anyone’s ever truly prepared for something as gruesome as that.”
Sirius smiles, thin and stretched. It doesn’t reach his eyes. He knows what she is doing, and he has to be careful not to give her what she wants: a reason to doubt. “I am prepared... to do whatever the Dark Lord asks of me.” He raises his own glass to his lips and forces down firewhiskey and fury all in one go. His gaze stays trained on hers, even and calm. He wonders, briefly, if she can hear his heartbeat. She must, he thinks-- it’s deafening. Softer now: “As you taught me to do.” Appealing to her ego might be the safest road to take, Sirius figures. Playing student, playing humble, playing baby cousin-- his least favorite roles. Ah, well. The things we do for the greater good. He scans the hall for a bar to refill his drink, and smirks at the grandeur of it all. Figures, the Malfoys would have a goddamn chandelier. Fops. Sirius promised himself going in that he would keep his wits about him, never allow himself the dangerous vulnerability of being drunk around Death Eaters. Still, he thinks, one more won’t hurt. Just something to take the edge off. “Care for a refill, dear cousin? --And you can tell me about the ‘petty torments’ you were subjected to as your own initiation.”
❛ No risk, no reward. Isn’t that what you taught me? ❜
“And what a good student you are.” Beaming, Sirius raises a dungbomb into the air with a gloved hand, elbow cocked to throw. “On three?”
Bellatrix Black
There was.. No way this could truly be happening. And those who sat among them on that day who knew who Sirius Black was and everything he stood for knew that something was very wrong regarding the ordeal. Bellatrix and Lucius continually giving each other suspicious, knowing glances throughout the whole ceremony. The ceremony in which her own cousin, the bad seed, would be welcomed into their exclusive faith. Young Bellatrix had already spent much of the week trying to make sense of it all after receiving the news. It wasn’t something she could speak to her master about, nor would she ever dare attempt to change his mind. But..that didn’t negate the fact that this was the first time she was really questioning if his decisions and methods were always for the best. Bella hated feeling that way, even the smallest shred of doubt towards her master made her feel filthy and unworthy. It was out of her control. What she’d been doing to try to counter those doubtful feelings, was hold onto every amount of hope that her Lord simply thought the way she did, and was using Sirius. He couldn’t really trust him.. could he? Following Sirius’ entrance, there was a small celebration at the Malfoys’, freshly inhibited by the newly weds, Narcissa and Lucius. To the majority of their ever-growing society, Sirius was just another Black, and it was expected he’d follow in his family’s footsteps and soon join them as he was of age to do so. The others ate, drank and carried on. Blissfully unaware of what Bellatrix was grossly aware of. Perhaps she couldn’t speak about her feelings to the Dark Lord, or to anyone who might expose her uncertainty. Sirius could handle it. Bella scoped him out easily. He was hard to miss, being the same shaggy-haired kid he’d ever been, somehow managing to sport the regal Black essence and delinquency all at once. Though not even Bella could deny he’d grown to be quite handsome. Of course he had. As hard as it could be to believe most always, they shared blood. Bellatrix waited until he was alone, looking far too pleased with himself as he nursed his drink. “Congratulations. Fabulous party isn’t it? Cissy’s so tickled to call this place her own now.” The witch completely snuck up on him and took a swig of her own drink, which was straight vodka on the rocks and shrugged. “It’s beautiful, really.” There was a tense silence then, in which it seemed Sirius knew that she wasn’t quite finished yet. “What the in the holy fuck are you doing here?”
