i know its overused!!!!


and then my soul saw you and it kind of went

anonymous asked:

Something I don't understand is in the episode where peridot got poofed her last words were"I'm the only one who knows about the-" this then leaves Steven curious enough to go into roses room then free her to get answers. I'm just so confused as to why cant he unpop bismuth like peridot if he wants answers like??


“It’s funny how this little guy means more to me than anything ever could, how over the years he’s been by my side when anyone and everyone else would turn their backs.”

you are dream-filled and you are drifting, a reflection of the gold-gilded boy with white wax wings, clutching at sunbeams even as the weight of your own folly drags you down; neither wisdom nor prudence has ever been your crime.

you are angry and you are aimless, a memory of a divinity, all poisonous smiles and a golden apple balanced on your fingertips. this world is burning silk, chipped marble, guilt, and the absence of another choice is all you’ve ever known.

you are wronged and you are repenting, a shadow kneeling at underground shores: mind full of howling, palms outstretched and ready to leave (refreshed and clean and without a single memory of who you were, what you’d done, at all).

you are fighting and you are finished, a dust mote testing for divine wrath — searching in futility for proof or purpose or someone whose rage to blame rather than your own — and asking a silent sky, are there gods, and do they deserve us?

faith: in which a story tells of only one realityabstractedfocus

oldmythos  asked:

Why do YOU like to write?

Ohhhh I think you asked me this last night  and like a very responsible onion I fell asleep before answering. <3 

I’ve been trying all day to come up with some sort of sophisticated and elegant, profoundly deep answer - and I just don’t think I have one, other than I really just….have to write. I’ve gone through periods in my life where I haven’t done so, and they’ve been a different sort of dark and lonely and less bright, if that makes sense. I love the feeling of seeing something in your head - kind of like a movie - and then finding just the right words to explain it. That tugging in your gut when something lands just right - a cliffhanger, or the perfect image - uhggghhh I live for those moments. I love creating something that didn’t exist before i took the time to sit down and make it so. Isn’t that neat? Art is such a beautiful form of expression - in any context - because of that unique, performative quality to it. Art does not exist until we, the dreamers and pushers and shakers and movers, make it so. It doesn’t matter the form or the context. We just have to sit down, show up, and do the work. And the end result is sometimes so breathtakingly beautiful. 

It’s always worth it. Even if it’s a struggle (and it often is; I don’t want to romanticize this), I always learn something from what I’m writing. New ways of characterization? New ways of expressing emotions through body languages? New ways of exploring tenses, or sneaking around filter words, or playing with styles and formatting? guhhhhh I live for those. I love learning and growing in this art form - any art form. And I really do love sharing these words and ideas and gifts with people, but that’s like a cherry on top. I write first and foremost because it’s a gift I have and I really firmly believe in using the gifts we’ve been given for good and beautiful purposes. Why else do we have them? Secondly, because nobody else will tell these stories in my head if I don’t do the thing. Thirdly, I’m a sucker for punishment and like beating my head against the wall and crying when the fic won’t edit itself, when the plot is dumb, when the fic is 15k long with no end in sight…

Ehhhh this got wordy. What’d you expect, it’s me <3 I LOVE WRITING. I hope I never stop. What a great question.


Things my heart used to know. Things it yearns to remember.


ya lit meme:
[1/9] quotes/scenes: clockwork prince - the infernal devices
“Tess, Tess, T e s s a. Was there ever a more beautiful sound than your name? To speak it aloud makes my heart ring like a bell. Strange to imagine that, isn’t it – a heart ringing – but when you touch me that is what it is like: as if my heart is ringing in my chest and the sound shivers down my veins and splinters my bones with joy.”


 i’ve been dead for seven years