white flowes

A Prelude to Love

She was a pale, slender girl, clothed in an almost sheer white gown that flowed as she walked.  But she stepped so lightly, it was as if her feet barely touched the ground at all.  Like a ghost had wandered into my mother’s rose garden.

I called out to her and she turned in surprise.  But instead of fading away, she patted me kindly and kissed my forehead.

Shouldn’t you be in bed, little boy?”

Endymion woke with a start, nearly tumbling out of bed.  He knew that voice, didn’t he?  Slightly embarrassed and still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Endymion began untangling himself from the sheets. It had been awhile since he’d had such a restless dream.

Keep reading

The Consul’s voice slithered around the room, almost a tangible presence against my skin. I shivered just from the overflow of her power, and was thankful it wasn’t directed at me. At least not yet. She didn’t dress in flowing white linen and gold headdresses anymore, but I guess when you’re that strong, you don’t need to show off. I wasn’t disappointed, though, considering that her outfit consisted mostly of multicolored snakes slithering and twining over her so thickly that only occasionally a patch of bare skin showed. Their scales caught the torchlight and shimmered like she was clothed in living jewels: onyx, jade and emerald, with the occasional flash of ruby eyes. It was more than the outfit that commanded attention, though; the authority in her voice and the intelligence in those dark eyes showed that, in some ways, she was still a queen. I hadn’t recognized her and no one had bothered to introduce themselves, but Rafe, at my back for moral support, I guess, had whispered a name in my ear as we approached the table. At my startled look, teeth had flashed in his dark beard as he gave me his usual rakish smile. “It wasn’t an asp that bit her, mia Stella.” (Karen Chance, Touch the Dark)

The Consul + Aesthetic

Mini story

The girl glided through the dripping tropical jungle, her bow pressing against the browned skin of her back. The ground slowly met her feet as she moved like shadow.

She blinked, and reality had shifted by the time she opened her eyes. The jungle had melted, and she was hunting on a giant clock face, her Amazonian garb replaced with stifling petticoats and a plain brown frock. She kept moving, and a second later she blinked again and her clothes were leather. The wind rushed against her face and caused her eyes to water, but she never stopped moving towards her target, driving the motorbike with one fell purpose.

Another blink, and she was in a white flowing dress, padding barefoot through a sunlit playground, with kids playing on the swings and parents looking on nervously. No one saw the girl as she chased her contract.

At the next blink, her entire body composition shifted, becoming hard and metallic, and shrinking, down and down into a sphere. She couldn’t move of her own volition, so she breathed as calmly as she could as she was propelled into the next rift.

There was a wood around her, that glowed with a faint blue light, and her bow had returned, along with a quiver full of arrows. She laughed. She only needed one. After a few paces, she came upon a clearing where the target was waiting for her, sitting on a tree that had warped into the shape of a majestic throne.

“You win.” He gasped from the effort of so many shifts.

“I always win.” She asserted as she let her arrow fly. “You should have closed them behind you, then you might have had a chance.” She whispered when his breathing had stopped.

Head canon that Blue Diamond changed her appearance because of stress

Since the Wanted arc aired, I’ve been thinking about Blue Diamond a lot lately and after seeing this video, it made me want to draw her.

In this video, @swaggythunder brings up a very great point about Blue Diamond’s appearance change from her mural depiction in the moon base to what we’ve seen so far.

In the mural, she wears what looks like a long flowing dress that exposes her gem and arms. Her hair color is depicted as darker than that of her skin. So we all expected her to look somewhat similar to that. BUT she ended up like this.

Why is that? Because she’s been mourning the loss of Pink, of course. So because of this, I wanted to draw what she could have looked like before Pink’s shattering.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love Blue’s design so much! I love the way she contrasts Yellow’s jagged and sharp design, but I don’t think Blue has always had the white flowing hair and mourning attire she has now.

Any Thoughts?

Angels walk among us. With crooked halos and shattered wings, they walk among us and try to remember what it felt like to be holy. Stretching out their arms and reminding themselves of what it felt like to soar.