Sirius embraced her before she could say another word, some of her vodka splashing onto his suit jacket in the fumble. He paid it no mind. She was family, after all. “I’m so glad to see you, dear cousin.” He pulled back, gripping her by her shoulders and staring deep into her eyes. He tried to match her suspicion with enough sincerity to rival a roadside fortuneteller. He forced allowed tears to spring the edges of his eyelids. “I see now-- I see the greater plan.” Sirius looked at his feet and swallowed, as if overcome by shame, then back up to meet her stare. “Forgive me... for forgetting where I came from.” His voice did not break, but there was an undeniable waver. This was a delicate dance, and Sirius knew he had to be careful not to go too far. The allure of theatrical mockery was tempting, but the price would most assuredly be death. He had to seem earnest and repentant, but not --for even one second-- false. His life was riding on this performance, as was the success of this mission, and the intel to be gained by it. Sirius was amazed he had even gotten this far, if he were honest-- especially given the reputation of his circle of friends in recent years. He chalked it up to the mind-numbing effect of pureblood mania. This crowd of murderers and elitists were probably so elated to have their black sheep return to the flock that they were willing to set aside reasonable thought. That, or this was all an elaborate plot to torture and kill him. Either way, he was in too deep to back out now. Sirius was acutely aware that Bellatrix would be harder to convince than the others. The opposite paths they had taken had been no secret in the family, and Sirius could recount (with a grimace) how often his dear mother had directly compared him to the eldest cousin; she had heaped praises on Bellatrix for her obedience and devotion to the family name, then turned around and spat curses at her son for preferring the company of muggleborns and half-bloods. Sirius suppressed a smirk. If only, he thought, Mummy could see where I am now. “What do you say, Bella?” He released her shoulders, smoothing out his button down and doing to his best to look apprehensive-- not a difficult task, Sirius noted, as he registered the pounding in his ears as his own heartbeat. “Will you help me prepare for the ceremony? I am a bit nervous, I must admit.”
❝ Do we have to do this? Must we? ❞
He wiggles the cigarette between his teeth with his tongue. Back and forth. Unlike Dorcas to drag her feet on the way to battle– there never was a soldier happier to be knee-deep in blood and chaos. It occurs to him there must be something he doesn’t know. He takes a long drag and stares her down. ❛ Getting cold feet, ARE we ? ❜
“And when they ask us how dangerous it was, Oh, we’ll never tell them– –no, we’ll never tell them.” from Oh, What a Lovely War!
Wilson Lee Hayes. Priest. Healer. Soldier. Coward.
Original character based in 1920s and 1930s New York. Semi-selective. Written by Jules.
“Don’t you hold back.” // from james
Sirius flashes a grin, panting.“Well, I wouldn’t want to hurt you…” He flourishes his wand and a torrent of bats burst from the tip of his wand, screeching towards James’ face.The Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson today was non-verbal spells, and Sirius had bee-lined for his best friend before the professor had even finished the favored instruction, “find a partner.”
“Don’t worry, darling.” Sirius winks and gives his wand a teasing wiggle. “I’ll be gentle.”
“I could never define all that you are to me.”
Fingers on the dusty old piano keys pause mid-way through an alarmingly blues-y rendition of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. Sirius doesn’t look at his childhood friend on the sofa. The space between them in the Grimmauld Place sitting room might as well be miles.Barely a breath, and Sirius returns to the sonata, though it is infinitely softer now, like he was forced to learned to play it as a child in this very room: fading into the background, like rain on a window. “Would you try?” Sirius tries not let his sense of need leak into his request– he keeps his tone light, as if he’s asking for a cup of tea, and not a confirmation that he remains loved.
"Are you going to let me go?"
He almost smirks. ❝ What do you think? ❞
“And when they ask us how dangerous it was, Oh, we’ll never tell them– –no, we’ll never tell them.” from Oh, What a Lovely War!
Wilson Lee Hayes. Priest. Healer. Soldier. Coward.
Original character based in 1920s and 1930s New York. Semi-selective. Written by Jules.
“I’m not just one your many toys.”
His face falls.❝ It was a joke, Moony. ❞ Sirius sits back with a sharp exhale.He stares at his fingernails and picks at them, other arm crossed protectively over his chest. Avoiding eye contact, he flicks a speck of debris from his middle finger towards Remus, then steals a glance up, searching for some sign of playfulness from his friend. Upon finding none:
❝ Oh, come off it. ❞ He sounds annoyed, but Sirius can’t keep the silent plea of “please don’t be angry with me” far beneath the scowl.
// to the 29 people waiting for replies to age-old meme asks in my inbox-- thank you for your patience! I finally graduated so I have a bit more time to be on here. I will get through them as soon as I reasonably can. There are too many for me to do all of them, so if you remember sending something that you really were excited about, let me know and I’ll make sure I don’t skip that one. Muah