greyere

Closed || Something Borrowed, Something Blue

The small family of four stood out even among the great crowds that were beginning to amass in the church, heads were beginning to turn, whispers beginning to follow them; Harry with his salt and pepper hair, looking older and greyer than ever, with Alexandra on his arm, young and radiant in comparison; Jamie, in jeans that were artfully torn at the knee, showing off flesh that was still mottled and swollen even now, limping along, dependent on his cane; Genevieve in a floral summer dress, a flower crown plaited into her long hair, now the colour of candyfloss, with transferable tattoos up and down her arms, glitter on her cheeks - but the biggest smile on her face.

Who were these people? the bride’s family and friends wanted to know. Who would wear jeans to the biggest society wedding of the year? Who would allow their daughter out looking like that? Was she their daughter, where those two … Married? Shock ran through the pews like a delicate shiver as questions such as these were whispered and answers were whispered back.

“That’s Lord Carlisle, Will’s uncle.”

“Yeah, that’s his wife. Everyone knows that word is used loosely. At best she’s a golddigger. At worst-”

“- A whore.”

“And her son is a drug addict, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Oh I think everyone in this room can tell…”

As she walked up the aisle, her steps slow and measured so that she could keep pace with her brother, Genny’s smile dimmed a little and her eyes dropped down to follow the cracks between the tiles, cheeks flushed pink from embarrassment. “Mummy isn’t a golddigger, I wish they’d stop saying that,” she whispered sadly. “I wish they’d all just stop.” Luckily, she missed the harsher things people were saying about her because despite outward appearances, her newfound confidence was still shaky, especially this far away from home.

@lordcarlisle

There is the grey shoreline, the grey sky and the even greyer ocean, stretching across the horizon like a bleak expanse of uncertainty and silence. The waves crash, and you hear them crash, with their white foam that touches the brittle sand and broken glass and you hear them recede, with their murmured apologies and quieted sorrows. But above all you hear the silence and it is loud. Deafening. Agonizing.

And you step. You feel your foot sink a centimeter into the damp sand, leaving an imprint and crushing a life. You feel the sea breathe underneath you. You feel the bones of ancient civilizations groan under your foot. You feel like an unrighteous conqueror. You feel.

Step, step, step. In time with the rhythm of your own heartbeat that whispers run run run as the blood in your veins rushes through your ears and your lungs breathe in anxiety and breathe out fear. 

Step, step, step. Like a watch ticking down to the demise of something infinitesimal and insignificant. And maybe that’s it. Maybe the world is turning another hourglass for nature to take its course. Maybe the heartbeat in your not-quite-hollow-yet chest is the soliloquy of the universe at the end of something that belongs to it but is, undoubtedly, inconsequential. The hourglass is still but the sand is not, and each grain ticks, and ticks, and ticks. A birth, a death, and then…

And then -

Business as usual.

The world turns still. The shore stretches still. The sky looms still. The waves crash still.

Absolutely nothing (and everything) changes. The earth breathes underneath you as you walk, towards the waves of the beckoning ocean, and you feel it. You feel the earth’s lungs stutter, but yours don’t. You feel the earth’s heart palpitate, but yours doesn’t. You feel the earth shiver, but you don’t.

You simply don’t.

You feel the earth live, but you don’t.

anonymous asked:

what do you mean when you say Lukes eyes are different colors

the one on the left is greener/greyer than the bright blue on the right!!!

You were coffee I tried to swallow while it was still too goddamn hot. You smelled like waking up and I was too hazy to see that you would scald me. I thought I could force you down but spat you out instinctively, a bitter smelling stain all over that nice white tablecloth your mom bought me. The heat was gone, but I couldn’t get that fucking stain out and I still have to swerve my eyes away from it whenever I eat breakfast. Most of the time it makes me too nauseous to eat. Eggs and shame is a bad combination. My tongue blistered and things still taste greyer then they did before. Just leave him, they said. They forgot I can’t afford tide and that my tongue burns don’t go away for weeks.
—  or, the reason why my heart beats too fast when I read about someone with your name

@inkblxtrefxrmed:

Being in the middle of a forest, and surrounded by tall trees, as well as the overlaying foliage, helped him to blend in with the darkness. He honestly didn’t feel like dealing with anyone, since he wasn’t in the peak of physical health.

What he wasn’t expecting, if anyone, was a small child. His own eyes opening just barely as his head shifted against the dry dirt. The Blot soon closing them again, the low light straining to his already stressed system. He honestly felt sick, as well as the ink taking on a greyer hue than normal.

The only movements made by himself was a single arm. Moved in such a slow way, and to give a small push. Keeping the child at a further distance. Finally speaking with a sick gurgle of a voice, “You wouldn’t look good either if you were sick to your stomach.

[from here]

She wrinkled her nose, stepping back out of reach before crouching down to peer at him.

“You aren’t gonna throw up, are you? Grant threw up on the bus this morning. It was pretty gross.” She poked at the ground with a finger, as it was now in her immediate vision. Lynne hadn’t put much thought into her actions- how she’d gotten out so far into the forest, was one of them, nor how she was going to get back. She’d just started walking away from her field trip group, and now here she was.

“How’s a monster get sick? She asked, head tilted slightly. It hadn’t occured to her that someone feeling so miserable probably wouldn’t want to chat.

lookihaveacello  asked:

I came back home to The Netherlands yesterday after more than three weeks in the south of France and I'm already depressed. The weather is sooo much greyer than I remember and when I opened the window this morning I smelt the disgusting sweet popcorn

oh no m sorry !! it will get better friend

sleepover timEeEEEeeeEEEe