sorrow of the angels

Aside From Angels

A demure delightful spirit
never one to harm a living soul
seeking within her songs of sorrow
the tenderness to take her home
and yet
in this world too oft cold and callous  
aside from angels, she walks alone
sadly while with no heart to offer her
I still have to hope one day
she’ll find all she desperately desires
in the love that she so dearly deserves   

A million words won’t bring you back,
I know because I tried.
Neither would a million tears,
I know because I cried.

This angel of sorrow damned
To fall when she should soar.
Watch the way her eyes flicker
With flames of defeat
As her singed and broken wings
Cannot even lift her a scant few feet.
Her tears turn to shards of glass
Littering every step she takes
Leaving a trail of glittering sadness
Beautifully damaged in her wake.
She has learned to dance
With the demons on the ground
While her feet are cold and bleeding
From the shattered glass strewn all around.
She twirls into the madness
Gets lost amid the fray
Voicelessly she whispers
Of long forgotten yesterdays.
What is she to do
With wings too heavy to fly?
Wishing each and every moment
Was the one she took to the sky.
This scarred and weary angel
How she longs to dance on the wind
And take to higher places
Her sorrow cannot find her within.

© Courtney Turley 2016

Cursed Tavros by Edgar Allan Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

   While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

           Only this and nothing more.”

   Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

   Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

   From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

           Nameless here for evermore.

   And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

   So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

   “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

           This it is and nothing more.”

   Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

   But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

   And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

           Darkness there and nothing more.

   Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

   But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

   And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—

           Merely this and nothing more.

   Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

   “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

     Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

           ’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

   Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Cursed Tavros of the saintly days of yore;

   Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

   But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

           Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony figure beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient juju wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

           Quoth Cursed Tavros “nEVERMORE,”

   Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

   For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

   Ever yet was blessed with seeing foil above his chamber door—

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

           With such name as “nEVERMORE,”

   But Cursed Tavros, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

   Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—

   Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”

           Then Tavros said “nEVERMORE,”

   Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

   Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

   Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

           Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

   But Cursed Tavros still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

   Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

   Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous juju of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous juju of yore

           Meant in croaking “nEVERMORE,”

   This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

   This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

   On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

           She shall press, ah, nevermore!

   Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

   “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

   Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”

           Quoth Cursed Tavros “nEVERMORE,”

   “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if troll or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

   Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

   On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

           Quoth Cursed Tavros “nEVERMORE,”

   “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if troll or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

   Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

   It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”

           Quoth Cursed Tavros “nEVERMORE,”

   “Be that word our sign of parting, troll or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

   Leave no tin foil as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

   Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

           Quoth Cursed Tavros “nEVERMORE,”

   And Cursed Tavros, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

   And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

   And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

           Shall be lifted—nevermore!

Everlark Fics i’m Desperately Trying to Catch Up On: Week 4

Here are some more wonderful Everlark fanfics written by some talented authors. Here are my Week 1, Week 2 and Week 3 posts. Happy reading! :)

Fic Updates Week Ending 2/18/17

Hello Everyone! Hope this weeks update post finds you all rested and enjoying your weekend.  Sorry, I’m a bit late getting the list out today…ngl…it was long and hectic week here and boy, am I glad it’s over.  

Plus - President’s Day is tomorrow and unlike some of you, who will have to schlep off to work tomorrow, I’ll be settling on my couch to get caught up on some updates.  Speaking of…let’s check out what we discovered this week:

Everything But Money  Chapter 7  by @mtk4fun

Capitol Life Chapter 6  by @javistg

Karma  Chapter 3  by @pookieh

My Sometime  Chapter 2  by @sothereff

Where We Can Be Safe  Multiple Chapters by @geekymoviemom

Get Some  Chapter 3  by @herainab

Bride & Fortune  Chapter 2  By Everllarkingjoshifer

Unconditional  Chapter 3 & 4 (epilogue)  by @titaniasfics

Sorrowful Angels  Chapter 9  by @mega-aulover

The Firebird  Chapter 25  by @thegirlfromoverthepond

Pure  Chapter 7  by @katnissdoesnotfollowback

Leading Suspects  Chapter 3  by @katnissdoesnotfollowback

The Bad Boy  Chapter 4  by everlarklover1960

Weekend Getaway  Chapter 7 by @javistg

Happy Peeta Sunday!  Still the best damn day of the week!

Love ya!  Mean it!
Your Everlarkficupdate Team

Peeta looks so bad-ass in this pic - but those baby blues at the same time…sigh…anybody else as conflicted as I am?

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
   While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
           Only this and nothing more.”

   Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
   Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
   From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
           Nameless here for evermore.

   And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
   So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
   “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
           This it is and nothing more.”

   Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
   But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
   And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
           Darkness there and nothing more.

   Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
   But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
   And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—
           Merely this and nothing more.

   Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
   “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
     Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
           ’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

   Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
   Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
   But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
           Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
   For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
   Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
           With such name as “Nevermore.”

