(Since I deleted my last blog that had this and didnt rb here) (and also for appreciation week)
-His eyes are a literal universe
-He’s a kickass sniper/ninja/assassin
-sensitive and sweet af
-damn good body mm
-sews, writes poetry, makes perfumes/explosives
-his mother (and family of course)
-his voice is wonderful to listen to
-very open and honest
-isn’t ashamed of complimenting people (or the opposite)
-isn’t ashamed of relationship
-all the affection he gives (and how much he blushes when it’s returned)
-he is intelligent (maybe not in education but damn he’s still intelligent)
-emotional and shows it (even for an angara)
-“Darling” “Dearest” “My Darling One” “Taoshay”
-bioelectricity for electrifying “moments” (I know all Angara but still)
-tall and strong, probably very warm
-total cuddler 11/10 would cuddle
-probably gives the warmest and best hugs/embraces out there
-his rofjin and rivaan and sniper is badass
-isn’t afraid to love you anywhere
-he can be a total savage with his words and I love it
-everything that comes out of that man’s mouth is poetic and I would listen to that 24/7
-his smile lights up my world
-the way he is learning idioms
-did I say he is emotional/sensitive? I love it??
-he protects, knows how to kill people in probably every way, would defend you til the very end
-respects people and their choices
-scars (though I hate seeing him get hurt)
-his laugh, smile, everything about this man, is what I love and live for-
OKAY. Took this request as an excuse to draw fanart for fic written by one of my favorite irl ladies <3333. Although these can’t possibly match up to the actual complexity and imagery of the story, here are few vignettes inspired by scenes from Inking Indigo!
If any of you are fans of ML, I’d recommend reading all of her stories-!
I have run out of poetry.
There is nothing poetic left in these hands.
This mouth has nothing left that isn’t coarse
There are only so many things I can say and a limit on the ways to say them.
Have you ever met someone who reminded you of yourself, the you you lost in history due to unexpected events & bad choices that left good & bad memories like a beautiful rose with life treating thorns dipped in poison, a part of me hoped I killed that version of me because now it feels my eyes has been open & the old me was just a foolish blind man who just saw sunshine & rainbows vibrating in the darkness, while the other half still misses the sun that embraced my skin & the way it kissed my flesh felt like a lover passionately pouring out herself to become one with me.. I encountered this being & at first glans she was just a girl, her touch left an Ora that grew the flowers, her words softly whispered to my soul “you belong to me” & it laid confidently on her eyes. “Ha yeah I’m to broken for all that” I thought to myself, “you’re not even my type” I boastfully vented under my voice without looking at her although our eyes met, the same old occurred she spoke about her past but not in detail, unconsciously I was drawn to her even before she spoke, but consciously I had my guard up because I didn’t have time for that, I’m in college in a different state now, I’m a foreigner I travel to much, & I’ve already encountered the women of this land.. I fell for the ones people called hos just because her body count was slightly above six or seven, disrespectful observation when they don’t know her story.. I fell for the ones people called to innocent just because her fruit hasn’t been touched by lustful men, but her lips knew every tongue.. I fell for the Christian girl, harmless you would think but she pulled my heart out wrapped in a wire & dragged behind a car.. she’s forgiven.. I fell for the Muslim girl who knew not of commitment, her heart wanted love from all who could give it but she wanted a traditional life with a husband & kids.. I fell for The girl who had no beliefs but all who could give her a climax to remember she accepted into her sanctuary, no man or woman was ever enough… so I decided to be alone until she came along, the image of the heart I carried she possessed.. who knew the whole time my soul was calling out to her before I drowned it in sorrow as it suffocates & there it will lay no more, she was everything I was but better, who knew I needed a half to fill the whole painting that I am, her soul knew I was the one but I wasn’t ready, I wanted to grow alone so she can encounter a man, but she wanted the boy to grow into a man as she grows into a woman.. together.. but why.. we are now in different location but I can still fill the warmth of her soul hugging mine, & you ask knowing you are far away “am I to clingy”, “no” I said “no you are not”.. she says “you sure because I don’t want to chase you away, I don’t want to annoy you, I just want you to be happy”… my words came from her mouth less poetically but it was right. She writes me poetry now & then to express herself..a release I to use.. it’s something I used to do to show my love for the women that were mine in different times but that part of me faded away but manifested itself into her, it came back to me, back to me knowing I needed it.. surprisingly we like the same things & dislike the same things, “God you’re a funny man you know that” with a joyful voice I spoke, because although she’s close to my heart she’s far away, basically saying you can look as we Skype but you can’t touch as the screen presents itself as a force field, a shield ugh, but I believe it was right to be away, to practice patience & restraint, to expel the new me who believes sex defines it all, that’s the real connection… to regain & accept the me that knows a connection, a bond a relationship will survive for all eternity…. I finally saw her, the define lines & soft pink in her lips, the marks on her gold skin that had been strategically placed on her, the smile that broke any strong hold on my life when it appeared, just her I finally saw her, the blinds that covered my eyes were shattered.. but sadly I feels I haven’t been loving her the way she’s supposed to be loved because I’m numb but I do know this… I know the feeling of love & this is it… but my brain has been conditioned to feel empty.. but I do encourage her so if I may continue on this road of emptiness she’ll be strong enough to leave me “don’t let any man think or say less about you, not even me, don’t let no one treat you less than a queen, not even me, don’t let people compare your beauty to anyone it’s yours therefore no one can begin to comprehend the roots & depth of it, not even me although I compliment you you are beyond it” so she may know who she is & the power & wisdom she carries.. but as she’s grows she still wants my lonely soul, “ I just want to crawl into your heart & fill in the places that have been lost, because you have showed me what love is & the throne on my heart has been empty for so long & it belongs to you my king” she passionately says to me… can I just say that there is nothing like a black woman.
in another life, your poetic mouth is in love with my keen soul & we ask questions like children, eager to hear the things we already know: your lips against my throat, the warmth of your breath, your face that i still see even if we don’t turn the lights on. it’s certain that we are in love & we try our best to hold everything within our hands. you are just a few inches away from me and you kiss all the bruises, all the violet, red places, all the fears and uncertainties, you kiss everything in me and i give you everything, all of me.
You feel like a numbing sound in a sea full of poetic mouths, sending out white noise just to get even so much as a quick glance.
You’ll knock yourself down a few more pegs and critique your owns words and a sudden rush of frustration fills your bones and your inspiration, your motivation to move mountains with a string of words suddenly fades
and you can’t even piece basic vocabulary together
but, you are never unheard.
The emotion that floods from your fingertips, seeps into the hearts that beat to every curve you make and dotted I that you put into your writing.
Maybe you are no Hemingway, Plath, or Green, but you are one of a kind and the universes you hold inside of your mind deserve to be seen.
The quality of your writing should never be based on how many comments how many notes that are left for you nor is it based on your misplaced punctuation and messy handwriting.
It’s the passion and thought dripped into every sentence and paragraph you molded on your own.
You are never unnoticed.
Your words split seas and rattle solid grounds.
Your words hold more meaning than you’ll ever let yourself believe.