burnt-paper

to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you’ve held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.
—  Ellen Bass, ‘The Thing Is’

The Paper Bag Princess by Robert Munsch 

published: May 1, 1980

““Elizabeth was a beautiful princess. She lived in a castle and had expensive princess clothes. She was going to marry a prince named Ronald.

Unfortunately, a dragon smashed her castle, burned all her clothes with his fiery breath, and carried off Prince Ronald.

Elizabeth decided to chase the dragon and get Ronald back. She looked everywhere for something to wear, but the only thing she could find that was not burnt was a paper bag. So she put on the paper bag and followed the dragon. He was easy to follow, because he left a trail of burnt forests and horses’ bones.

Finally, Elizabeth came to a cave with a large door that had a huge knocker on it. She took hold of the knocker and banged on the door. The dragon stuck his nose out of the door and said, “Well, a princess! I love to eat princesses, but I have already eaten a whole castle today. I am a very busy dragon. Come back tomorrow.” He slammed the door so fast that Elizabeth almost got her nose caught.

Elizabeth grabbed the knocker and banged on the door again. The dragon stuck his nose out of the door and said, “Go away. I love to eat princesses, but I have already eaten a whole castle today. I am a very busy dragon. Come back tomorrow.” “Wait,” shouted Elizabeth. “Is it true that you are the smartest and fiercest dragon in the whole world?” “Yes,” said the dragon.

“Is it true,” said Elizabeth, “that you can burn up ten forests with your fiery breath?” “Oh, yes,” said the dragon, and he took a huge, deep breath and breathed out so much fire that he burnt up fifty forests.

“Fantastic,” said Elizabeth, and the dragon took another huge breath and breathed out so much fire that he burnt up one hundred forests. “Magnificent,” said Elizabeth, and the dragon took another huge breath, but this time nothing came out. The dragon didn’t even have enough fire left to cook a meatball.

Elizabeth said, “Dragon, is it true that you can fly around the world in just ten seconds?” “Why, yes,” said the dragon, and jumped up and flew all the way around the world in just ten seconds. He was very tired when he got back, but Elizabeth shouted, “Fantastic, do it again!”

So the dragon jumped up and flew around the whole world in just twenty seconds. When he got back he was too tired to talk, and he lay down and went straight to sleep.

Elizabeth whispered, very softly, “Hey, dragon.” The dragon didn’t move at all. She lifted up the dragon’s ear and put her head right inside. She shouted as loud as she could, “Hey dragon!” The dragon was so tired he didn’t even move.

Elizabeth walked right over the dragon and opened the door to the cave. There was Prince Ronald. He looked at her and said, “Elizabeth, you are a mess! You smell like ashes, your hair is all tangled and you are wearing a dirty old paper bag. Come back when you are dressed like a real princess.”

“Ronald,” said Elizabeth, “your clothes are really pretty and your hair is very neat. You look like a real prince, but you are a bum.”

They didn’t get married after all.””

Slytherin Things (Part 10)

Black and white photography, old cameras, scenic shots, unused film in boxes everywhere, old parchment, feather quills, fineliners, burning the edges of paper for fun, watercolour pencils, minimalist designs in the corners of schoolwork, Shakespeare references, beautifully designed labels on potions, decorative envelopes, the scent of fresh ink…

“On the sabbath we skipped church and you sat on the couch taking swills of holy water from a vodka bottle. You said God didn’t care for the container and I shouldn’t either.

It took three Sundays but I found faith in your sweaty hands that would clasp me like a prayer between palms kneeled before the alter after a bottle of communion and a promise confession would clear my name. Afterwards you swore the wine shades staining my skin were the Devil’s struggle from you gracing my skin with the hands of God. And I believed you.

After four months His name no longer burned you in blasphemy and sacrilege would slip my lips after an inhale of burnt bible paper and a swallow of sin sticky on my cheek. I repented to the toilet bowl while you chainsmoked luckies out the bathroom window and didn’t question your lack of prayer over dry toast and oatmeal.

One year in and the rip in my best church dress is nothing compared to the Devil’s wrath manifesting in your rage and lingering in lamb’s blood stains on my Wednesday stockings. I am crucified.

