@/girlglimmer (x) // @/christmas-winter (x) // Fireflies - Suzanne Siegel // “orange And Blue” -

After listening to episode 17 of TMP, I had to do something with that statement.

aha ha ha a (,: ouch

Hehe blazin’ balls

Holy shit these are so cool!!!!!

You are. My friend

Today you found out that I can write poetry AND that I study English. A little Macbeth-themed thingy inspired by @two-bees-poetry

Fan fact: because English is not my native language I had to write both columns in the same time, otherwise I won't be able to stick my grammar together.

Viktor Hargreeves' entire life was dictated through that rumor and that fact lives in my brain the way a monkey lives in any enclosed space

Like, "you think you're just ordinary" is such a broad order to follow! Not only does it stop him from realizing he had powers, but it also stops him from thinking there's anything even conceptually unique about him.

It stopped him from seeing himself as talented with the violin because he has an ordinary level of skill in it. He can't be into girls because that's considered abnormal in society. He can't be trans because he's just ordinary.

Every season is him breaking out of the rumor's hold, little by little. Realizing things about him that had been kept on chains for years.

The Boy in There

Short, fluffy, tousled hair. A deep, velvet voice that could make anyone swoon. A wide smile that just screams comfort and confidence, others would smile just because he was. He would play football with the other lads, scoring that winning goal; he would deliver a soliloquy so moving that everyone would be reaching for some tissues to wipe away the tears. He would be a shoulder to cry on, a friend to everyone, he would always say the right thing and make everything better- his hugs would bring anyone back down to earth. He wouldn’t be afraid of dancing and singing, he is comfortable in himself. He isn’t afraid of the sound of his own voice, he wouldn’t be afraid of his voice sounding fifty pitches higher than it should be. Flat chested, lean. He works out at the local gym, where everyone can see him and no one judges him. I see him in there sometimes, just out of reach, a blurry outline through a piece of glass as I walk past. I know he’s in there.

He’s the life of the party, scouring the walls for the waiting flowers, he knows what it's like to try and bloom without enough light. He is the one to go to for a walk along the beach as the sun sets on the horizon. Wearing a loose t-shirt that somehow hides nothing, his hands taking shelter against the cold in his trouser pockets as the wind blows aggressively, tensing his arms and flexing his muscles. He stands with a straight posture, unafraid of his chest. He isn’t afraid to clear his throat, his Adam’s apple flexing as he does so. I’m jealous of him. No matter how much I think of him, or how I think I see him in the glass, he isn’t out here. I know he’s in there.

He knows how to make his way in the world, he breathes confidence. He doesn’t need to feel meek when asking someone for help, he just knows they’ll answer. He doesn’t always excel at what he does but he greets failure as a friend and takes them on a walk, building the paths to somewhere better than before. He greets everyday in life with a flourish of grace and a smile warm enough to let you know it's okay, the world is better because he is here. He knows the way to sincerity and treats you with it, no matter the circumstances because he doesn’t want you to feel unwanted. I know he’s in there.

I know he’s in there because he is me. I am the boy in there.

Nights in this secluded southern European village

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