Gods walk among us. Trapped inside too small bodies with nothing but the memories of when they were everything, and dream of the worlds and empires they helped forge. Their hands had once built galaxies, but now seemed so small.


Aliens walk among us. From far away worlds and twinkling stars, they carry on and wonder how they had gotten so far from home. One day they know they’ll traverse this galaxy once again, but until then they must make do with Earth.


Fae walk among us. Who try to remember their people, their customs, their dances, in a world that is convinced that they are children’s tales, and no more. Desperately trying to become themselves again, wondering if it was all simply a prank gone wrong, or something worse.


Forests walk among us. Those who remember their trees, their plants, the animals they kept safe under their canopy. Now they can only hope their small friends stay safe, until they can take care of them all again.


Animals walk among us. Wondering why they were stuck on two legs with none of their fur or feathers, scales or shells. Questioning why their voices suddenly are so wrong, so different from the cries they used to make. Surrounding themselves with whatever they can that reminds them of their home.


Ghosts walk among us. Clothed in flowing white and shadowy blues, wandering through areas that used to be solely theirs. They can no longer phase or float, but they make do. They have to.


Dragons walk among us. On feet without the claws they remember, and with heads held high despite the missing horns and fangs. They clamber forwards, rebuilding their hoard with every step of the way.


Dolls walk among us. Those with faded felt and chipped ceramics alike wondering why they were suddenly flesh. Looking over themselves and realizing their bodies were suddenly softer then they ever were, more sturdy then they ever were.


Galaxies walk among us. Made of star stuff and moonshine, infinitely growing forces trapped in too small bodies. Remembering what it felt like to span light years and wondering who had managed to trap supernovas into flesh and blood.


Monsters walk among us. In every shape and size; they walk; slither; crawl; and remember the days they were feared, and wonder if they really want that back. If they would want it back after finally being treated as a living creature with as much right to exist as anyone else.


Betrayers walk among us. With guilt-ridden hearts and regretful eyes. Who reassure themselves that it was the right thing to do, not quite sure if they believe themselves.


Saviors walk among us. With a shine in their eyes and smiles on their lips, reassuring all they come across that one day the sun will shine and all with be right once again.


Rebels walk among us. Causes long ago forgotten, but with fires still raging in their hearts. Challenging anything and everything. Unrest and revolutions follow them wherever they tread. Chaos and freedom, mixed together.


Survivors walk among us. Soldiers with nothing left to fear, who have instincts as their guide and luck on their side. Walking forward unafraid, because they’ve done this all before.


Immortals walk among us. Souls laden with sorrow, heartbreak slipping through their eyes. They know by now not to get close, but do so anyways because its the only thing that makes them feel anymore.


Soldiers walk among us. Hands itching for weapons they no longer have, tense with instincts they no longer need. Wondering why their body is so unmarred and unbroken. They had always done their best, but now they no longer knew if that was good enough. If it ever was good enough.


Children walk among us. Lost and afraid, they march forward, with the weights of a thousand impossibilities on their shoulders. These children are forgotten, and they would prefer to stay that way.


Cursed-folk walk among us. With cautious eyes and doubtful tones, who know that the world is against them now more than ever. Everything comes with a price, and they wonder if their price was truly worth it.


Mages walk among us. Hands of their magical tools of choice, ready to pull them out if necessary to defend or attack. Scared because this was the land their ancestors were killed in. Courageous because they continue forwards anyways.


Travelers walk among us. Those who took a wrong turn and found themselves in a world that isn’t theirs, hoping to one day find the way back. Strength rings through them, for they know they cannot- will not -stop until they reach their home.


Chosen Ones walk among us. Remembering what it felt like to be The One, The Savior, The Last Hope of their worlds- and wondering why that responsibility was ever thrust on them in the first place. Wondering why they had been abandoned back in their old world after fighting so hard for the one they had made their home.


Spirits walk among us. Spirits who see others like them in the corner of their eyes. Spirits who meet up in quiet secret places and remember, together, what it felt like to be themselves. Reassuring each other that one day they will all go Home.