In two years I am able to walk into a church and taste blood as wine on my tongue rather than my own as condemnation. They say forgiveness is close to godliness so I bow my head to forgive the sins that dragged me past each level of my own personal hell. I ask to forgive even the wolf in sheep’s clothing that ripped each commandment from my rib and promised me atonement for each mortal sin. But for playing the Devil’s advocate, and each moment as the wolf’s fool, and every equivocate I let slip my judgement,”

—  please god help me to forgive myself.

“This plant is thriving and healthy”

This turned out so awesome. To be written on the pot the plant is kept in, drawn on paper and burnt for the ashes to be mixed in the soil, or to let sit in water and charge it and then used to water the plant. If you feel another method would be more beneficial, feel free to use it instead :)

*I am currently NOT taking any sigil requests, please do not send me any asks requesting a new sigil, thank you!*

Adrien the Civilian

For ML Angst Week of @miraculous-weeks

Day 1: Mistakes/Aftermath


It’s my first time doing something like this so… Enjoy the angst? It’s 3000 words and only lightly edited so I put a read more ok im sorry

Warning: Character death, heavy angst. You’ve been warned.

Edit: I just realized I also hit the other day’s prompts? I—

AO3 link


It wasn’t supposed to happen that way.

It was just a simple akuma attack. Just like any other.

The Baker, he was simply called, had the ability to turn everything into bread. He was a giant, however, easily towering halfway over Collège Françoise Dupont, and he wielded a giant rolling pin that could flatten everything in his path. The plan was simple—Ladybug would use her Lucky Charm, a bag of flour, and Chat Noir would come in and destroy the giant rolling pin with his Cataclysm. It wasn’t like they could just break that thing over their knees and call it a day, after all.

With their usual team effort, they had managed to blind The Baker with the flour and trip him with Ladybug’s string. She then hollered at him to use Cataclysm on the akuma’s rolling pin.

“Now!” she’d shouted, urgently.

He only did as he was told.

Keep reading

One Mississipi

(Request: hello 🙋🏽 can I request an imagine based on “One Mississippi” by Zara Larsson)

Note: Enjoy!

Warning: angst, swearing, getting drunk and high, smut!
—————————————————————————————————-

One Mississippi, you’re here
Lovin’ me with your whole heart
And two Mississippi, we scream
To watch each other fall apart
Three Mississippi, you’re gone
Sayin’ that you’re done, you don’t want it no more
And four Mississippi, you’re home
Like nothin’ ever happened at all

You were woken from your slumber by a hand roaming your body. You knew who it was immediately, Daryl. He had spent another night out with his brother, getting drunk and high and now at 4am he thinks it’s okay to wake you up. His lips found the soft skin at your neck as he lightly bit at it.

“Daryl” you said, your eyes still closed as you started to move his hand away.

“Hey baby” he whispered. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as his lips pressed against yours. As much as you wanted to push him away and tell him to leave, your body was melting under his touch. But then something clicked inside of you and you pushed him back.

“What the fuck (y/n)?”

“It’s four in the morning Daryl! I don’t wanna make out or fuck, I just wanna sleep. Maybe if you stop getting wasted every night we could have a decent relationship!” you said, angrily pulling the covers over your shoulder and leaning your head on the pillow.

“Maybe if you weren’t boring and came out with me we’d have some fun together!” he snapped back. You sat up and threw your pillow at him.

“Fun doesn’t mean going out and losing contact with your surroundings because you’re so high and drunk! If you wanna carry on going down the destructive path with your brother, then be my guest!”

“Why are you always mouthin’ off my brother too? What’s he ever done to you huh?”

“It’s not what he’s done to me, it’s you! He’s ruining you and us and you can’t even see it!”

“Screw this!” Daryl waved his hands in the air and got up from the bed. “We’re done, I don’t want this no more” he said, leaving your room as your anger bubbled inside of you. You angrily walked over to your bathroom and splashed some water on your face, trying to cool yourself down. You dried your face and looked in the mirror, telling yourself you didn’t need him anyway.

Why do I stay?
I know I should leave
Mascara fallin’ down my cheek
But you pull me in and make me forget
About the broken glass on our skin
We don’t get scared when the sirens come
A little fucked up ‘cause we think it’s fun
We kiss just to make up, we love just to break up
We head for disaster, but live for the danger

You had lost your job and all your friends. Daryl’s love was like a drug, and without it you couldn’t function properly. You turned up to his house, tears running down your face. You knew you shouldn’t be there, like any drug you need rehab, but you didn’t want it, you wanted him. He looked at you while you spoke, apologising for things that weren’t your fault, anything to have him back. Daryl pulled you into his arms and he dried your tears with his hands. You stayed in his arms for a while before you picked your head up and looked at him.

