stained canvas

(seen 00:57) persephone:

i was never a god.
the promegranates you gave me
were soaked in the ichor none
of us wanted to admit was there.
i have swallowed plenty;
it has been flowing in my veins so rapidly the blood was spat out,
reborn. when you stain the canvas
with gold it forgets the crimson
is still under.


(seen 1:00) hades:

you were always a queen. i only polished your skin

—  it has been glowing since. is it the fruit? (demi ev.)
LUST. (M)

Inspired by Kendrick Lamar.

 Warnings: serious infatuation…

Jungkook x reader 

A/N: If you think this is low-key creepy, then you understood the whole concept. Listen to the song and you’ll understand.“>

Lust was all it ever was.  

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Splatter (Older!Damian x Reader)

Requested: Yes
Request: May I please ask for an imagine where damian comes home to his artistic s/o painting and he comes up behind her and starts trying to get some loving and reader is like ‘im busyy’ but after damion starts tickling her neck with kisses she turns around, wraps her hands around his neck and… sLAPS him in the face with paint then she bOLTS, Damian catches her and covers her with paint and kiss marks and it v’ fluffy♡
Summary: A paint fight helps you create the finishing piece for your exhibit.
Word Count: 693

You were focusing intently on the artwork in front of you. It was the final piece to complete your exhibit at the upcoming gala. Unlike the majority of your work, this one was bright and colorful, inspired by your feelings of love for your newly wed husband. It was glorious and lively, but something was missing. Something to give the painting true life.

Your concentration was fully focused on the work, allowing Damian to slip into your designated art room unnoticed. He watched you silently for several moments. He adored the passion that he saw in your eyes whenever you created art. He had never seen someone as beautiful as you in those moments. He watched you struggle with placing your colors for as long as he could bare the distance.

He slid his fingers across your back gently causing you to startle. You frowned and looked back at him as he pulled you out of your world.

“Damian,” You looked up at him over your shoulder. “Not now, I’m busy,” you added before returning to your work. He watched you add another paint stroke before he curled his arms around your middle.You tried your best to ignore him, but it became increasingly difficult when he began to plant loving kisses across your neck. When he found that sweet sensitive spot, you practically melted against his chest. You allowed him to suck a gentle hickie on your flesh before you turned to claim his lips with your own.

The kiss was passionate and felt so meaningful. It was difficult to remain grounded when he kissed you like that. Before he could deepen the kiss and wash away the last of your resistance, you pulled away and quickly smacked him with your paint coated brush.

His expression was priceless. He stood there stunned with a green smear on his left cheek. You couldn’t contain the laughter that exploded from your chest. As you were laughing, you missed the mischievous glint that entered his blue eyes. As you were doubled over, he picked up a tray of paint. The same moment you looked back up, you were greeted by a handful of red paint. You squealed as he rubbed it all across your forehead.

“Not as funny now, is it, beloved?” he laughed musically. You set your determined gaze on him as you tossed aside the brush and grabbed the tubes of green, blue, and purple. You attacked him swiftly. He countered with  red, orange, and yellow.

The chasing began in a strange game of paint tag. You’re unsure of how long the game lasted before he ended it by practically tackling you to the floor. He covered you with purple and blue kisses. You giggled as you watched the orange and yellow transfer onto his skin. You smiled lovingly up at him. It didn’t take long before a rare, but dazzling smile graced his features.

“I love you,” you sighed as everything felt right in the world. He planted another deep kiss on your lips. He shifted his weight to settle between your legs, but a loud thud abruptly ended your moment.

You gasped as you saw it was your canvas that had hit the floor. Damian was off of you in a second as you leapt up as your heart dropped. The painting was face down on the floor and had taken the discarded paint pallet with it. Damian remained silent as you gently lifted the canvas and replaced it on the easel. You kept your eyes closed as you tried to prepare yourself for the damage. When you finally found the courage to open your eyes, a smile spread across your face. It was perfect.

On top of the colorful picture you had created, there was now an array of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple splattered here and there. As you looked between Damian’s paint stained face and the canvas, you realized it was the spark it had desperately needed.

“Can you repair it?” he asked as he came to around to look.