Unicorns walk among us. Even with their horns no longer there, there is no doubt magic runs through them. They are blessed creatures, and they know it. Stars and sunlight glisten in their eyes, and every step plants flowers. 


Demons walk among us. Still feeling the darkness in their blood, and the calls of others like them. Hell fire and brimstone smells dance on the breeze, luring them away. Luring them back home.


Dire Wolves walk among us. Even without their pack, they are fierce. Every step a calculation, every move planned.The hunt is on, and it looks like you are the prey. Get ready to run.


Dinosaurs walk among us. Long gone though they are, the continue forward. With pasts surrounded by mystery and unknowing. They are a varied folk, from carnivores to herbivores and everything in between. Large and small alike they fight on.


Winged Ones walk among us. Backs aching from wings they don’t have- limbs they haven’t had in a long time. The sky calls to them, begging them to come home, but they cannot reply. Stuck on the ground, staring hopefully up at the sky- one day they might go home, but not yet, not today.


Glitches walk among us. Scratches on the disk of reality, blips in the world. Tilt your head, look at them from a wrong angle- they might just be lens flares, might just be tricks of the imagination. The world warps around a being that is not there, that shouldn’t be there.


Hellhounds walk among us. Hellfire sprouts from their paths, infernos blaze just under their skin. Embers burn their paws, soot stains their fur. Wildness stirs in their hearts, urges them forward. Feral creatures, born from fire and darkness.


Vampires walk among us. Fangs stained red with blood that is not theirs. Pale as untouched snow, with hearts as dark as the night they rule. Voids twist around them, cloaking them in their shadows. Look out for too sharp grins at midnight, watch your steps.


Elements walk among us. Raging winds, blazing flames, crushing earth, and surging waters rush together. Combining to make impossible possibilities, incredible worlds, exploding worlds. Elements that made up entire worlds now spinned into bones.


The Undead walk among us. Shuffling and stuttering, wondering if this makes them undead undead. Flesh now whole and bones unbroken, feeling their heartbeat course through their veins once again, feeling the air filling their lungs once again. 


Werefolk walk among us. Bodies no longer shifting as they once did, permanently stuck on their two legs, for better or for worse. From all walks of life, they shifted into anything and everything. They do what they can to remind themselves of what if had felt like to themselves again.


Starseeds walk among us. Those that have lived only a few lives and those that have lived hundreds walking together. Taking the same steps they’ve taken who knows how many times before. Memories trickle back to them, small ones and big ones alike replaying in their minds. Doing their best to remember their mission and goals.


Mermaids walk among us. Although, maybe walk would be the wrong word. Figuring out how to walk on separate limbs that used to be one. Feeling most at home when submerged in water, sometimes forgetting their new bodies need oxygen. Strong arms and new legs propelling them through water, making them relearn a skill that they’d known since birth.


Death Omens walk among us. Afraid if their mere presence curses everyone around them. Keeping to themselves, just in case. Wondering how much of their past life carries on to their new life. Afraid that their mere touch could end lives, wondering if its their fault every time catastrophe hits.


Psychopomps walk among us. Remembering their jobs, remembering their duty. Even when they hated it, they remember what that must do. Both an impartial guide and a guardian protector. It was not their job to judge, simply to provide a safe passage from here to whatever lies beyond. Smiling in the face of death, knowing that they are not here for them.


Shadows walk among us. Twisting and shifting, not solid forms but far from intangible. They are everywhere and nowhere all at once, watching on to every act, recording passively that actions of others, while also defending those in need, actively stepping out to protect. They are the night and the stars, and yet also the shifting woods and deadly blades that flash in the shade. They are, and they aren’t.


Prisoners walk among us. Remembering shackles and chains holding them back, holding them down. Forced in cages and cells, forced to repent. But now- now they are free. They are free to walk and speak and run. Every part of their soul sings. Shackles now rusted off, chains now broken- they have no intentions of ever putting them back on.


Robots walk among us. Rusty joints and electricity running through them. Mechanical men, made to work with no need for sustenance. Inorganic beings with artificial intelligence, making themselves better, making themselves evolve. Their jobs are not yet done.