“Wanna do something fun?” you asked, a smirk spreading across your face.

“What you got in mind?” he asked, smiling at your words.

You grabbed his hand and led him out the front door, adrenaline starting to build up inside of you at the thought of being with Daryl.
                                                              ******

When the shop alarm went off you and Daryl sprinted to the door, bags filled with alcohol swinging in your hands. You ran just behind him, your adrenaline coursing through your body as you heard the shop keeper shouting down the street. You started laughing as you and Daryl look back, but your heart beat sped up when you heard the police sirens.

“C’mon!” Daryl shouted over his shoulder at you. He made a sharp turn down an alley way and you followed him, nearly skidding to the ground when he made another sharp turn. You don’t know how long you had been running for, but your lungs were on fire and your adrenaline was starting to wear out. Daryl soon came to a halt outside his house, the police sirens sounded far now and he smiled, knowing you two had lost them. He pressed his back against the wall once you were inside and you did the same, both of you laughing while trying to catch your breath back.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt that rush before” you panted, placing your bag of drinks on the floor.

“Seriously? Damn” Daryl said, picking up your bag as he headed over to the counter.

He started pouring the drinks into cups and you walked over to grab one.

“To a new rush!” he said, raising his glass in the air as you both downed your drinks.
                                                             *****

You don’t know how many drinks you’d had. Maybe three or four? No wait, ten? You weren’t thinking straight as you and Daryl sat on the sofa, a roll up in one hand and a drink in the other. You looked over to him and he looked at you. You both starting cracking up, laughing at literally nothing. You sat up and reached over him to grab the roll up in his hand.

“Woah, are you sure you can handle all this?” he asked, pointing to the drink and then the roll up.

“I’m not new to this part you know” you said, grabbing it from his hand and taking a long puff, watching as the fire burnt the paper down.

“Shit” he said, as he watched the smoke escape your lips in a thick cloud.

As soon as all the smoke was gone his lips were on yours, both of you fighting for dominance. When Daryl’s tongue entered your mouth, you lifted your leg and straddled him, running your hands through his hair as his hands roamed under your shirt and over your body.

You moaned at his touch and soon your jeans and panties were off and so were his jeans and boxers. You slowly lowered yourself onto him and he leaned his head back against the sofa, your tight walls feeling amazing around him. You leaned your hands on the back of the sofa while you moved your body up and down, making sure to rock your hips the way he liked it. He soon grabbed your ass in his hands and started biting at your neck, leaving dark bruises as a sign of you being his. The session soon sped up as Daryl took control, snapping his hips upwards into you as he grunted from the pleasure. You leaned down to kiss his neck and you soon reached your highs, the both of you panting as you climbed off of him and leaned back on the sofa. You grabbed the beer from the table and took a swig before closing your eyes and leaning your head on his shoulder.

Like you said before, his love was a drug to you, and you were overdosing on it too often.
—————————————————————————————————-

anonymous asked:

Prompt: Tom has trouble controlling his flames when he gets super flustered or embarrassed, which happens very rarely so it's never really been a problem. Until Marco starts flirting with him

Ahhhhhhh! You know exactly what I find adorably don’t you???? This was so fun and cute to write! Be warned it’s 100% fluff anf cute! I based it off an episode of adevture time I see going around in the tomco fandom and I had to do it myself!!!!!! Enjoy!

——————————————————————————————-

Marco slid over to sit next to the demon and smiled cutely. “Tom! I’ve been looking for you!” Marco said with a flirty tone. The demon blushed and looked away.

“Really? How come?” He asked. Marco scooted a little closer and Tom felt his heart race. He looked over at the human and saw Marco was blushing a little bit too.

“I um… wanted to share something with you.” Marco started. Tom blushed deeper and looked at Marco with a very hopeful expression. Marco giggled a bit and reached into his back pocket. He pulled out a piece of folded up paper. “Well, I was talking to Star about you. About how much I like you and stuff, but I can’t really express it when I’m with you.” Marco admitted. “I don’t know if it’s because I’m shy or… I don’t know. But she told me to write it down and then I can read it to you.” Marco suggested.