“There’s no need,” you smiled. “It’s perfect,” you beamed as you stood back and looked.

A/N: I hope you like it! It was really fun to write the cuteness! 

109.

“I don’t -”

Bucky resolutely stared at the grass under his feet, kicking at the clump with the heel of his shoe until dusty dry earth stained the canvas of his sneakers.

“I don’t get how you’re so open about it,” he said, finally.

Clint was sprawled backward across the bleachers, one foot on the bench and one on the ground, his shirt rucked up a little and his fingers scratching idly across his belly. Bucky looked back down at the ground quickly.

“Who gives a shit?” He said, and the harsh words shouldn’t be said so casually. They should hurt more, and their very ease in Clint’s mouth kinda suggested that maybe they’d hurt too long to be anything other than familiar.

“I always thought everyone would,” Bucky said, running his finger under the strap of his prosthesis in an awkward, familiar motion.

Clint shrugged, his shirt hissing against sun-warmed metal, squinting up at the sun.

“Can’t remember the last time my dad checked into the real world,” he said, “and my brother -”

He made an oddly elegant gesture, dismissive, like his brother had been disappeared by magic. Everyone knew the Barton boy was in jail, though. It was one of the more pressing reasons why Bucky was the only other one out here. Well. Aside from the obvious.

“Don’t you bother about what people will say?”

Clint laughed, and tapped behind his ear.

“Don’t have to hear ‘em,” he said. He pushed himself upright, his muscles obvious under rolled up sleeves, and Bucky bit his lip and - for maybe the first time - didn’t make himself look away. Clint ducked a little to catch his eye and grinned.

“You know you don’t have to tell anyone?” He said. “You do you.”

“I’d rather do you,” Bucky said, and curled his mouth into a grin he’d been practicing in the mirror.

It was worth the bellowed laughter that rang across the field, worth the Hell he was gonna catch from his mom for skipping class, for the instant of shock on Clint’s face, the flushed cheeks and bitten lip and wide eyes.

anonymous asked:

hi, do you know the name of the fic where I think dan was in a hospital and phil was the nurse and he helped dan build a pillow fort?

Black And White (And Screaming Color) (ao3) - the one where Dan is a teenager admitted to the hospital after his lung cancer hits a particularly nasty bump, and he hates it- but a beaming, beautiful, bright-eyed nurse named Phil Lester makes everything a bit better. Dan is shades and layers of grey-black-white, but Phil is screaming color. The world is printer ink on cheap paper, Dan is thick, messy acrylic paint on rough paper, and Phil is pastel, watercolor stains on hot pressed canvas. Everything fades with time, even masterpieces.

- Sam

BBRae Week: Day 2 [Primal]

Awkward Moments vs Primal

I went with something pretty different here (it’s an AU). I’m not too happy with it, but eh. 


She watched the young boy struggle in vain.

They slammed him against the wall, his small frame hitting the concrete with a loud, reverberating thud. His cheek pressed hard against the cement, and he squirmed helplessly all the while they held him down. His eyes, the colour of forest trees and glittering jade, locked with hers; a silent plea for help.

He was the last normie left in the project.

The more time that had passed, the more they’d all innocently assumed that not even their cold-hearted captures would have the nerve to weaponize the sweetest, most kind-hearted soul in the place.

Of course, they’d been wrong.

So wrong.

[follow the cut for the rest!]

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Credence Barebone x Reader- Warm Hugs and Cocoa Mugs

Credence Barebone x Reader- Warm Hugs and Cocoa Mugs

A/N: My first Credence x Reader imagine! This was actually really fun to write, and this may be one of my favorites so far. I may do a part two in the future but let me know if this should happen for sure. You are all fabulous and amazing people :) Enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of pain and angst (Credence is a cinnamon roll protect him) also mass quantities of fluff :3


Credence breathed in his new surroundings. Mary Lou had decided to move some of the meeting spots for the Second Salemers in an attempt to gain a fractal of support for their cause. Instead of looking out onto the busy street of New York, his eyes were focused on a smaller café downtown, the type that had little potted plants on the windows and welcoming fragrances of scrumptious treats sailing through the breeze.


