The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

—Sybill Trelawney

We are the music-makers,

And we are the dreamers of dreams,

Wandering by lone sea-breakers

And sitting by desolate streams;

World losers and world forsakers,

On whom the pale moon gleams:

Yet we are the movers and shakers

Of the world for ever, it seems.

- From Ode by Arthur O'Shaughnessy

IWishUCouldGoAway (Madeleine) (Moose)

Eeveelutions Are Awesome (Ava)

resilientsortofsoul (Alina)

burnt up feeling (Lizzie)

cheadsearc (Di)

extramundane epeolatry (Victoria)

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

- Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas

MeganCK

Da Girl There Reading

like firing (Dee)

LostItAtSorry (Alina)

Hail, Caesar. Those about to die salute you.

Those there are who may see past the veil on the world, through the shroud of falsehood laid on reality. Those there are who may take what they see, and make of it what they will, who may use the truth as they see fit, those who speak what they see, or at least how they see it.

Those there are who are writers, makers, dreamers. Who are creators.

Human.

We are all human.

Our race. Our religion. Our gender. Our sexuality. Our age. Our country of origin.

We all are human. We are all alive, living.

We all have feelings. Dreams. Thoughts. Plans. Loves.

We have the same biology, regardless of ideology. The world is broken, of course, but we, our souls, our minds, our beings, are not.

We are luminous beings. Not this crude matter. I look to a day when people will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.

Love.

Live.

Love life.

We are all human.

- Can We Not (by me, hehe)

A bit about me:

I'm a bisexual sixteen year old, incredibly attractive male without a dog or s/o. I have little life outside theater and school, although ukeleles and guitars fill the hole in my existence that would otherwise probably be stuffed with drugs. Because I'm a teenager. And we all just do drugs.

I only swear when it's fucking necessary.

I am busy creating an epic fantasy epic, which involves writing the history behind every country and indeed city in the world I've built (Kealrea, home to both a large collection of gods and a large variety of fine wines, visit sometime), and which hardly allows time for fanfics. If inspiration strikes unexpectedly I may write for the PJO fandom again; however, as none of my recent fics have been very well received and I live only for affirmation, I shall probably not. Unless someone asks nicely.

I love everyone except racists and such.

Winter is coming.