#extradirty
blake kathryn
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Kiana Khansmith
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DEAR READER
izzy's playlists!
dirt enthusiast
ojovivo
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Three Goblin Art
★
Monterey Bay Aquarium
sheepfilms
noise dept.
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wallacepolsom
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Jules of Nature
seen from United States
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seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Bolivia
seen from Philippines
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Netherlands
seen from Canada
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@vestalee
“You’ve got the words to change a nation But you’re biting your tongue You’ve spent a life time stuck in silence Afraid you’ll say something wrong If no one ever hears it how we gonna learn your song? So come, on come on Come on, come on You’ve got a heart as loud as lions So why let your voice be tamed? Baby we’re a little different There’s no need to be ashamed You’ve got the light to fight the shadows So stop hiding it away Come on, Come on”
Life is not kind. But I am, and that makes life so much more complicated.
ke-ndallgrace (via wnq-writers)
veelablck:
Attention had long been given to the book and parchment on her desk with no desire to watch the other students squirm their way out of a partnership with her, but it wasn’t until the only person she herself would have preferred to avoid spoke up towards her. Even if most would find Vesta to be rather beautiful in her own right, Walburga refused such a thought to pass and wrote her off as plain. It became apparent that her looks were being examined by the way she took her time looking up and down the other until eyes settled on the worn book placed close to her own.
“ Filth, “ she sputtered beneath her breath with no desire to look at the other for another moment. Her chin raised with face turning in her direction, but her eyes never left the parchment that she was still working on. “ Conversation is something that is not required of either, so I would prefer to have a class filled with silence. “ A hard cut towards the apple made an even harder laugh fall from her lips with a challenging glance up. “ Would you not prefer to practice on each other? I find that is the best method to take in the class. “
Only Walburga could make such a request seem plausible given who she truly was as a person. It would likely get accepted or denied in a quick manner depending on the person it was addressed to, but there was hope that Vesta would meet her challenge and continue on with their partnership. If not, the Slytherin would have to find a way to escape such child’s play with the object of an apple and find something a bit more challenging to work against. Her mind paused that the concept of using her own soft tones and vexing touch to convince the girl to take her up on the offer, but she wanted more than anything for Vesta to choose it from her own free will.
“ Are you up for such a challenge, Vesta Lee? Do you tremble at the thought of such a partnership, or do you rise to face fate head on? “ Her dark locks falling to one side with her fingers soon tapping a soothing rhythm on the table as the other pairings had already dove quickly into their own work with much notice being thrown their way again.
WALBURGA EARNED HERSELF A BLANK LOOK in return, and it was a strange sight on Vesta who always kept that mild flash of a smile on hand. Without it she seemed alien if not necessarily empty, as though some vital piece of the puzzle disappeared to Ibiza for the season. Something sparked, but more interest than smile, more wry consideration which refused to twist her mouth too much effort and instead settled on a mindful blink, the barest tilt of her head.
" A challenge from you doesn't have any meaning. "
Flat, flat, flat. Every word was disinterested observation, recited like weather report. Though this may've been the moment she'd been prodding for talk, she was interested in what the Black girl had to say even when she did not agree with it Vesta sidestepped anything which felt pointless on the best of days.
" You will remain unaltered by the contention and so would I, I've put no stock in your good opinion, and your tendency towards ...excessiveness....means such a competition is almost sure to draw the professor's ire. Where then is the gain in it? Educative, maybe, if you had something to teach me, but I've no PROOF that you do. "
She could have left it there. With her laundry list of reasons why this was invitation with no ascribed value. A pointless investment with low rate of returns. Instead, the apple again. Bright red ripe without blemish and adorned with a leaf blooming from the sliver of a stem still attached. She set it at the edge of Walburga's stack of text books, the informal border between them. Her own scarlet glove thrown down in counter.
" Unless you'd care to first offer evidence of your acumen. "
DATE : September 6th 1944 LOCATION : The Halls TIME : 7:20 PM STATUS : Closed to @vestalee
“You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts.”
Kharmali supposed that there were worse things than spending a majority of her time at the Hogwarts library — a rendezvous with the Giant Squid at the Black Lake certainly still took first place —and her first week appeared to be going rather smoothly (save the initial chaos).
She found that being in Hogwarts allowed her to believe her façade — that she actually believed that insanity which wrecked the hall of her home country was all but nonexistent. She hadn’t seen Vesta very often despite the fact that they both found comfort within the walls of the library and wondered if her heart had already begun to long for company. Perhaps it was simply that there was much on her mind and she had few people she could truly speak to. She longed for release.