   But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
   Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
   Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
           Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

   Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
   Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
   Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
           Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

   But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
   Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
   Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
           Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

   This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
   This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
   On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
           She shall press, ah, nevermore!

   Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
   “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
   Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
   Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
   On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
   Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
   It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
   Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
   Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
   And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
   And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
           Shall be lifted—nevermore!

Beautiful words you’ve never heard before

diaphanous (adj) - light or delicate

dulcet (adj) -  sweet and soothing

mellifluous (adj) -  sweet or musical; pleasant to hear

nepenthe (noun) - something/someone that banishes grief or sorrow (example, you could have an angel that literally makes you unable to feel anything but happiness in their presence)

ludic (adj) - generally or unintentionally playful  or spontaneous 

numinous (adj) - having a religious or spiritual quality

susurrus (noun) - whispers or murmurs

pyrrhic (adj) - won at too great a cost (ex: winning the hunger games is pyrrhic because you have to murder children to win)

aurora (noun) - the dawn; the light

lilt (noun) -  a pleasant gentle accent

ambivalent (adj) - having mixed feelings or contradictory ideas (ex: someone’s toxic friend could make them both happy and sad, or ambivalent)

ethereal (adj) -  extremely delicate and light in a way that seems too perfect for this world

euphonious (adj) - pleasing to the ear


-k

// i spent like an hour doing this… idk why//

//also this title is so clickbait like you’ve probably heard of like, three of these before//

Fic Updates Week Ending 12/17/2016

Hey everyone! I hope you all had an amazing week. There were a ton of updates this week as well as some new fics as part of @loveinpanem‘s 12 Days of Christmas. Below is everything we found!

Fic Updates: 

Sorrowful Angels Chapter 3 by @mega-aulover

All the World Drops Dead Chapter 8 by @andthisisthewonder

The Firebird Chapter 16 by @thegirlfromoverthepond

Under the Hawaiian Moon Chapter 4 by @historywriter2007

Second Start to the Right Chapter 13 by @mega-aulover

Love Will Always Find a Way Chapter 2 by Burgundy_Embers

By Your Side Chapters 24-27 by @geekymoviemom

Lex Talionis Chapter 3 by @maxwellandlovelace

Siren’s Call Chapter 7 by ThornFromARose

Lost & Found Outtake and Chapter 10 by @peetabreadgirl

For Unto Us Chapter 3 by @xerxia31

Watcher Chapter 8 by @chele20035

New Fics:

The Twelve Years of Panem Chapters 1-5 by @thegirlfromoverthepond

A Christmas House Chapters 1-5 by @mega-aulover

Rebuilding Chapters 1-5 by @fanficallergy and @rosefyrefyre

Twelve Breads to Woo Them Chapters 1-5 by @alliswell21

The Holiday Chapter 1 by @jlalafics

The Mutt Chapters 1-25 by igsygrace

As mentioned the first 4 fics listed under new fics are part of @loveinpanem‘s 12 Days of Christmas. We only reblogged the first chapter of these stories but you can check out the masterlist @loveinpanem is putting out to find the remaining chapters (find the masterlist here) or you can search the tags by author on @loveinpanem.

As always please let us know if we missed something. I know I’ve been a bit preoccupied the last few days with traveling to be with my aunt while my uncle underwent a lung transplant so I haven’t been able to check tumblr that often. Therefore, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me (@gobletgirl), Dee (@lovelizziekins) or this blog.

Have a fantastic Peeta Sunday everyone!

Originally posted by everdeenlarks

Love ya mean it!
Dee and Kate

Fanon Clary: Sweet princess, never mean, an artist uwu sweet summer child but also a total bitch if she isn’t perfect 

Canon Clary: Righteous anger, will gouge out your eyes with a drawing, made of fire, cute when convenient, literally the most powerful shadowhunter, had an anime phase   

Fanon Magnus: Scrawny, fashionista, Alec’s significant other, would play “Gettin’ Bi” on the saxophone, a bottom 

Canon Magnus: Literally a prince of hell, ripped as fuck like he is made of biceps, full of sorrow but also good and kindness, a fucking angel, dark past, a father to Downworlders, full of love

Fanon Jace: Shitty dudebro asshole, just a dick about everything, cocky, sex god, never follows the rules, lol he’s scared of ducks that’s #quirky, shitty to Magnus

Canon Jace: Sad a lot of the time, really traumatized pls someone help this boy, really gentle, doesn’t shave, a little vicious, adores Magnus but won’t admit it, he doesn’t need the angel blood to b angelic 

Fanon Simon: A nerd, nothing but star wars jokes, in love with Raphael, lol what’s his religion or his ethnicity let’s pretend he has neither, a fuckboy 

Canon Simon: Ok he is a nerd, has an anxiety disorder, afraid of Raphael and a little in love with Jace, definitely into boys, JEWISH AND LATINO!!! would die for any of the women in his life, a mama’s boy 

