this is mainly an art blog! I'm expanding it to include stupid stories about my life.
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these flowers bring out your eyes, so sweetly
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She rummaged through her future to find what she was looking for.
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right, so, this is version 1. because i’m apparently crazy, i’m also working on a version 2, made in a paper-cut style. \o/
whatchuthink? mountains are difficult for me. O_o (also children)(and painting)(speed painting? the fuck is that?)
EDIT: I edited it. with some feedback. :’D
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first draft of something epic. (hopefully)
set to the tune of blbest’s mountain and shiny moon :D
And he said his mommy was a moon that was real bright and big when she watched his daddy, she glowed like twinkle lights, kinda like Christmas stuff and glitter. He said he dreamed about all of this one time after his mommy told him how she fell in love with his daddy. It helps him fall to sleep when he doesn’t wanna. She tells the story a lot, sometimes to strangers too!
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it’s surreal, because apparently I won’t write a story if there’s any chance you might know what’s going on. (still accepting feedback so maybe this won’t suck)
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“You ready?” His hand holds mine. His fingers are cold and thin; just the touch of them makes me shiver deep inside. I wish I were wearing a heavier coat. Spring’s only just come, but yesterday it was snowing, and we haven’t seen the sun since November.
Steven looks at me like he can read my mind. “I’m ready” I tell him, and squeeze his delicate little hand tight so his fingers go white. The car is parked by a tree ten feet away.
“We don’t have to do this,” he starts, but I interrupt him and start walking.
“It’s too late to go back now, we came all the way here, so we’re doing this.” I look back. Steven is stumbling a little, so I slow down. I can get kind of rough sometimes, I know, but a light wind could knock him over. The rocks under our feet clatter and shift. “Unless this your way of telling me you want to back out?”
He glares, and his white cheeks go pink. He uses his other hand, the one I’m not pulling, to tug his hat down over his ears. He looks like a little ghost in the dimness.
“Not backing out, I just wanted to make sure you’re up for it,” he says, but his voice shakes.
I stop, and he catches up. Then we stand for a little while longer. The light’s getting brighter, I can already tell.
This time when we walk forward we do it together. He takes a step, and I follow him, and the rocks get dryer and more ragged. If one of us slips, we’d cut ourselves on them. I steady Steven.
Over the edge of the cliff we can see all the way down, out of the darkness and way beyond to where the sun is only a speck. The light still reaches us here though, radiating up, yellow and warm. I can feel it on my face and it’s like I can breathe again.
“Once we get there, we won’t have a lot of time to fix things,” Steven says again. He looks bright and flushed and alive for the first time in months.
“We’ll have enough.”
We’re still holding hands as we fall. If we can keep hold of each other we might even make it.
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i painted this in coffee. partially because I wanted to try it, but mostly because all my watercolours are on the 3rd floor, but my tv is on the 1st. and I’m a lazy sod.
Mapmaker, mapmaker, The Tiny Book of Tiny Stories
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We were dancing on the rooftop
Beneath tiny paper lantern stars
Spinning like children
Our footfalls were incantations
Calling down our somedays and our dreams
She looked at me with her eyes
But I swear I heard her voice
And she said without saying
That it is time, it is time
Then she reached out to me
As if I had a choice
And now her hand is tight in mine
And we’ve started to accend
I’m so high I think
I’ll never touch the earth again
ps. tumblr post 100! \o/
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