Oh To Be A Nun In 1350 Enjoying Quiet Time And Gardening And Having Lots Of Lesbian Sex And Then Dying

omfg i forgot that i never showed tumblr my greatest achievement. my pride and joy, my pi-ass de résistance

Lantern Part 3

Read Lantern Part 1 🔥 Read Lantern Part 2

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These look eerily similar to my recent dreams.

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A great cause! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PldqRB_Rn_s

hi I'm from your pseudo-medieval fantasy city. yeah. you forgot to put farms around us. we have very impressive walls and stuff but everyone here is starving. the hero showed up here as part of his quest and we killed and ate him

Eugene de Blass (The Flirtation | Confidences)

Avoir un coup de foudre, encore

I had not seen you for such a long time. The sun has caressed your body, tanning your curves that your new style clings to as lovers at the edge of ecstasy. Gravity itself tips in your direction, heads turning, eyes feasting as you stride to the dance floor, the gold in the chandelier losing luster compared to your sheen. Even from the sides I can smell your perfume, wrenching myself away from the scenes playing behind my eyes as siren song to Odysseus. My soul calls to hart, to bound away before this predator could sense our gaze, but your claws slide over my shoulder sending me stock still, the crowd calling that I know the dances you seek. Your voice purrs and hums in my ears, and I am clay under your exquisite hands, guided to first position with our fingers interlocked. The first dance I am shaky, nervous and at a nadir of confidence; it has been too long, I am too eager, I am too much in my head. Unsure sounds escape your throat, even a yelp with my trip - still your smile would refocus me, your eyes laughing and playful. The second was rote but easy, neither of us straining, yet neither of us bored. The third dance, we are alone again. My fingers trace your throat as your laugh knows you have won. The song is difficult, the moves igniting fires in our limbs; still we twirl about each other, your voice clear, perfect, sweet, as I grow hotter, enamored with you all over again. Then it is over, both of us trembling within a mist of applause. You are led away to your case, your strings being loosened, the rosin tapped and wiped off. I lay a hand on your shoulder, silently promising that soon, we shall play again.

true love is the one that brings you happiness and, to me, what we had was true.

It was my purpose, my drive, and most certainly it was my will to live.

It was to me, surreal. a dream I got to be in everyday, an honor that filled my breast with pride and kept me brave.

love is above all, made of trust. the foundation determining how many cracks appear when the world shakes. I failed you - I swore to keep you safe, to strengthen our love everyday, to be together in all things.

I betrayed you with inaction: letting that anchor of a disease drag me away from you, leaving you alone - Atlas to hold the world at bay, while Epimetheus acted without thought. and so my days begin and end with a question, "if I lived to harbor this drop of Prometheus' flame, a being who inspired endless creativity, love, awe; why do I still draw breath when I was the one who called the earthquakes?"

this is so upsetting, PLEASE rb to spread awareness

To AH (draft)

I apologize if these words offend - I was not born with honeyed words on my breath nor silver inlaid on my tongue. These are simply the lines I have crafted: rough and humble to remain true. The moment your eye catches mine is both tempest and harbor. For in those icy waters I am drawn to passionate gales which sing with the storm of life, wishing to alight on every shore - to bend every tree, to live world forever having shaken the world. Yet in that eye is such kindness, compassion, and joy that no heart should dare to contain your wild and free spirit. I have said your voice is as the evening sun - warm, filled with scents of mystery and adventure. While true, I feel that it was too succinct. When you speak the world quiets, as every syllable is precious as dew upon the morning flower. What bliss it is to hear you happy, the glint of mistral on your eye, the curve of pleasure on your lips. What agony it is to hear you sing sorrow, that if I were more myth than real I would divert those rivers of heartbreak to wash out your troubles. When you laugh, it is as regarding the stars anew - the wonder of their form, from smallest sparkle to largest explosion. The inspiration those beauteous miracles create both move the human heart and inspire happiness to echo in every beat. As I look to the heavenly bodies, I can not help but be reminded of your mind - your wit casting after-images as they race across the sky; your musings, majestic and humbling as they stretch galaxy-like; the harmony of orbits reflecting the virtue of seeing everything without judgement and gathering the whole picture for a decision.

All these observations took time and patience. More on your part than on mine, I will admit. Witnessing your resiliency, your drive, your bravery, your courage, the small things:  the crinkle in your brow when you dance, the flutter of your eyelids when recounting a history, the subtle pink of your cheeks when you sport a true smile - I fell in love.

I love you, with all my heart.