the light of my eyes

harry: so i’m gonna be walking dramatically towards a door, out of smoke, dripping wet. i’ll open the door and be bathed in light, which will accentuate my tattoos. then the focus will be my eyes as i stare intensely into the camera. this will symbolise my rebirth.


harry: are you crying?

the person listening to his idea: you’re just *sob* such an angel

Maybe it was the light, or the glare in his eyes, but I knew in that moment that everything would be alright.
—  @echoss
untitled (by asher)

my name is bitter on your lips.
i know because i can see the way
your eyes flash, your lips curl.
i am not sweet licorice anymore.

but that is strange, because i was
never sweet. you just bit into my
center. i am the darkness in the
light. do not look into my eyes
and dare tell me what is wrong
or what is right.

you however, oh, you were always
sweet. bitter as the shell but soft
on the inside. you, oh, you were
the light inside the darkness.

i enjoyed swirling your blood on
my tongue, coating my sense of
taste in nothing else but you, sweet.
but i bit my tongue and you stung.

oh, how you stung.
and i finally knew
what it was like
to love someone
like me, as someone
such as you.

because darkness can only exist with the absence of light.
and i never needed you to complete me.

B.A.P Seoul Party Baby!

Hi loves. Admin V Here.

I’m normally not one to leave fan accounts (with the exception of B2st/Highlight this past summer)mostly because I tell everything to Admin Tam and feel good enough about it, but I’m also lazy. And you know, I live in Seoul and go to many concerts, and it’s just a lot of work, you know.

But, I’m still really hyped from tonight’s concert. Aaaaaaaaaand because of something awesome from the concert I HAVE SO MANY PICTURES TO SHARE WITH YOU!

Keep reading

I love the moment in The Ersatz Elevator when the Baudelaires finally arrive at the Squalors and the lights go back on. While climbing up the stairs everything was dark, and while reading this I really felt like I was in a very dark room, not able to see anything. Then they arrive and Esmé gets a call that light is in again, and they open the blinds. I loved that because it made me feel like light suddenly being switched on after watching a film in class or leaving a movie theater. While reading this moment I felt like my eyes had to get used to seeing light again. I love when writers make you feel like this.

The Prophet
The Prophet

Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
The Prophet

I dragged my flesh through desert gloom,
Tormented by the spirit’s yearning,
And saw a six-winged Seraph loom
Upon the footpath’s barren turning.

And as a dream in slumber lies
So light his finger on my eyes,—
My wizard eyes grew wide and wary:
An eagle’s, startled from her eyrie.

He touched my ears, and lo! a sea
Of storming voices burst on me.
I heard the whirling heavens’ tremor,
The angels’ flight and soaring sweep,
The sea-snakes coiling in the deep,
The sap the vine’s green tendrils carry.

And to my lips the Seraph clung
And tore from me my sinful tongue,
My cunning tongue and idle-worded;
The subtle serpent’s sting he set
Between my lips—his hand was wet,
His bloody hand my mouth begirded.

And with a sword he cleft my breast
And took the heart with terror turning,
And in my gaping bosom pressed
A coal that throbbed there, black and burning.
Upon the wastes, a lifeless clod,
I lay, and heard the voice of God:

“Arise, oh prophet, watch and hearken,
And with my Will thy soul engird,
Through lands that dim and seas that darken,
Burn thou men’s hearts with this, my Word.”

Translated by Avrahm Yarmolinsky (1921)
Illustration : Mikhail Vrubel (1905)


The Night I Drove By

A few silent, hot tears slipped from my eyes, pulling with them a stream of mascara I had hastily applied when I got out of bed at half past 5 pm.

Thick white lines raced underneath the windscreen while pairs of red lights run from it.

I allow my eyes to wander upwards for a moment, only to catch sight of that goddamn sign.

The one to guide the weary towards the city I know I could find your arms in but I cannot yet visit.

I feel the burn once more as I find myself sobbing for the cruelty of geography and misaligned opportunity.

I’m weary
I’m here
But I cannot see you
How much worse could it be.

Monday 8:27am
I woke up with you on my mind.
You called me babe last night —
my heart is still pounding.

Tuesday 10:53pm
Today I realized we won’t work.
What we are is hurting her.
And I think she matters more to me than you do.

Wednesday 11:52pm
I broke things off with you today.
She barely said a word.
I’ve never regretted anything more than this.

Thursday 4:03pm
I shouldn’t have sent that message.
You shouldn’t have been so okay with receiving it.

Friday 9:57pm
I almost messaged you today.
I didn’t.

Saturday 8:49pm
I’m walking around town in search of alcohol.
They say that liquor numbs the pain of having a broken heart.
I want to put that to the test.

Sunday 2:32am
I heard you texted a girl you’ve never spoken to before.
I wonder if it’s because you’re trying to replace me.
I can’t help but wish you weren’t.
I thought I was irreplaceable.

—  a week with you on my mind, c.j.n.