Back home, she had always found it easier to spend time alone since all her female cousins ever wanted to do was to discuss makeup and, of course, boys. It wasn’t that Kharmali didn’t enjoy girl talk but she did prefer substantial conversation over mere vapid gossip. Vesta, however, was different— they both were passionate about learning and shared a common goal and interests, both harboring a penchant for Charms while simultaneously excelling at Potions.
It had also helped that she never questioned her too deeply about her past, respecting each other’s privacy even though she knew that Vesta did want to know more about her.
She knew that it probably wasn’t wise to enter the friendships as freely as she had but she couldn’t help it — she was lonely. So as she stepped out of the library and spotted the girl, it felt anything but unnatural to approach her.
“It’s been a while,” she offered with the slightest of smiles. “Care to walk with me?”
UNLIKE KHARMALI, VESTA HAD NEVER thought too hard about their friendship. It had felt to her like a natural mechanism of their proximity, their predilection, their shared planned trajectory. She had taken up literal and proverbial space beside the other girl as though it were natural to do so and had not stopped to consider the implications of competition inherent in their mutual ambition until long after the fact; long after she had unconsciously, unintentionally edged in past one girl's wary guards.
Their head girl may be cool and seemingly-disaffected but Vesta speaks a stoic's language with the fluency of one for whom it is family's native language. Sharp eyes do not necessarily mean a hard heart and Vesta likes Kharmali's straightforward stare, like her dusky hands smudged with the ink of someone who words hard and often.
So when the Hufflepuff emerged from the Library just as Vesta's making circuit past it's massive double doors she slowed to a halt almost instinctual, hovers in anticipation of a greeting and is not disappointed. It has been a while, she's right, and the answering smile Vesta gives is 'hello' and 'happy to see you' and 'how have you been' rolled up into the quiet warm upturn of her mouth's edges.
At home she forgets, sometimes, the pleasure of the relationships she's build here. Not the reality of them of course, but the feeling. The way it's hard to recall summer sunshine in the dead of winter. Kharmali moved closer and Vesta reached out, fingers tips skimming a lock of DARK hair that had fallen across the other girl's forehead and brushed it back. Tiny involuntary minutia of affection. Her smile brightens a touch at the invitation.
" Yes please. " Books in hand shifted, back between both palms as her fingers drop away from her friend’s forehead. “ How are you? “
[ personalities based on the days of the week ] – monday people have some of the most loving personality traits. you are family-oriented, very creative but like to keep those ideas to yourself, and tend to be a very sly negotiator when it comes to making sure that everyone is treated equally.You are a person who strives for success and will assume the role of leadership if you have to.
It's just six words
six word drabble KHARMALI BHATIA
sometimes, her war’s against own entropysometimes, sentiment mellows instinctive defense mechanismssometimes, her smile flickers to lifelike a candle cupped in hand
it's just six words!
six word drabble DRUELLA ROSIER
like the sun just behind horizon-linethey spill into each other’s livesgilded light, illumination, a new persepective
it's just six words
six word drabble LUCRETIA BLACK
she’s one of those cautious mothsmoon pale, dark eyed, fragile wingscraves the burn, but skirts ignition
Send 'It's just six words' for a six word story between your muse and mine
Specify a prompt or a different muse instead, if you like.
DATE & TIME: September 7th, Dinner Time LOCATION: Dead end landing on the Hogwarts Stairways STATUS: Closed @abraxasmlfoy
“ it’s something of a cliché to say that we all think we’re monsters. “
"MMM. " A SMALL IM LISTENING HUM FROM BETWEEN CLOSED LIPS as she looked up from seated spot with marble cold against the back of her legs and thinks, he's too close to the edge.
A pair of lamps bracketed either side of their elevated platform, casting an smokey orange glow that melting along the segmented balustrade and described Abraxas Malfoy's hair like gilding as he leaned out into the empty air. Below them the labyrinthine mechanisms of Hogwarts' stairways continued their leisurely rotations. None of which seemed to be any rush to intersect with the landing they'd been stranded atop after one such set had altered it's trajectory, mid-ascent and then swung just as abruptly away. Them trapped, then, this unlikely chiaroscuro of a duo. A tapestry hiding solid brick at their backs, an open drop to the floors below at the front, and time stretched out between. Ticking out while Vesta cants her head and considers his remark. About clichés. About monsters.
She thought first of toothsome things not fanged sharp edged smiles in aristocratic faces. She thought of massive tactile appendages crushing medieval stone. She thought of the bodies of merpeople washed ashore; water bloated corpses with slack jawed mouths open while the frothing surf rushed in and in a n d i n . She closed her eyes and for a moment thinks of a flowing current of people striding indifferently past a grimy doorway from which issues a rattling cough.