Tom felt his face light up and flames circle his feet. Marco wrote a love letter for him? Nobody has ever done that before. Tom moved closer and looked at Marco eagerly. “For me?” Tom asked. Marco nodded and Tom blushed even deeper, he felt his fire travel up his legs and circle around his waist. He was so nervous to hear what Marco had to say! “I-I’d love to hear it…” Tom whispered. Marco smiled and unfolded the paper.

“Dear Tom, I’m writing down whatever words come into my head because I want to make sure you hear exactly what I think when I think about you.” Marco started. Tom already was a flustered mess and he covered his face. Marco laughed a bit. “Come on Tom, listen.” Marco urged.

“I am.” Tom assured. Maro put his hand on Tom’s shoulder as to offer some sort of comfort for his nerves, but ended up yanking away when he got burnt. Tom shot up. “Oh no! Marco I am so so sorry!” Tom cried. “I didn’t mean to I just got nervous and I-I… please don’t be mad.” Tom begged. Marco laughed lightly and smiled at the demon.

“I’m not mad, it was an accident.” Marco assured. Tom sighed in relief and felt his flame burn hotter when Marco moved in a tiny bit. “It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. And besides, it’s nice to know I make you feel this way.” Marco giggled. He gave Tom a very fast kiss, so fast that he didn’t burn himself, but enough to have his demon boyfriend ignite in flames. Marco giggled and Tom pulled his knees up, surrounded by fire.

“Marco… cut it out.” Tom mumbled. Marco smiled and waited a second for Tom to get his fire under control. The demon took a few deep breaths and finally got it down to just swirl around his legs. “Okay, y-you can keep reading if you want.” Tom suggested. He was very excited to hear the rest of this letter.

Marco blushed a bit, remembering the love letter he wrote, and continued. “Oh right…” He cleared his throat and continued. “I remember first meeting you, I thought you were some agro demon who I didn’t get along with, and I couldn’t be happier that it changed. Because now I don’t know what I’d do without you. You aren’t mean and angry like you acted like when we were always at each other’s throats. You’re really sweet and nice, funny, cute, considerate and I love you.” Marco continued.

Tom’s eyes were sparkling and wide as he listened to Marco say all this stuff about him. Even though he had just gotten himself to calm down, he felt fire wrapping around his figure once again. Only it was burning hotter this time, and it was so bright Marco started squinting. “Am I hurting your eyes?” Tom asked. Marco giggled.

“Only cause you’re so bright.” Marco teased. Tom blushed deeper and turned away.

“You know that’s not me, it’s the fire.” He said back. Marco laughed and shrugged.

“Agree to disagree.” Marco smiled. Tom turned to Maroc and looked at him with glittery eyes as he waited to hear more of the wonderful letter. Marco smiled and looked back down at it. As he kept reading he felt it grow hotter in the room. Marco laughed a bit when he saw Tom was surrounded in flames. But he was peering out and watching Marco wondrously. He listened and believed everything Marco told him.

Marco smiled and moved to be as close to the demon as he could, without burning up, and looked at him when he finished reading. “Everything you do is incredible. And I love you.” Marco finished, beaming. Tom just stood there, surrounded by fire and trying to stop his heart from pounding out of his chest. Tom slid forward, he took a deep breath to calm himself, so he was put out enough to be close to Marco. He reached over and touched the letter Marco wrote. But to Tom’s dismay, when he touched it the paper burnt up.

“I ruined it.” Tom whispered. He looked up, expecting Marco to be disappointed in him, but instead the human was laughing. He looked at Tom and smiled warmly.

“That’s okay, it was yours anyway. And I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me how much I love you.” Marco promised. Tom smiled and the two began laughing together, mostly at the fact that Tom was so flustered he burnt the love letter to ashes, but neither of them cared. Marco was quiet for a minute and then he leaned in. He took Tom’s hands and gave him a deep kiss.

As soon as that started it ended, with Marco pulling away and clapping a hand over his mouth in pain. Tom’s eyes shot open and he jumped, realizing he had burnt his boyfriend again. “Marco! Oh no it happened again? I am so sorry!” Tom cried. Marco shook his head and tried not to let his eye water from the burn.

“No no, it’s fine, you’re nervous, it’s okay.” Marco assured. Tom looked away, feeling guilty and embarrassed.

“I keep ruining the moment. I can’t even kiss you without freaking out.” Tom complained. Marco stood still for a while before getting an idea. He got up and ran outside, he picked a rick up off the ground and came back inside. He kissed the rock and then handed it to Tom. Tom looked at it for a moment before kissing the same spot Marco did. Marco smiled big.

