clearly my face is not that orange

Isaiah 26:3 is true. When you trust God to be good and do good, you don’t have to fear. When you know His love has already worked out your future, you can face the struggles with peace. This all begins with learning His character, which is revealed most clearly in the Word. I can attest to a definite correlation in my hopefulness and the amount of time I spend reading His words to us. When I see how flawless His track record is, it helps me trust Him.
—  Tara Leigh Cobble, Orange Jumpsuit: Letters to the God of Freedom

The Truth Behind The Pictures by Boy_On_Strings

[7796w | Explicit]

Stiles learns to paint. Derek learns something about Stiles.

Note: I’d forgotten about this fic until I found it in my bookmarks, and rereading just the opening section with all the descriptions of the paintings and their names still brings a lump to my throat. They’re so vividly and beautifully described, coming to life from the page, and to do it justice, I’m going to leave this little excerpt:

He turned to face the last painting, the little plate said, ‘Across the Ashes’.

A solitary figure stood outside a building engulfed in hellish orange and red flames. Ash rained down from the sky, the heart wrenching downpour stained clothes that had once been white with long streaks of pitch black. The man’s face wasn’t visible; however the tension and pain he experienced was clearly expressed in the strained muscles of his neck, in the fists clenched at his sides. In the distance, so small that Derek had to get closer to make out the specific details, a youth crouched behind a tree. He had short dark hair, brown eyes filled with longing. A single hand was visible coming out from behind the tree, reached down to touch the man’s shadow that flickered from the lights of the inferno of the man’s home, from the burning wreckage of all the man’s dreams.

Tears fell this time from the werewolf’s eyes. It was the most horrible moment of his life, captured with such solemn respect that it caused his heart to ache. He reached out, touched the hand that touched his shadow. He wondered what it meant. He got closer to the painting, noticed he couldn’t really identify the emotion that Stiles had painted onto the face of the boy reaching for the shadow. It clawed at his insides, not knowing.

gentle-ghost  asked:

What inspired Ezra's design?

a lot of things, actually !! i have a really big folder that keep a lot of cool art/photos for inspiration. and i. may have. made a big insp collage thing for him fnskjnfksjf 

PLEASE dont re/blog this post bc i cant source all this art omg

not all of the elements were used though, and its really hard to explain my thought process with each thing here fdjksnkjfsndfkjsdnkjf

-MOSTLY inspired by the bottom left pic, and the dark blue inside the visor. it gave me a large retro- 80′s vibe. then i added the vultures eyes above. i wanted his eyes to stand out and clearly show emotion but the rest of his face to be rough/indiscernable

-beside the bottom left, the puddle with the pink/orange/yellow/green was going to be his original color scheme, but i thought it was too bright for someone whos out and about at night

-also wanted him to have teeth of some sort. i got into an evangelion kick and wanted something like that fnsdjknfskjn i dont think that part came across well

-also largely based off the song nightcall by kavinsky, one of my faves. its also his voice fjksdnfjksd

I had never known color until I saw the flush of your cheeks
you called it pink, and the word felt soft on my tongue
“Pink” I’d say and look at your skin
“pink” I’d say against your lips
it was warm, it was soft
the color had been drained from the world and pinched into your skin.
I don’t recall knowing color until I saw your eyes
“gold” you said
“gold” I had whispered and the foreign word felt like home
and I couldn’t see the sun without thinking your name.
Would I want to have known color before you?
Would an orange painted sunset have looked half as beautiful if it were not accompanied by your hair?
To look upon your face and see, so clearly, love
to feel the warmth and relish in the supple these are what wear the colors
what makes them glow.
Red didn’t exist until your heart first beat, purple didn’t exist until you sucked it on my neck.
Without you I am gray
without you the sun does not shine.
The world is matte
The world is dull
The world is gray
and you are color.
—  Derek Malik Nurse looking at William Poindexter in the morning light
I’ve never once danced around my age or clearly, now, my face. Is it hard to let go of your beauty? Yes, very. I was pretty, so it’s tough. But why would I put a knife to my face and think that’s going to reverse time? It’s absurd. And for what, to get a role on a sitcom or a cameo in a feature film? No, you do that and you’re not believable as anything other than the movie star you so need to be, or else you’ll disappear. I’m not interested in pretending to be other than who I am.
—  Kate Mulgrew, 2015 (X)