But that wasn’t the only thing that caught Credence’s attention. You caught his eye one day as you stepped out to bring the chalkboard that promoted a sale on biscuits in to shield it from the rain. The cloudy weather only made your bold persona stand out more to him. Your hair was only slightly drenched, but it still looked perfectly styled. Your apron had tiny little coffee stains dotting over its canvas material, most likely from spilling a few orders. Your notepad was tucked loosely inside one your pockets and its pair the pen rested gently behind your ear. Your smile wasn’t the kind of malicious grin that he was used to seeing, but instead it was almost warm. Insults did not spill toxically, but instead sweet compliments of customers’ hats and ushering welcomes poured like silky honey. He was utterly enchanted, captivated, intoxicated with you and your wonder. He just wanted to know you a little more.


“Credence.”


Credence turned back towards the voice that summoned him away from you. Mary Lou’s had a strict look etched on her face. Her scowl said what words didn’t need to. He was slacking again, he knew he was but he couldn’t help it. His heart wasn’t in this, it wasn’t his choice to stand outside with papers all day.


“I’m sorry ma’am,” he said while tipping his hat back town as he proceeded to try and pass out flyers.


Little did he know, you glanced over at him just as much as he did towards you. At this moment you were collecting leftover plates and cups to take to the back room to be washed, but you couldn’t help but notice that Credence was back in front of the building again. Every day he came down with the Second Salemers to pass out more useless flyers, or attempted to at least. At first you didn’t know his name, but you soon picked it up when you hear the older woman yelling at him for absurd reasons. You found him mysterious and hidden, but at the same time mesmerizing and sweet. His dark hair didn’t appear to match his gentle personality you had seen him exhibit when around the other kids. You picked up the last of the dishes and glanced once more out the window before returning to your shift.

Hours past the day and slipped into the night when Credence found himself outside again. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be out right now, but he couldn’t stay. Mary Lou had beaten him again, with her reasoning being that he ‘stared too much at people without giving them flyers.’ He looked down as his torn hands. They were bruised and aching from the searing cuts of open flesh. Battered, bruised, and broken, he sat in the streets on a curb. Like his hands, his heart laid mangled and aching in his chest, desperate for acceptance.


He was a freak he decided. An outcast, a freak, a useless piece of nothing that would surely fade away out of existence soon enough. Like a dandelion in the wind, his hope and joy had disappeared and scattered far too high and fast to stay with them.


His cries echoed in the empty streets as flickering street lamps were the only sign of movement. He didn’t belong. He didn’t belong with a family, he didn’t belong with Mary Lou, and he didn’t belong anywhere at all. His form shivered slightly as his breath shook and seeped out like smoke in the night. Broken, he sat still, bawling quite loudly with little sniffles from time to time.


When he put his head down again, he heard a faint voice beckon to him.
“Are you okay?” it spoke. Credence froze in his spot and looked up to see your e/c eyes staring back at him. He wondered why you of all people were out here, but then he realized where he was. He was simply on the side of the café that he was previously standing near earlier and you must have been working still. Your hair fell past your face and you gently reached out one of your hands to him.
You spoke once more, but quieter this time, “You don’t have to be alone out here, it’s pretty cold. Do you want to come inside?”


His sobbing had softened to a mere trickle of tears, but he happily obliged and took your offer. Wordlessly, he accepted your hand as you led him inside.


The interior was extremely different than his own home, if he could even call the hellish place a home. The inside was coated on a yellow glow, most likely from the dangling lights along the walls everywhere. Each seat had a slight cushion to them, and each was more comfortable than his own bed. Much like a soft hug, the smell of baked goods and various types of coffee nudged him into a state of serene comfort, a feeling he was foreign to. You sat him down at one of the tables before you left back to the kitchen. Credence instantly began to worry. He was alone again, for the café was past closing hours. He wondered if you would come back, or if you would leave him like everyone else did.


However, these thoughts subsided briefly as you came back out from behind the tall counters. Your flowing walk came back into view as you held a tray of two mugs and some scones, more items that credence was unfamiliar to having. You set the tray down smoothly as if you were trying not to scare him before talking to him once more.


