book of tumblr

his words were the first to spark fires in all the places where my heart thought would never see light, and that’s why losing him has hurt so badly.
—  the better part of me - a.m
maybe i’ll die alone, i don’t know. or maybe i will meet the love of my life this next coming week. i still don’t know. but in the meantime, there are so many other things to life apart from love and heartbreak.
—  excessive romanticising of love can be fatal.
Meant to sparkle; lost in doubts.
—  how to sparkle? // Hina Syeda @abillionlittlethoughts

High Lady of the Night Court, Feyre Cursebreaker. The first High Lady of Prythian.
(Feyre Archeron from A Court Of Thorns And Roses Series by Sarah J Maas)

Please DO NOT repost or delete caption. Please do reblog if you like it! ^^ It really would mean a lot, specially since Tumblr pulled this whole “Best stuff first” BS.

(Check out my other artworks here)

Hey guys, here’s some more painted stuff! I made this one for a book-discord friend, the characters are from one of her fav books of the moment,  Rhapsodic (The Bargainer #1) by  Laura Thalassa. It wasn’t my cup of tea but I like making people happy + painting glowing skin was a nice exercise.

 I’m also trying out a new watermark, I want something that won’t be too fugly but that’ll stay visible since a lot of my stuff has been re-uploaded without permission or credit, sorry guys. :(

(Just as a headsup, the book is New Adult, not YA)

A Million Little Moments

It’s not about looking into someone’s eyes in the middle of a storm and them having the power to make it stop.

It’s about being able to look into someone’s eyes and know that their gaze will never waver whether the world is falling apart around you or you’re in the middle of the beach on a sunny day.

It’s about knowing that they can’t stop the tidal waves from coming- but that they’ll do everything they can to help you board up the windows for when they do.

It’s about facing monsters that you can’t see- that you didn’t even know existed, for someone that’s been facing them alone their whole life.

This is what Love is.

This is what Love should be.

A million little moments where someone stays.


“i will never pump out cliche bullshit for the sole purpose of going viral. my poetry is my soul and it’s not a goddamn playground for folly.”

- smspoetry

Here’s the thing about me: there’s not one bone in my body that knows the meaning of ‘casual,’ and I might as well cut it out of the dictionary and throw it away because it wouldn’t make my life any different. Pen up and pen down, my hands know that about me all too well, yet they convince me to keep trying to define it until I come to the only conclusion that I wasn’t ever meant to know the feeling of casual anything. Maybe it’s the way we saw the sky turn red together that one time last August and I’m still talking about it now in December; the way those seventeen messages that we exchanged till 2am were such a big deal because we surpassed small talk so easily; the way we started driving to the restaurant but turned around halfway because we ran out of time and I still had the best time because I got to sit next to you in the passenger seat; the way I have to keep telling myself that nothing’s changed between us because it hasn’t; and the way I wouldn’t have known the significance of any of these if I’d ever learned the meaning of 'casual.’
—  formality & feeling | e. c.
Time has stretched in your prolonged absence
and I have lost myself between the
ticks of the clock,
drumming in my mind to define and redefine
the boundaries of my confines by
reflecting off the walls that
once resounded your
                                                                  these halls
                                    have become so unfamiliar
         ever since the light of my eyes has left me;
I have long forgotten the light of the chandelier
and can only make my way by brushing
the back of my hand against
bricks that feel cold
and foreign;
I shout your name in order to fill the emptiness
             with anything other than silence;
                    clap my hands to find out
                                if I still exist,
but I only find myself mocked by these fingers
that have all but lost the sensation of touch
ever since I slashed my hands and cut
each nerve ending by smashing
the mirrors that witnessed
      my every
fiber;                                                   these hands
                                                       are not my own,
                                                 this face
                                           is not my own;
                                  all of me has been replaced
                            in a process so gradual I didn’t
           what was going on
until it was already too late.
Now I but blindly wander these halls
            in search of
                              my heart,
                                          my soul,
                                                   my undying love,                  
        only to realize they were never my own,
                  and that they in fact were
                             intended to be
Time has stretched in your prolonged absence
and all the while I have been turned
into an empty vessel –
                                                       a living husk
             that was never meant to outlive
                      the purpose of soul.
—  “One with the void”, a poem by M.A. Tempels © 2017
I think the most amazing thing is that he’s always there,
no matter how much he has to do,
no matter how many times I’ve told him to give up on me,
he’s always there,
waiting for me,
loving me,
and missing me