“It’s good enough for now.”

Kitchen Sink             (Song Choice)

Song: Kitchen Sink – Twenty One Pilots

Summary: You are an Avenger, but are much more powerful than any of them. You think no one understands you until you talk to Bucky.

Words: 823

Warnings: Language, kind of depression

I’m not sure what inspired me to write this, but it just kind of happened. Hope you enjoy! Emma Xx

Originally posted by misunderstood-adventures


Nobody thinks what I think
nobody dreams when they blink

Everybody walks around the Avengers tower, thinking they know me, thinking they know how I work. Well if they were to really talk to me, to really understand my mind, then they would never look at me the same again.

And they would be in tears.

“Being powerful makes you a bigger opponent against any threats!” they’ll say. That’s all they think about: how I change missions. Well it’s bullshit, all of it. I am more than the missions I finish…

I’m the one who walks into a room, and has to decide to not hurt anybody, to not let go of the grip on myself. It’s shitty, thinking that you can’t be yourself, but when I remember why I can’t, it’s always worth it.

I don’t want to hurt people, kill people, torture mankind.

Think things on the brink of blasphemy
I’m my own shrink

I was on my own, once again, in my room chaining myself up inside my mind. It’s on the regular I would think about all I have done, all I can do and all I am yet to do; that’s the bit that scares me the most, the idea of what I will do. Screaming into my pillow and crashing all the thoughts out of my head with one last scream, I rolled over onto my back, facing the ceiling and admiring its pettiness… blankness.

“Y/N?” called from the door, making me jump and sit up instantly.

“Bucky?” you chimed, painting a plastic smile over your face. Nobody could see what was happening behind your door… they just couldn’t. “Are… are you ok?” he asked, walking through the door as he glared at me. “Uh, yeah of course… why wouldn’t I be?” I replied, turning to see where I had just been sat.

There lay the paper I lit and the ashes from the brittle parchment.

And the lighter.

And my diary, next to it, frazzled at the corner where I had all but tempted the fire too much.

“Is this yours?” he asked, lifting it up slowly and admiring my writing. Closing my eyes in embarrassment of the night before, I lowered my head into my knees. The silence in the room was deadly and was slowly piercing me until I heard Bucky move slightly. “When was this written?” asked Bucky, mellow and almost no tone in his voice.

“Oh, that? That’s old, probably about three months ago!” I lied, trying to eliminate any sense of what I had just felt. “So that’s why it’s burnt, along with that paper? What does that say too?” he asked, instantly realising my lies. Easing down onto the floor, he picked out the only bit of remaining paper in the pile of ash. “….and tears? What does that mean?”

Sighing, I sat up and admired the survivor from the fire.

“It said blood sweat and tears. Until I…-“

“- Burnt it… I see,”

Think things are after me, my catastrophe
I’m a kitchen sink

“So when did this all happen… really?” Bucky asked, sitting down next to me, running his metal hands over the seams of the covers. “Was it just now?” he added.

“No,” I replied, shortly, wiping at my face in case anything tried to show. “That was all last night. When you came in I was just looking at it and thinking,” I admitted, not daring to look Bucky in the eye.

“About?”

“Uh…” I hesitated, glancing down slightly to the floor and remains of my dairy and the paper. “About how I’m scared…” I said, worried to say too much. “Of myself…” I added, looking up to Bucky for an answer.

“I know a little of what that’s like… to be scared of everyone else because of yourself,” Bucky replied, a lot more understand than I expected. “For a while when I joined The Avengers and faced Hydra front on, I was scared of being myself, for everybody else’s safety.” Bucky looked up to me, pulling a small smile to calm me down slightly. “I kind of grew to realise who I was, what I could do and built it into who I am now. I hate who I was, but I love what I use that for now…”

“But I already do that; I use who I am for good, as an Avenger,” I replied, saddened my statement.

“But you don’t like it… Look, don’t hide who you are just to be in the team. Strive to be different and aim for success. Letting off steam in the gym tends to help you know. You can totally let loose in the capsule room and no one is being hurt.” Assisted Bucky, his voice mellow and soft.

“I suppose,”

You don’t know what that means
Because a kitchen sink to you
Is not a kitchen sink to me, okay, friend?
Are you searching for purpose?

to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you’ve held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.
—  Ellen Bass