It all seems relative to her and so she, small philosopher, elbowed back out of her own head. Simpler to offer Gallic shrug, to string the long fingers of one hand through thick dark hair, to look up at the boy standing across from her and search for some thin thread of understanding. Vesta appreciated the hum and purr of language, but bodies could be just as eloquent in the turn of a palm, the angle of one's jaw, the 'I don't know, you know?' rise and fall of shoulder. Vesta communicating as casual as she would with Kharmali or Irma.
" What's a MONSTER? "
DATE & TIME: September 5th, Early Evening LOCATION: Gryffindor Common Room STATUS: Closed @bellaviechambers
“ i fear your sorrows make your tongue grow wild.“
A FLICKER OF A SMILE PAINTS HER FACE in equal part self aimed amusement and apology in response to a subtle point well made. Her answer to Bellavie's greeting 'how are you?' was vague, insufficient. 'A little sad,' said with eyes on the common room windows as they brimmed with twilight's cooling purple glow and a look of solemn distraction about her, as though her thoughts were butterfly pinned to board: held down, but still struggling. In all honesty she had not stopped to think her answer would brook concern, or that Bellavie might slide into the seat next to her and prod gently ( rightly ) for further disclosure.
It should have would have had this been further into the term and not her brand new returned to Life Here At Hogwarts, so very different an environment than Life Out In the World. Vesta who adapts herself to surroundings the way a flower might follow the movements of the sun. Vesta the aural polyglot, who had spent a lifetime building a SILENT language for a household where affection existed but conversations sometimes felt verboten. It always takes her a few days to shake off the tendency towards taciturn; to reacquaint herself with sentences strung long with words like a string of pearls. Precious. Vesta tipped her head against the wings of her chair and chose hers with all the care of a jeweler picking gemstones.
" It's a bit homesickness, a bit worry. Plus sunsets always just make me feel a tetch maudlin. " She doesn’t ignore melancholy when it rears its head but it’s never allowed to last for long. These were all transient things that would pass like ships into dark and Vesta smiled her warm ember of a smile which says ‘don’t worry about me’ and ‘all’s well here’.
" How are you? "
September 1, 2016. I found some very lovely old books. Some for reading, others just to look in and others again for creative projects!
dammmmit
anne carson sentence starters.
quotes are all taken from various poems and essays by the queen of aesthetes, anne carson. feel free to change pronouns/add things/etc if needed.
‘ you are not a god. ’
‘ we begin in the dark and birth is the death of us. ’
‘ now you’ve crowned yourself one final perfect time. ’
‘ [ name ] was a monster. everything about him was red. ’
‘ what are we made of but hunger and rage? ’
‘ i finally decided that understanding isn’t what grief is about. ’
‘ honey is the sleep of the just. ’
‘ it is perilous to live past the end of your myth. ’
‘ you remember too much. ’
‘ when i desire you a part of me is gone. ’
‘ humans in love are terrible. ’
‘ under the seams runs the pain. ’
‘ men know almost nothing about desire. ’
‘ sex is a substitute, like money or language. ’
‘ what is the holiness of conversation? ’
‘ —you burn me. ’
‘ i ask this one thing: let me go mad in my own way. ’
‘ sometimes i just want to stop seeing. ’
‘ we’re all mortal, you know. ’
‘ i am the shape you made me. filth teaches filth. ’
‘ why does tragedy exist? ’
‘ you’re a beauty. ’
‘ madness and witchery are conditions commonly associated with the female voice. ’
‘ it made me merciless. ’
‘ desire is no light thing. ’
‘ i do not exist. there is nothing left. ’
‘ gods are stubborn. so am i. ’
‘ we had been seduced into thinking that we were immortal. ’
‘ i am someone who did not die when i should have died. ’
‘ why are you so in love with things unbearable? ’
‘ everything can collapse. ’
‘ someone will remember us. even in another time. ’
‘ my mind is burning. ’
‘ each night, about this time, he puts on sadness like a garment and goes on writing. ’
‘ love does not make me gentle or kind. ’
‘ i can give you reasons not do die. ’
‘ passivity is killing her. ’
‘ they are victims of love, many of them. ’
‘ he is a young god. ’
‘ you touch my soul, you pain my mind. ’
‘ it’s something of a cliché to say that we all think we’re monsters. ’
‘ i fear your sorrows make your tongue grow wild. ’
‘ it’s what they call ‘ecstasy’. ’
‘ a man who can’t die is no tragic hero. ’
‘ i want everything. ’
‘ it was like a beautiful dance where your partner turns and stabs you to death. ’
‘ to survive you need an edge. ’
‘ girls are cruelest to themselves. ’
‘ we are dust. ’
bonus! further quotations from award-winning poet and author anne carson:
‘ i am a philosopher of sandwiches. ’
‘ pilgrims were people glad to take off their clothing, which was on fire. ’
‘ english is a bitch. ’
‘ i wish i were two dogs. then i could play with me. ’
Date — 4 September 1944 Location — Charms Class Time — 1:00PM Status — Closed to @vestalee
Class should not have started so suddenly after such events that happened in the last few days. Walburga swore that her father would hear the first thing about being force into coursework so soon, annoyed by the constant push to further her education when her lungs still burned from the water intake. She chose the first seat that would position her the furthest from anyone that she deemed unworthy or not up to par with her own talents in the class. It was moments into the professor’s introduction that she interrupted with a cool tone and heavy gaze towards a few in the class.
