coloring your skin is a nightmare

Things the MCR albums remind me of

Bullets: Dead roses, torn wedding gowns, foggy mornings, shouting when you’re angry, angst, dimly lit rooms, black and greasy hair, dreadlocks, porcelain dolls, sketch pads, sketching pencils

Revenge: Red and black, red flowers of any kind, coffins, ciggarettes, old churches, black widow spiders, black ballet slippers, red eyeshadow, black glitter, torn skinny jeans, clear nights, full moons, graveyards, horror movies, demons

Black Parade: Hospital rooms, heart monitors, IV drips, pale skin, being cold to the touch, black and white striped arm warmers, nightmares, ghosts, being sick, wanting to give up, but continuing to press on, wheelchairs, blood transfusions, lethargy, medicine

Danger Days: Bright and vivid color, living in the moment, muscle cars, large cities, any 50s diner, hot days and cold nights, laying next to someone you love, giving your all in relationships, leather jackets, steel toe boots, neon lights, energy drinks.

Don’t Go (Bucky x Reader)

Request: #1 with Bucky❤💕

#1: “Please don’t go. Don’t leave me all alone here… I’m scared.”

Warnings: mention of nightmares, fluff

(Y/C/E) = Your color eyes

Enjoy :)

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“I Will Be Your Poem”

When the memory of
All that you loved has faded away
When your mind finds only darkened rooms
I will be that light so you will not be alone

When you forget to smile
I will be your poem.

When the light of
Sunsets no longer hold their color
When rainbows lose their magic
When love has faded to nightmare.

When you lose all hope
I will be your poem.

When the echoes of
Footsteps down well traveled halls
Lose their meaning; when faces pass
Without a nod, a glance, or a simple hello

When you feel you are fading away
I will be your poem.

Let me paint you with the finest ink
Breathe beauty again beneath your skin
I will be your poem
As you have been my soul.

There is pain in accepting that the country you  thought would save you from your homeland doesn’t want you. There is trauma in realizing that you are not wanted here, that your accent doesn’t make you special, that you are subject to violence based on the color of your skin in a nation that was supposed to be your promised land. We don’t want to believe that our blackness turns the American dream into a nightmare – that our bodies are the monsters
—  Hannah Giorgis (African immigrants must be Ferguson strong: we are black, and we’re targets) 
when reality is her (and nightmares are separate)

Also on AO3

Laura/Carmilla (Hollstein)

General Audiences (So, so fluffy)

Carmilla is getting accustomed to life with Laura.

Set after the Christmas Special. Things are calm.

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There are stones in between my ribs
and needles at the soles of my feet
but I will keep walking.

Breathing is harder some days
but laughing feels better than ever.

Falling asleep hurts my head
but once I do fall,
I fly.

I used to have dark nightmares
about lips
about kisses and lies
that would decorate my skin
and nibble at my ear–
now my dreams are silent
now the color comes back
in waves,
but strong.

There are echoes in my arteries
I feel them pulse through my heart
down to my toe tips
but today,
and tomorrow,
they are no longer
your name.