“I brought you some Cocoa and sweets, they aren’t as fresh but I thought it would help you feel a little better.“


Credence looked hesitant. No one had offered him something like this before. He imagined you as caring, but this confirmed his assumptions. You were wonderful.


“T-Thank you, um..” he trailed off, guilt searing him once more like a knife as he regretted not knowing your name.


With a small giggle you responded, “It’s Y/n, Credence.”


He stopped sipping the warm mug in his hands. How did you know his name?


“I hope you don’t find it odd that I know your name, but I have heard that other woman say it a few times. I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable.”


He was touched. The empty hole of his missing heart suddenly felt a little warmer. He wasn’t sure if it was the drink or your care, but he definitely felt different.


“Do you want to talk about why you were upset?” you asked, not wanting to pressure him. He looked down at his hands, mentally debating as to whether or not he should show you. You had offered him food, a drink, a place to sit, and most importantly, your loving kindness. Now it was his turn to add to the exchange, by giving you his trust. He never did this, as he was often hurt or laughed at in the end, but you were different. He could just tell. With a heavy sigh, he lifted a closed fist onto the table, and opened it up. It was like watching a flower blossom, he was giving himself to you, to trust and accept, to let you into his heart.


However, he instantly panicked when you gasped. He was sure he had let himself get too close to you, for now you were scared. His hideous hands had frightened you, and it was all his fault. His hand sealed in shame while he tried to hide it from your sight, but your soft ones opened it back up again. Confused, he looked up with more tears brimming his eyes. His eyes locked with yours, his own tears mirroring yours as they slipped down your pink cheeks.


“D-did the woman do this to you C-Credence?”


At this, he broke. He let out all the pain that had stayed with him for so long. He had no one to seek safety with for all those years, and now, you were staying with him. You noticed his state and asked if you could hug him so you didn’t scare him. Once he gave you permission, you wrapped your arms around him, just letting him cry and tell you what was wrong. Credence needed you. He just didn’t think you would like him; he thought you would run away or bully him like the others.


Once the majority of his sobs left his body and he had calmed down a bit, you passed him back a scone and his mug. You brushed his hair with your hand and let him hold you. By now the two of you were on the floor of the café, but you didn’t care. Credence needed someone to hug and hold, someone who would give him comfort.


“Y-Y/n?” he whispered out.


“Yes Credence?”


“Thank y-you for not running away from me. I know I’m a monstrous freak.”
You stopped him immediately. “Credence you are not a monster, far from it actually,” you whispered as he gazed up at you.


“You just need someone Credence, someone who will treat you right because you’re special. You are special Credence. Very special and very sweet and very sensitive and you need someone who won’t scare you anymore. All you need is a little love Credence.”


He questioned you again, “Y/n?”


“Yes?”


He sniffled before going on with his thought, “D-do you love me?”


You looked down at the trembling boy who was obviously in shock with what had just come from his mouth. He thought about how much he was weirding you out, how strange you must think of him as now. No one could love him.


“Yes Credence, I do love you.”


You were right, all he did was need a little love. He never expected the innocent and sweetheart who served people drinks all day would be the one to say it though. A few more tears slipped between the two of you as your comfortable held one another still. He knew he should be home or Mary Lou would be cross, but he knew he needed you more. You two remained sitting close to one another as you whispered sweet words.


Credence, for the first time, felt was love and care was like. It was soft like your hair and kisses on his forehead, sweet like the scones and cocoa you brought out, and warm like your comforting cuddles. You radiated a calming kindness that he had never known so well prior to this night. Love was in your heart, and now, it was in his own as well.

Part 2: http://unscriptedtimetraveler.tumblr.com/post/155658563121/credence-barebone-x-reader-warm-hugs-and-cocoa

Won't You Listen
Too Close To Touch
Won't You Listen

Are you happy? Do you hear me?
Did you feel our hearts breaking slowly?
Maybe all you care for is all you see, shut our hope in a bottle and cast to sea.
It’s perceptions of what could have been, what might have been,
what should have been. 
Through these veins, out the pen, Stain the canvas every night.
I’d be lying if I said I’m fine somewhat. It’s hard to breathe when it’s tight sealed shut.