“ Professor, I am unsure if some of those in the class will be able to keep up with the coursework with their— “ Her hand did a small gesture in the air before directing her gaze across the room towards Vesta. “ —lack of access to proper resources. “ The professor did not entertain the suggestion as he continued on with the course introduction before advising the students to pair up for the remainder of the class to practice certain charms from the previous year.
Walburga remained seated with no one holding the same caliber as herself, crossing a single leg over other with a quick browse through her charms book. She could spend hours in her own secluded section of the classroom, and she would have been fine until the professor cleared his throat with a directional pull towards the students that were still left without a partner. Her gaze barely fell onto the small handful of students before glancing back towards her book.
“ Professor, once more — I doubt any of them would be able to keep up with me. Any of them are more than welcome to place themselves in a challenge, but I fear that it would only increase their self-hatred and cause more self-pity. They already have enough of that, do you not agree? “
There is a momentary anger that takes hold of the professor before sternly pointing towards the group of students unassigned once again. “ Choose a partner, Miss Black. No further discussion. “ The most dramatic roll of her eye sends herself in further annoyance of the situation before tapping the place beside her without any direction towards those unassigned. Any of them are welcome to take a place beside her, but she refuses to address any of them properly.
SHE APPRECIATED THE RAPID RETURN TO NORMALCY; the keeping of rhythms as regular as the slinging skies above, routine as orderly as that of stone buildings and regiments. The reminder that Hogwarts was solid foundations for all to lean in on that it would take more than this to disrupt it's fundamental mechanism. A few hours past catastrophe and its class, coursework, collaborations all as usual and Vesta smiled into the imposition of order the way another student my sigh.
She had paired off already. Rapidly. Her partner was a serious faced half-blood boy named Ephraim, who had a dearth of interest in the subject matter but deft hands and enough familiarity that the decision to work together had been an unspoken agreement. Equally unspoken was the resignation with which they watched the solitary stragglers find mates of their own with a haste encouraged by the alternative option sitting reluctant and sour tempered in her isolationist corner.
Like Hogwarts, Walburga Black, it seemed, remained unaltered. Still darkly lovely and dealing out remarks like broken glass. Walburga whose tongue and eyes always found opportunity to throw sharp darts in Vesta direction.
The number of unpaired students was whittling down fast, till it looked like the only one left would be a soft-spoken muggleborn girl who looked near to tears at the turn out. The look she slid sidelong at Ephraim was matched mirror with resignation and he raised a fist in mute invitation to rock-paper-scissors it out for who would be firing squad fodder. Vesta was equally silent in her lip twitch gallows humor, before she surrendered with opposition and swept a stack of books ( WORN like every other thing she owned ) into the crook of her arm.
En route, Vesta nudged the quaking girl towards Ephraim ( a tiny touch to the hip, a tilt of her head to say safe harbors that way ) and then took the vacant seat next Walburga.
" I have an apple we can practice on. "
🍷 🍹 im greedy
send me 🍷 for an aesthetic of our muses
yellow-toned evenings where they study in comfortable silence; red hues surround them while they laugh and plot happy nothings; they share a heavy glance while someone else chatters carefree about their own parents; fiora seems to always know when the clock strikes 11:11 and to remind everyone else to make one, too; a shooting star streaks across a clear sky, and fiora’s eyes light up as she asks if anyone saw it; fiora reaches for vesta’s hand, holding it tight while she smiles at her and takes off skipping towards their next blessed day.
send me 🍹 for a short fanfic/headcanon of our muses
I would say that Fiora is generally very open about her concerns and fears with other people. If it’s appropriate to do so, she’s never the one to have any problem sharing—except about her parents. Very few people are privy to know just how much her worries about them eat away at Fiora, and Vesta is firmly entrenched in that group. Vesta knows that Fiora’s pillows, plump and soft as they always appear, have many nights become damp with tears and have absorbed the sound of a number of hushed sobs. Fear plagues Fiora like little else, and it is a momentous relief to have someone like Vesta to confide that which weighs so heavily upon her usually airborne heart.