Mountains walk among us. Their strength and fortitude transformed into movable flesh and feeble bones. Eons of near unending life taken away and replaced with a life of hardly a century. Where once they were feared and respected, they are now hardly ever seen.


Winter Sprites walk among us. Ice on their fingers, frost in their hair. Snow falls over their trail, painting the frozen landscape a chilling white. A shiver trails up your spine when they pass, followed by a freezing breeze- winter spirits in their element can freeze the world over, if one could be bothered to do so.


Seers walk among us. They watch, wide eyed and humbled, at the creatures who walk around them. Wings and horns and twisted bits, wandering through crowded streets. Their oddities, invisible to most, show bright and clear to the perceptive eyes of those who watch.



(want me to add one? Leave a reply and I’ll add it to the original)

the aesthetics of the gods
  • Aphrodite: the bruises of love bites left by lovers on necks and thighs; smudged lipstick from hasty kisses; blood red roses with their sharp thorns still intact; the way you hug someone you love when you reunite after a lengthy separation
  • Apollo: polished instruments gleaming, held like the most precious of jewels by their owners; a sunny day with a clear blue sky where there are no clouds in sight; the rough script of poems penned out on scraps of paper or napkins before they're forgotten; when music is so loud that you feel it reverberating in your bones; the pale lines of fading scars
  • Ares: the hands of a fighter, short finger nails and bloodied knuckles; split lips that have scabbed over; the smooth and intricate lines of old weapons you see mounted on museum walls; deep trenches dug out from the earth; the way barbed wire contrasts against whatever it surrounds
  • Artemis: loose braids with wild flowers slipped in; the majesty of tall trees stretching up endlessly towards the heavens; the wide and captivating eyes of wild deer; cloudy nights where the moon is just barely peeking through; the colorful fletching of arrows drawn back to rest upon cheeks and along jaws
  • Athena: the straight and steady way a soldier stands at attention; fingertips smudged with ink; a stack of books to read piled on the floor or a nightstand; eyes gleaming with the glow of new ideas; the quiet and contemplative aura of museums and libraries
  • Demeter: the way sunlight catches dust motes in the air through the gaps in the leaves of the trees; the feeling of life you get from standing in the middle of an orchard with bees buzzing around you; crocuses and snowdrops peeking through the last dredges of winter's snow
  • Hades: the bleached bones of animals in the forest when moss has begun to engulf them; the way that graveyard angels look like they're weeping in the rain; the solemn aura of old churches, citadels, synagogues, temples, and mosques
  • Hephaestus: the pleasure of holding something you've created in your palms; the soft glow of heated metal; the intricate beauty of cogs and gears fitting together precisely and working in tandem; the smooth and polished surfaces of high-rise business buildings
  • Hera: the lacy white of flowing wedding gowns; the way a couple's hands look clasped together; pairs of old wedding rings that are scratched from years of use; the feeling of surrealism that comes from looking at old family portraits; getting used to sharing a space with someone else and then seeing the mannerisms you've unknowingly adopted from them
  • Hermes: the way that the low beam headlights of a car touch the roads that stretch ever onwards at night; old maps yellowed at the corners from their age; the way that things rush past when you look out the window of a car or train; quick hands slipping deftly into pockets and taking what they find
  • Hestia: the light and protection of street lights in an otherwise dark city; the warmth of your bed on cold winter mornings; the heat of a fire as you sit around it with people you love; the comfort of a home-cooked meal
  • Poseidon: the way light looks when you're seeing it shine down from deep underwater; the effervescent colors of cresting waves; the eery beauty of shipwrecks; the ripples created when you trail your fingertips through still waters; dust clouds kicked up by the passing of strong hooves
  • Zeus: the way that storm clouds darken the edge of the horizon; silhouettes framed against the sky by flashes of lightning; the splay of feathers of a bird's outstretched wings; the polished and tarnished brass of old fashioned scales
6

My little sister was in tears today because she was wearing her hair naturally to school. She told me that she didn’t want to because people at her school always made fun of her or laughed at her when she did (including her friends and teacher). She said that she hates her hair and that she wishes it wasnt like how it is. I tried telling her that people would kill to have hair like hers. She didn’t believe me and said that no one wants hair like hers and that she hates it. We live in a predominately white neighborhood, so shes used to seeing white girls with flowing hair. She feels as thought their hair is prettier than hers. I know this is a bit stupid and all but, could you guys reblog this and share some positivity so that I can show her that she is loved and that her hair is beautiful and she should never be ashamed?