The drive and ambition of an Aries burns deeply inside of you,
Leaving your skin rusted from hard work, and your bones burning from the fire,
You’re a phoenix that flourishes in the flames
You’ve learned to dance with the devil in the heat, causing any symphony of an ice cold heart to melt away like liquid gold.
The beauty of a Taurus is painted on your face and body
Your eyes glow like deep sapphires, I didn’t know blue could be such a warm color until I met you,
The strong mountains and thick trees are a resemblance of your strong limbs and how you carry yourself,
You’re lips taste like the finest wines, and are made out of cashmere and velvet
The energy of a Gemini rings like bells in your voice,
Your tone is ever so uplifting and bright, it adds color to my black and white day
The melody you sing and the tune you hum is like a hypnotic and gorgeous siren resting in the waves
I want you to pour your hopes and dreams into me as you hold me in your arms
Your core and soul is graceful and gentle has a Cancer
The water pools in your heart and waves calmly like a glass lake
When you hold me I feel the energy of a cascading waterfall reaching inside of me, and quenching my thirst for you
You love like a golden lion of Leo,
Passion and euphoria drips out of your golden eyes,
You are the lover that sparks lighting bolts through my veins
You are the lover that reminds me of spilt black ink on a white dress
Memories being stained on a blank canvas that is my life
Before I met you, I’d only make art in black and white
Now I paint in color
The sun falls into Virgo which shines purely upon your face
You remind me of fresh white sheets on a Sunday morning
You remind me of sleepy morning sex after we’ve drank our coffee
You strive for perfection, you want to fit in, you seek approval
If you only saw that you are perfectly imperfect in my eyes
The sensual beauty of a Libra posseses strongly over your 5 senses
The sight of you is like staring at a beautiful marble sculpture at the finest museums
The sound of you is like listening to a string of hypnotic melodies
The taste of you is like earthy beauty and sweet dreams
The touch of you is like running my fingers through a river of silk
The smell of you is like smelling the atmosphere at sunset on a lake
The cosmic sexual energy runs through your blood hot with lust and cool with love
You leave the colors of a galaxies across the planes of my neck
The way you make yourself at home inbetween my legs makes me feel brighter than the sun
Staring into your eyes is like staring into two deep blue twinkling nebulas
I wanna hide forever in your heart
I want to explore you’re body and soul like a Sagittarius would
I could plant kisses across the valley of your body
I want to climb the mountains of your heart
And swim in the ocean of your soul
I want to discover the coldest and darkest parts of you like Capricorn’s Saturn
To take the coldness you feel in life into beautiful ice crystals
To turn the bitterness running through your blood into pure untouched love
To turn the icy breath you breathe and make into fire
I will love you past your flaws like the heart of an Aquarius
I will trace imagenary drawings across your transparent stretch marks
I will feather kisses across the scars on your stomach from when you had cancer
I will rub the knots out of your sore back, and build towers made of kisses up your spine
You are loved, from the inside out;my sun and stars
I want us to make art out of each other like a Pisces would
I could paint my beautiful perception of you out of the richest oil paints
Spending days to get just the right shade to match your stunning ocean eyes
You could write poetry about me at 5:06am
Letting every ounce of emotion you feel towards me flow through the ink like a stream and onto the paper.o
—  The 12 signs live in your heart
Definitions

Permeation—The faucet left running
A knob unintentionally left turned on
When you rushed out the bathroom
Down the stairs
Out the door
You were at the corner
When water was accumulating
Quietly rising in a sink with everywhere to go
A stilled tantrum
A smoothening menace
Splashing on the tiles
The water
Running over the cliffs of broken grout
No seal tight enough for
The spillover
Seeping
A seeping dripping
Water churning
Warping beneath
Yellow tear marks clawing as they fell
Paint bubbling
Seams unzipping
Beginning from the ceiling
Staining a wall
Its canvas of pictures
Memory or life or imitation of it
It depends at how you look at it