Fanon Izzy: Lipstick, fashion, Alec’s little sis and nothing but that, #1 Malec shipper, fucks lots of boyz  

Canon Izzy: Can destroy anyone who comes near her, has mom issues, kinda polyamorous, a science nerd, and the best forensic pathologist in NY at that! also an amazing warrior, gorgeous 

Fanon Alec: A blushing virgin, the only half of malec ppl pay attention to, never been kissed, never seen a movie or had fun ever in his life, disgusted by women, has no experience w sex but is somehow gonna top Magnus’s ass like a pro

Canon Alec: A leader, a gay icon, a loving part of his family, will do anything for those he loves, strong, capable, looks at Magnus Bane like he wants to jump his bones, has no time for heterosexuality 

Canon Luke: A strong pack leader, loves with all of his heart, was a little in love with his parabatai before he was betrayed, a good dad, soft heart even though the world has been shit to him 

Fanon Luke: *crickets* 

Fic Updates Weekending 1/28/17

Hi Everyone!  Dee here, sorry we’re a little late with the fic list.  Been a great weekend with my SIL - we’re still kicking cancer’s ass and having as much fun as we can while doing it!  Here’s this weeks list:

Sorrowful Angels  Chapter 8  by @mega-aulover

Cinders  Chapter 6  by @ghtlovesthg

The Bad Boy  Chapter 2  by @everlark-lover3892

By Your Side  Multiple Chapters  by @geekymoviemom

Out of Bounds  Chapter 11 by lizzyvb

Everything But Money  Chapter 4  by @mtk4fun

The Firebird  Chapter 22  by @thegirlfromoverthepond

Never Let you Go  Multiple Chapters  by @doctorkepner

Capitol Life  Chapter 3  by @javistg

Match and the Rock  Chapter 2  by @hpfanonezillion

Mise en Place  Chapter 6  by @maisoncoeur

That’s it!  It’s been a very-very busy week for the team so I wouldn’t be surprised if something got missed.  So, I’m apologizing in advance!  I already saw two updates (after I went to sleep yesterday) that are set to be queued next week.

Hope you all have a wonderful week and Happy Peeta Sunday!  Still the best damn day of the week!

Originally posted by pronetoobsess

Wow!  Those eyes!

Love ya!  Mean it!

The Everlark Fic Update Team

The Raven
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
   While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
           Only this and nothing more.”

   Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
   Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
   From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
           Nameless here for evermore.

   And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
   So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
   “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
           This it is and nothing more.”

   Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
   But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
   And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
           Darkness there and nothing more.

   Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
   But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
   And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—
           Merely this and nothing more.

   Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
   “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
     Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
           ’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

   Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
   Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
   But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
           Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
   For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
   Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
           With such name as “Nevermore.”

   But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
   Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
   Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
           Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

   Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
   Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
   Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
           Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

   But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
   Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
   Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
           Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

   This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
   This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
   On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
           She shall press, ah, nevermore!

   Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
   “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
   Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
   Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
   On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
   Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
   It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
   Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
   Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
   And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
   And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
           Shall be lifted—nevermore!

—  Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven and Other Poems

Demons & Angels - BTS || masterlist

Park Jimin, Demon

“Sorrow and betrayal, the two feelings were so familiar to him, as if he had never felt anything but it his entire life. He would spend his days sitting on the beach walk, manipulating anyone who caught his eye with theirs. He couldn’t help it. It was his purpose, and he loved it.

He could drive people in to doing the most insane of acts from turning their esteem to dust and see it blow away with a light breeze to making people brutally murder each other.

But his favorite one was the one that but him through all missery to become who he was. Cheating. The feeling of betrayal, neglect, insecureness and loss of trust and love. Love, the most powerful.

He was young, in an unhealthy relationship, but stuck with it in hope, hope that the flower that was on it’s way to wither would regain its life and blossom in to the most beautiful flower. But the petals fell of one by one and one day he grabbed the sad flower planted in a pot and crushed it against the floor with tears streaming down his face and words of hate escaping his mouth.

The only comfort he had was that the two would never see blossoming flowers ever again after what he did to their minds.

Namjoon | Hoseok | Jimin | Taehyung | Yoongi | Seokjin | Jungkook

Photo © - rightful owners

@trickster-angel-of-healing cont.

The demon has woken up from a slumber she didn’t wanted. Forced asleep by someone she couldn’t had the time to see when she was roaming around the streets,even hiding her demon’s features. But apparently her scent was persistent,as someone managed to know she was a demon.Trapped in a cage,she wasn’t long to go all mad when she saw it.

An angel.

God,how much she hates angels,harmless or not. And that one,even if he was trying to sounds and look harmless,she felt it. Her animal senses going all out. That guy was far from harmless.

“Fuck off,I ain’t going to trust a damn angel like you. Don’t try to sounds and look harmless,when I feel you are far from being harmless.” She hissed,obviously pissed by the only presence of the man. “Open,and I’l gouge your livid eyes out of you.”