Who Did You Call!?

Three nights in a row now Keith was woken up in the middle of the night only to find Lance not in bed besides him.
Normally Keith wouldn’t be too worried about this, just whenever he asked Lance about how he slept all he got was a forced smile and a guilty “fine”.
Keith did trust Lance.
He trusted and loved him more then anyone else on this god forsaken planet.
He never even considered his boyfriend could be cheating on him until Lotor showed up.
Lance had once told Keith before they got together that his dream guy was tall, with long hair and is good looking enough to be a model.
A week ago Lotor had moved into the building.
The amazingly tall man with the body of a Greek god and the flowing white hair of a princess.
The super model that only seemed to own booty shorts and not a single shirt.
The guy that left Lance speechless just by winking at him.
Keith knew he was hot headed and tended to jump to conclusions so he tried talking it through with the most rational person he knew.
His brother Shiro.

“He’s been keeping secrets from me and sneaking around at night. I tried talking to him about it but he just won’t talk to me.” Keith whispered into his phone.
Yet again he had woken up only to find the bed empty where Lance should be.
Not knowing what else to do he called Shiro, despite it being 3am he had answered straight away.
“I don’t know what to tell you Keith.” Shiro yawned “if you think he’s cheating on you then you have to confront him, it’s better to apologise for being wrong then finding out he’s been dating guys behind your back.”
Keith nodded “yeah… first thing in the morning I will.”
“You know it’s probably nothing, I’ve never met a more loyal guy then Lance.”
Keith smiled “yeah your right, thanks Shiro.”
“No problem, night”
Keith hung up and settled back down in his pillows when he hears it.
“Hey it’s Lance again. I’m sorry I called you so late but I… I just needed you so much today.”
Keith turned over so he was face down on the pillow to try and hide the face he was crying.
———————————–

The next morning Keith could hear Lance making breakfast while he was preparing himself for the confrontation.
Right now there was no doubt in Keith’s mind that Lance was cheating on him. He took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

Keith stormed in on his boyfriend “who the hell were you calling last night?!” He demanded.
Lance jumped up when the door was slammed open “n-no one Keith I swear!” He smiled but looked guilty.


“On come on I heard you’ ‘hey it’s Lance again’ didn’t sound like no one!” Keith snapped grabbing Lance by the collar.
Lance didn’t say anything, his eyes darting to his phone laying on the couch. 
Keith dropped him picking it up, keeping his glare fixed on Lance as he redialled.
The phone rang twice before a woman’s voice came from the other side.


“Suicide hotline.”
Keith stared numbly at Lance as tears began to fall down his tanned cheeks. He hung up and tossed the phone aside.
“I… I didn’t want you to worry. I’m sorry I-”
Lance was cut off by Keith running at him and wrapping his arms around Lance like he could keep him there by pure will power.
“Oh God Lance. I’m so sorry I love you I love you so much! I’m sorry I didn’t realise! I’m sorry I thought the worse!” Keith sobbed as Lance wrapped his arms around the shorter man.
The two sank to the floor on their knees hugging and crying with each other.
“I won’t call them again, just please don’t leave me.” Lance muttered burying his face into Keith’s soft hair just taking a moment to breath in his scent.
Keith looked up at him cupping his cheeks with his hand as he kissed him on the nose.
“I will never leave you. So please don’t leave me. If you need to call them then you fucking call them as long as you tell me as well. Because I love you Lance and I can’t live without you.”
Lance sniffed “I love you too.”
———————————–
Of course that didn’t solve everything.
Lance still tried to hide how he really felt at times.
But he had a stable and loving relationship that helped make the bad days not seem so dark.
Keith was his rock and as long as he was there he may just be able to carry on.
For him.