GRAH!!! - Tumblr Posts
WIP :33 —- I’m planning to make the rest of SEES soon so erm, keep an eye out ψ(｀∇´)ψ
Void state if you hear me void state if your hear me save me void state save me
“God knows that when you eat fruit from that tree, you will know things you have never known before.”
bads glowing eyes make him so much scarier. missa running for his life and sees this like yeah no wonder this guy is shitting himself
took a break from looking for that vod to remember how absolutely ecstatic I am for everything to come!
With the translations thingy being close to done and bad talking about making a more mature games channel, it's so much to look forward too! I'm so incredibly excited!
It's been way too hot lately, so I've been projecting my heat exhaustion onto the Phantom Thieves 🫠
(will probably draw more shenanigans with the other theives later)
I’m gonna murder the very dmure and l don’t know how I’m gonna survive school starting since I’ve been sleeping over 12 hours this whole summer man
I DID SOMETHING????
Troll thangs!! I love trolls. Idk why. Their so fun
Siren's Curse
Archive #10 | copyright to saturnfairycat
Author's Note: grah. Final poem from this series. Enjoy <3
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Siren's Curse
The feeling stills,
located deep in the heart and
washed away by emotions that don't depart.
Such betray hasn’t been seen
in years and years, oh it’s been centuries.
It’s not about creed
nor about faith,
but why does the siren continue to retaliate?
They don’t seek will or adoration,
but only sailors' shallow empty emotions.
Thus, greed is not a problem,
just a solution with an astrobleme.
The star-shaped wound within the heart
drowns out singing and works of art.
They focus on sole possessions, a measly painting
rather than just forever self-changing.
A place verses a person can be quite the personification
for a future naive adorer’s destination.
You compare a holy place
with a person that has no proper face.
A sailor counts
and so does a siren,
so don’t you dare postpone your responsibilities by naming it Psyren.
Yet you put them on top, as if an angel
told you that evil is an archangel.
Connections from siren to god
is a mockery for those that don’t have a facade.
Love yourself for what it’s worth–
not for the punishment of your birth.
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Let's
Archive #18 | copyright to saturnfairycat
Author's Note: hey, didn't I tell you to let go? (enjoyy)
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Let's
Paint me, Like I have never seen art before. If I didn't know what beauty was, How would you describe it to me? I don't know what love is, The affection is confusing. Language is spoken through the absorption of emotion. If it sinks into my skin, Would I make you uncomfortable? If it was lingering in the air, Would you hold your breath?
Thousands of thoughts and not one original, To my sane and reflection. Does our heart sync when I crush My feelings into crested moons? Is love pain? What is pain? Would you show me if I had asked for it? If hoarding became my plate, Would you still feed me?
Let me, Let me go, Let me love, Let me suffer, Let me love, Let me go, Let me.
Sweet nothings is my addiction, Would you whisper into my deaf ear? Sing me good night when I cry. "Just because" Do I crave you or the imagination Giving me what I want through magic and wishes. I want you to read my mind, Living in there gets tiring. I wish you knew what I want, Is it hard to want more than just the bare? Minimum? What is the bare minimum? Magic is not real and so is my perception. Language is my addiction. Would you let me love?
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Mágoa
Archive #29 | copyright to saturnfairycat
Author's note: can you believe I wrote this one on instagram? lmao being a writer is weird. enjoy!
Mágoa
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Our love was like home to me. It felt like a physical place for my mentality to lie.
On days where the world seemed colder, I seek warmth near the fireplace— cuddling up with blankets and hot cocoa. On days where it was spring, I would be dancing on the deck over seeing our garden— you always believed dancing is best in silence, the only sound was careless whispering to each other. Such sweet nothings filled our house with warmth and my heart with comfort.
Of course, it was never easy— the belongings in our home were the memories and bonds we have made and shared together. If it wasn't for me, the house would be bare to the bone— only left with the original wallpaper that you put up after breaking down my walls.
