《The Poetry Collection》Open Ended
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I wish to leave my life
Open ended.
And they live a
Happily ever after
Doesn't quite
Ease me.
Born into luxury,
Beat by my own
Mother's nails.
Eaten out by
Empty in my base.
Roundhouse kick
In the teeth of
Ruby rhinestones.
Built by burning
Won't end in a smolder,
But rather a burst of
Flame
Still sparking.
Define the human
By death
By end.
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Transmigrated Author: The Quiet Plum
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Thorn | Neville Longbottom
Briar watched him with curiosity as he shuffled closer. He stumbled when he neared her but managed to steady himself before he fell. He slightly blushed and stuck out his hand with the dandelion in it. He murmured, "For you."She felt something odd happen in her chest. It felt like fluttering, she thought, but she tried to push these feelings away. She didn't want to acknowledge them. She didn't want them to be real. //Briar was just trying to survive her schooling at Hogwarts with the constant trouble her fellow students seemed to start, but the Ministry of Magic was determined to help each student find their soulmate through a series of letters and hints over their years at Hogwarts. Only problem? Briar didn't believe in love.SOULMATE AU // HP FANFICHighest Rankings:#1 in NevilleLongbottom#1 in Neville #1 in Soulmate#1 in SoulmateAU#1 in Slytherin#1 in Hogwarts#1 in DeathEaters#2 in HarryPotter#2 in Forbidden Love #3 in Gryffindor#6 in FanFiction/disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter characters or that universe. I only own Lorelei Jones and Briar Davies./[started - november 2020; finished - february 2021]
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The Dead Poets
The year is 1959, and for its very first time, Welton Academy Boarding School is now accepting female students. Violet Ross is not only one of those girls, but the only girl in the graduating class. She feels as though she must face her fears entirely alone, until she comes across a quirky group of boys. Also known as The Dead Poets. Violet soon finds herself becoming rather close with one in particular..."I'm not entirely sure I even knew what constituted 'love,' until I had met him. Now the mere thought of him made me ache to be with him, to look at him, to touch him. I couldn't quite put my feelings into words. Even as I try, few seem to suffice. An entire sea of ink could not adequately describe my feelings towards him. It was almost as if all the stars in the sky were condensed into a single, twinkling one. The only words I felt could convey some of what I felt for him, easily fell from my lips. ' I love you, too.'"
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