#silvertrionet

[macbcth]

lysandra ashryver for @danyka-fendyr

“You and I are nothing but  w i l d  beasts wearing  h u m a n  skins.”

[kayleighday]

100 lit color aesthetics

neville longbottom (harry potter) + pale green

[macbcth]

15. 02. 21. just a simple bujo spread this wk ft. some film notes. really hoping i’ll be able to get all my readings done this week bc phew it’s a lot! college being difficult? who coulda guessed

[macbcth]

✧ aisha’s 4k celebration ✧

i hit 4k a while back and i wanted to do something to celebrate!! thank you everyone for putting up with my multifandom mess of a blog! also wanted to turn all the listless free time on my hands into celebration and productivity... here we go !

rules:

mbf me

reblog/ like this post (both work)

send me an emoji from below + recommend me a book/ poem/ film if you want!

blacklist #aisha celebrates if you don’t want to see these

send me: (up to 2 only pls!!)

☾ + a character/ book/ ship for an edit (my fandoms)

☀ + 2 characters/ books/ ships for a mmc edit (my fandoms)

✿ + your name for a name playlist

♥ for a blograte (format)

[macbcth]

You left the taste of your lips in my mouth and the smell of your skin on my mattress, You left your words taped to these pens, I wonder if that’s why I can’t stop writing about you- This pen still remembers your hands on its body, The ink remembers your fingers, The cap your touch, No, those are not the same things.

Your words have bled into the ink, And now it’s all spilling, Slowly.

You left your music in my playlists- Sent a cutter a song about addiction, asshole, But my nightmares weren’t having nightmares anymore, They were just sad, the poor things, The monsters and the teeth that I curated under my bed, They were all covered in tears, they wouldn’t stop crying.

No, the floodwater wasn’t clear, but it also wasn’t mud, It was the inky red of spilled blood, Do you know how many bloodstains I’ve had to clean up off my bedroom floor? Do you even care?

I’m setting fire to my head now, Or maybe it was my pillows I set fire to, I just didn’t want them to smell like you. And now I’ve spent more money on condoms and alcohol, And concealer to hide hickeys, Than any sixteen year old should have the right to- No, I don’t have the best coping mechanisms, but that’s something you already knew. At least you kissed your knuckles before splitting my heart in two, At least you got that right.

Is this second-person point of view accusatory enough for you? You, you, you, it’s all you. Am I getting under your skin yet? Am I still there? Did I ever leave? Or do you still read our conversations from time to time, Look for me in the hallway and canteen lines, Or break a little when you see me smile? Catch my eye, and see our history play out in double time?

I can’t wait to get drunk this weekend and have an excuse to message you again, See, I don’t deserve you in sunlight, Daytime sheds too much light on my sins, And I think you have a girlfriend now, not that it matters- No, I already loved you in guilt, In that secret space between Alcohol and 2AM, And old habits are hard to break.

But no, I don’t quite love you, No, I don’t quite miss you, Now you’re just a bad habit- You’re just a scratch I can’t quite itch, An ache, burrowed in some bone the doctors can’t reach, A piece of fat dissolving in the bloodstream.  There, I’ve said it now. There’s nothing left in these pens now, I can throw them away now, I’ve sucked them all dry, the ink’s out.

- aisha s. | half lovesong, half confession (pt ii)

[macbcth]

i. I grew intimate with insanity halfway through the summer, Or perhaps it was just the first time I realised I’d gone mad: Roses curled around my arms, thorns digging, and Sleepless nights came in the strangest shades of red.

ii. The therapist diagnosed me with monosyllabic Sad: Your life is too short for you to want to be dead. I said, you’re supposed to be helping my brother. She nodded, then sighed, then said, His life is long enough for him to want to be dead.

So I nodded, shook my head, and again she sighed: Write a bucket list. Let it give you hope for the future, Nurture something positive in your mind, Keep a journal with every shade the colour of the sky.

iii. And I thought that sounded beautifully poetic, So I did. And it was filled with ballerinas and books, and smoke the colour of dreams. It was filled with London and Paris, And St. Mark's Square in Venice.

It was filled with a lover whose touch reminded me of the ocean, who captured fireflies and my imagination. It had rekindled friendships and kisses that taste like fresh rain.

It was ink and paper and pen, with something Akin to magic captured in such trivialities- It lifted me up. It taught me to write again.

iv. So based on a conversation with an old romance- a rekindled friendship, you could say or perhaps, most would call it a mistake- I took to ink and paper and pen and let words flow Of the summer I went insane.

- aisha s. | a bucket list, or something along those lines

[macbcth]

literature aesthetics: regulus black for @r-egulus

I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret.

[macbcth]

literature aesthetics: ginny weasley for @caarstairs

“The thing about growing up with Fred and George," said Ginny thoughtfully, "is that you sort of start thinking anything's possible if you've got enough nerve.”