ilvermorny house aesthetics

pukwudgie: words choked in your chest, burning from the inside out, crawling to strangle your throat, but you scream in the tears leaving your eyes; memories pressed with gentle kisses to a worn journal kept between so many books; a glance of understanding; wildflowers brushing scratched calves; the cool dampness of grass imprinting beneath giddy toes; gentle hands holding a loved face; fingers interlacing with another’s to grip onto hope in the face of despair

thunderbird: photographs taped to mist embraced windows; the whisper of secrets spilling into giggles; a puzzle piece twisting and leaping between absent-minded fingers; the comfort of warm grovel under your back and the brush of a cooled breeze kissing your nose; bottom lip bitten rouge - eyes apprehensive, but curious; the brush of fingertips across my neck; the ache of bruises and scratches, caressed by thoughtful eyes; holding yourself close beneath the comfort of loose yarn over naked skin

wampus: fingers glancing over piano keys; steps echoing on wooden floors; the brush of nerves whistling on anxious shoulders, keeping you in flight for what’s to come; the stretch in your neck while hanging over the back of the chair, evening touching the sky out of the corner of your eye - there’s a thought, but it’s escaped; paint tubes, brushes strewn around stained toes - a canvas stretched wide and loved by happy fingers dancing across her surface

horned serpent: the envelopment of cool sheets on a summer’s night; ankles greeting the ocean waves it wraps around her with cold kisses; melodies lingering even as eyelids shut to the welcome the mind’s dreams; the burning alighting the heart as legs carry you out of the forest and into an abyss of wheat fields; light touches across wrists, over parted lips; warm light filtering through barely there curtains, books stacked, arranged in an orderly havoc; pillows pushed against one corner, blankets with its arms open to a heavy heart

anonymous asked:

Robyn

Robyn is red streaks on a new white canvas, raspberry stains around your mouth. It’s the little shock you feel when you brush your hand against someone else’s, pure and overwhelming. Accidental. It’s gasping breath and biting down on your teeth when you’re bored to feel that specific kind of limit and mild pain.

send me your name and i’ll tell you what color it sounds like

Poison for the Poison Tree:

Rage is the entity that is the most feared. 

As for others, sets them into gear. 

Guilt is the demon that shows to mostly all. 

If allowed they will rip you to the ground. 

They have no sound. 

Nevertheless, they are all around. 

Poisoning the soul. 

Then devour it whole. 

You can either discover it on your own. 

On the other hand, due to crossing paths with a lifeless soul. 

As black a coal. 

Staining our canvas, and soul. 

You contain the strength to make the worst seem better. 

Sadly, most cannot. 

The confrontation between them can and will be overpowering for all. 

As controversial as it sounds. 

The many of reasons people hurt. 

With so much despair. 

It is at time hard to with stand these emotions. 

They will be the death of you.

Watercolour stains on white canvas, 100x150cm

Snowglobed in April
I dreamwalk through flakes
A strawberry vendor
Has put on her cape
Umbrellas are swaying
Sugarpowdered on top
The little church nestled
Into reflections of garlands
Burberry coats and their knots
The warmth of the tram
Curls around me like cats
And my breath in my scarf
Draws out spirals and sets
On the glistening droplets
Of April

no one to see, in our hollow tree

yo, back at it again with the overwatch fic. this one is a sequel to honey drip, a mcgenji fic, though you don’t really need to read it to get this one. just know that this is a AU where Genji is in his early twenties and never tried to leave the shimada clan. everyone else are their same ages.

paring: shimadacest 

rating: mature

enjoy~

alternative link to ao3 here

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Varric's Tale About the Companions of the Inquisition
Varric's Tale About the Companions of the Inquisition

Inspired by the missing Varric lines known as Varric’s Tale, in which he speaks about each of the Dragon Age 2 companions, the incredible spicyshimmy and I present Varric’s Tale about each of the Inquisition companions.

We figured the storyteller would have plenty to say about his new traveling companions. Here is a link to the original missing lines, as well a post about them made by danaduchy. (x)(x)

Script for each companion written by spicyshimmy (go give her a follow she is amazing).

Varric’s voice provided by lightgetsout (myself).

Please feel free to follow along with the text below!