I know you tried, and you would visit the house as much as you could— but we both knew deep down it wasn't enough. Soon, it wasn't only the world that seemed colder; my breath is shaky as I puffed out frost from my lungs. The fireplace was no longer used, even when I tried multiple times with the damn lighter you gave me. Our garden started to wilt, and home felt more like a distant memory.
But the belongings were still here— and so I kept them near me at all times. Hugging them to my chest like it provided me with the warmth and care I needed, ignoring the distinct coolness that came off it every passing day.
'When will you return home?' was the question I used to always ponder. 'Am I bad at maintaining our home?' I scrunched up my face in frustration. It started raining a lot during that time, it was salty— and made the skin of my cheeks feel dry afterwards.
One day, it stopped raining. Warmth came back— tenfold— but the fireplace wasn't the source. The draping wallpaper had caught on fire, I guess I have sparked the lighter a little too close to the dangling pieces of wallpaper above the fireplace.
How did I not notice the fire? I don't know. I think I have always seen a spark, but mistook it for hope instead.
The fire consumed everything in the house, even climbing out onto the wilted garden.
I managed to get out… But barely. I was harmed, yes. But people came to my rescue— I was safe. I was hurt. I felt sick, our home was getting destroyed and I could only helplessly stand back and watch it burn.
The only two choices I had left were to either stand there and watch it burn, becoming homeless without shelter— or walk away, and build my own house. I reluctantly pulled away at my spot outside the burning house, turning my back and glancing behind me a couple of times.
And then that's where I saw you.
You stood at the entrance of the house. Your foot edging past the door and threatening to enter the burning building. You looked back at me, beckoning me to follow you.
I felt a million emotions. You probably didn't understand what I was feeling— the fear of false hope, the desperation for that second chance, the dread of seeing your face again. I thought back to our memories, and how a lot of them were destroyed by the fire— you didn't remember them at all.
You were giving me mixed emotions, you didn't look certain to be where you are, but you didn't move.
Was this the second chance I was so desperate for?
Do I follow you in?
You seem to be completely different and just the same as I once knew you all at the same time. You must have lost your way, your visible scars prove so. Maybe… I could help. I could help somehow, what can I salvage? Is that why you're wanting to enter the house? Are you wanting to retrieve the remaining belongings?
I rushed towards you, following you in. If I just save the things we both loved in that house, maybe we can restart as something new— maybe just a small vegetable garden, or an ash tree.
The smoke blinded me, I have lost you in the smoke. But I knew what to do, I didn't lose my way. I reached and grasped at what I could, wincing at the heat. When I neared a window, I saw your left hand holding one of our more newer possessions— while your right hand held our oldest possession. I was confused, you were outside— don't you want the others?
I guess you got cold feet, too scared of the flames to salvage the rest. You left, after I hesitantly stared back at you— your eyes begging me to follow you once more.
I was burning up, I was lost. What have I done? I have caused more pain for myself. I gave you a second chance and ran into a burning building to save the things I loved. But you didn't save me.
I escaped the collapsing house, leaving the belongings behind in the fire.
Without a single glance. I walked away from the burning house I once called our home.
A stargazer's lover
Archive #20 | copyright to saturnfairycat
Author's note: does it sound familiar?
A stargazer's lover
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Everyone loves differently,
from my way of devotion to your potential declaration of adoration.
In a way, we are all lovers, but just from different lengths and brightness.
Our constellations of mistakes and greatness form scars in our skin; you may find it repulsive,
but a stargazer out there would exchange their skin— a blank canvas that has not touched a single stroke of our paintbrushes, to trace their fingertips against our lines of stars.
We are lovers,
an ocean of sea pebbles that appear all the same at first glance, but compliment each other so well in our strack contrasts.
The lines on our skin,
the clearness of thought,
the dark that surrounds our huddled position in the universe.
It is lovers like us that shine in the darkness. We see light and colour, like a canvas of the brightest of skies.
But when it comes to ourselves, our beauty within shines from the silence, the chaos, and the void. Because we fill it with our beauty, our love.