blue parchment

He’s used to getting tortured.

He’s used to getting picked up and thrown around, his shit stolen, his trailer messed up—poked and prodded and about ten million other things he could probably sue Jared over and take him for every penny he’s worth. But he won’t … because he’s used to it; and he knows it comes from a place of love.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to kick the guy’s tall, beefy ass every now and then.

He tries to find some peace in these moments when he knows he’s starting to fume—moments where he can skulk away and breathe deep; meditate and remember his times with the monks … they didn’t necessarily approve of grizzly murder; so Misha knows during times like these, it won’t do him any good to have such bloody thoughts in his head.

So he’ll close his eyes—inhale, exhale. He’ll think of trees and birds. He’ll imagine he’s running through the hills behind his home … he’ll hear Maison’s laugh, feel West’s hand on his shoulder as he bends down to pick him up. He’ll feel Vicki’s kiss on his temple, and he’ll relax.

But Misha will take some extra time after this, just to come back to the present—feel the stale air of the set hover around him and ground himself so he won’t start to miss home too much. That’s when he shoves his hands into the pockets of his overcoat, feeling his keys, his phone—his pages for the day’s scene … and something else.

Misha opens his eyes as he pulls out the oddly folded wad of paper. With a creased brow and curious eyes, he smooths out the small square of light blue parchment … one he recognizes as being from the notepad that sits atop Jensen’s desk. 

A whole new weight he didn’t even realize he was carrying is lifted from his canvas covered shoulders. The grin that splits his lips is immediate and his ribs can barely contain the steady growth of his heart.

Inside those expert folds, penned in tight, neat little lines, his friend had written:

“It is your patience, your strength and your ability to overcome that I admire most. You can do anything, Mish. You’re amazing.”

And just like that—everything is right in the world.

Folio from a Qur'an

Date: ca. 900-950 Geography: Made in Probably Tunisia, Qairawan Medium: Gold leaf, silver, and ink on parchment colored with indigo Dimensions: 11 ¼ x 14 ¾ in. (28.5 x 37.5 cm) Classification: Manuscripts and Illuminations Few objects demonstrate the inventiveness of early Islamic artists as elegantly as the now-dispersed Blue Qur’an. The manuscript reflects an awareness of Byzantine purple-dyed luxury manuscripts written in gold and silver. The later Muslim scribes’ innovations, however, are evident in the manuscript’s horizontal format, indigo-dyed blue parchment, and golden Kufic script. The combination gold and blue may have carried heavenly associations, as the same color scheme was used in the Qur’anic inscriptions in the Dome of the Rock dating to roughly the same period.

narrylime  asked:

“You punched me in the face while gesticulating wildly to a friend” AU narry lmao

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write a flower shop au for the longest time and I know Emily likes fics where someone other than Niall is pining

“I’m telling you,” Harry says wiping the dirt off his hands with the collar of his green apron, “he’s gorgeous.”

“I doubt he looks like a passion flower,” Zayn rolls his eyes moving an arranged bouquet from the back to the storefront window.

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