SERA: It isn’t everybody who can find reason to laugh in the heat of battle. When everyone else around you is screaming, that laughter arcs like an arrow and lands as soft as sunlight. Suddenly, you remember what’s waiting for you away from the carnage–home, also known as a dirty joke shared between friends. 
THE IRON BULL: Look, they say strength is more than muscle, just like some scars stay unseen. The bigger a warrior, the clearer the target. It’s not easy being broad as the side of a barn, so you have to be tough as an anvil. So what if you carry the echoes of every weapon that’s ever broken across your back? You’re still standing, aren’t you? DORIAN: Tevinter–always in the distance. Always looming. Like an ink stain on the canvas, you know? And no matter what you do, that ink spreads like a blight. Sometimes, it’s not too clear what changes when the only light for miles is held in the palms of your hands, but you keep it burning and hope for sunrise. VIVIENNE: If looks could kill, we’d be dead already, but given the alternatives–isn’t that the best way to go in these times? A swish of silk and a shiver of ice bolts. One time, I saw her tear down a tower without so much as disrupting a single bodice seam. But don’t let the icicles fool you. The cold can burn; it has its own kind of heat. CASSANDRA: Tell somebody enough stories and you forget where fiction blurs into friendship. Maybe we don’t get along. Maybe we never will. But here’s the truth–there are some women who put their shoulder to stone and the stone knows it’s time to break. In fact, I think she could even kick clean through writer’s block.BLACKWALL: When you’re younger, you think the stories about the Grey Wardens are the best ones. You think the Deep Roads are a distance you’ll never come to. You start to build your walls and never imagine a time they’re high enough to cast a long, dark shadow, a black beard seamed with gray, and all your friends buried long ago. SOLAS: They say the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes. But the thing is, the most dangerous of us all can prove the fastest friends. Don’t we all like to hold hands with a little danger now and then, and share in dreams we never would have seen if they hadn’t opened our eyes? COLE: The only plea you have to honor in life is this: Don’t forget me. All those lost hopes and buried wishes; children who never grew up; stories that were never told. They gather dust like knickknacks in an attic. Now and then you remember the memory you shared, and just like that, it lives again, bright and beautiful against the blackness of the forgotten. VARRIC: Yeah, what about the storyteller? Whatever happened to him? Seems like he’s not writing as much these days. Some say he’s living too much to reflect on what that living means; others figure he just plain ran out of ideas. You see, if you want a story told right, you’re going to be waiting forever. Maybe that storyteller simply couldn’t bring himself to say ‘the end’. 

As always, we hope you enjoy it and thank you so much for listening!

The paintbrush cried before I did.
Staining the expressionless canvas,
smothering it with miscellaneous marks,
those of which were indecipherable scrawls.

Tempestuous strokes striking a match,
setting ablaze the belligerent painting.
Vicious flames engraving foreign marks,
unknown to the human eye.

The inferno melted away rapidly,
leaving a despondent atmosphere behind,
lingering in the melancholic air.
Extinguished by the dim cries escaping
from my timorous lips.

The morning light crept up along my skin,
fluttering my numb eyes open.
My paralysed lips parted to speak in expostulation,
but shut them purposefully.

There is nothing to be said, this is it.
Whether I would like to think otherwise,
this is art.

Poem Prompt!

I’ve got this poem that I love and I was wondering if someone could write something based off of it? Preferably a punk!phil is writing the poem and he falls in love with space!pastel!dan, along those lines! Everything else is up to you!

Love Did Nothing

I cried out love’s name
With hope that I’d be saved
From the awaiting hands
Of isolation
Love did nothing to help

I quivered with euphoria
At love’s desirable touch
And I thought that this bliss
was only exposed to me
Love proved that to be wrong

Bruises tainted my pale wrists
as paint would stain a canvas
And though I stood by love’s side
Through all this vehement pain
Love did nothing at all for me

And though love betrayed me
I pray that one day
Love will cry out my name
Whether it be a moan of pleasure
Escaping through soft, swollen lips
Or a plea for my assistance
As love tries to overcome
The true reality of living

I pray that I could hold love close
And that I could rely on love
As I used to
Before the darkness showed me
That my previous love
Was not by my side

I had cried out love’s name
But love never cried mine