I'll cling to glimmers,
I will build thrones from this eroded edifice of chalk
breathe ocean currents easily as air,
spread out ungainly arms and wave them, falling
I will bare out my blood when I meet ground
and lie there smiling
if only I can demonstrate for you the hope of flight
that keeps you striving.
I was drunk, of course
that would explain
the maudlin mood I'd caught, it slipped
into me with the whiskey
I was just drunk, and now
days late, a bit embarrassed. I
admitted all the welling glow that spilled past
booze-slicked lips, the needing of
this night, and you
just drunk (maybe) wrapped one strong arm around me,
and you told me, "Kiddo, we will always be
around to rescue you."
On another night
when we are drunk, or maybe
if I can find the bravery, maybe
not, I'll tell you what
I held, and did not say (which you, I think,
heard anyway)
This place inside my heart
is yours, this place
is where I love
I know this is preemptive,
pretending
a loyalty or light I haven't seen, only
glimpsed echoes ofpotentialities
ruthlessly dreaming, swimming
sentences into my empty head.
I understand some part of me would
like to learn to love you, wishing your hands
into antidotes
for all my stiffened aching
the last reminder of last lover's
crackling, emaciating pain.
It turns me purple, this imagining.
It turns me bruise-soft purple, longing
after something indigo again.
Fenris has never fought with anyone the way he fights with Hawke.
It isn't just that their styles of combat are matched, that a strike from one man always rings perfectly true to the other's defensive parry. It isn't even that they can read each other's movesthere are mercenaries and soldiers and common street thugs who can do that. Hawke, as Fenris is discovering with every backalley brawl and full-on battle, is an absolute master of combat.
The thoughts come to him disjointed and unexpected in the whirlwind of battle, like now in the blazing sunshine on the Wounded Coast: Evinder Hawke practically dances through a fight. Each step i
I'll cling to glimmers,
I will build thrones from this eroded edifice of chalk
breathe ocean currents easily as air,
spread out ungainly arms and wave them, falling
I will bare out my blood when I meet ground
and lie there smiling
if only I can demonstrate for you the hope of flight
that keeps you striving.
I was drunk, of course
that would explain
the maudlin mood I'd caught, it slipped
into me with the whiskey
I was just drunk, and now
days late, a bit embarrassed. I
admitted all the welling glow that spilled past
booze-slicked lips, the needing of
this night, and you
just drunk (maybe) wrapped one strong arm around me,
and you told me, "Kiddo, we will always be
around to rescue you."
On another night
when we are drunk, or maybe
if I can find the bravery, maybe
not, I'll tell you what
I held, and did not say (which you, I think,
heard anyway)
This place inside my heart
is yours, this place
is where I love
I know this is preemptive,
pretending
a loyalty or light I haven't seen, only
glimpsed echoes ofpotentialities
ruthlessly dreaming, swimming
sentences into my empty head.
I understand some part of me would
like to learn to love you, wishing your hands
into antidotes
for all my stiffened aching
the last reminder of last lover's
crackling, emaciating pain.
It turns me purple, this imagining.
It turns me bruise-soft purple, longing
after something indigo again.
Fenris has never fought with anyone the way he fights with Hawke.
It isn't just that their styles of combat are matched, that a strike from one man always rings perfectly true to the other's defensive parry. It isn't even that they can read each other's movesthere are mercenaries and soldiers and common street thugs who can do that. Hawke, as Fenris is discovering with every backalley brawl and full-on battle, is an absolute master of combat.
The thoughts come to him disjointed and unexpected in the whirlwind of battle, like now in the blazing sunshine on the Wounded Coast: Evinder Hawke practically dances through a fight. Each step i
While I'm well aware that my dA page isn't nearly popular enough for this to make a great deal of difference to anybody, it sounds like fun!
The first 14 people to comment on this journal will get a feature from yours truly :3 I'll pick my three favorite deviations from your gallery and post it here.
HOLY CHEESE THIS HAS BEEN HERE SINCE NOVEMBER OF LAST YEAR. What is my problem? Ugh, I'm sorry y'all. :( Regardless, here are my favorite pieces from your galleries!
1 Mythical-Whimsy (https://www.deviantart.com/mythical-whimsy)
:thumb276217756: :thumb277337336: :thumb276356082:
2 HalberdierMinister (https://www.deviantart.com/halberdierminister)
:thumb207749160: :thumb114788970: :thumb116688336:
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Hope you all enjoy the photos I've just submitted! I think my photography is getting better, especially compared to the pictures I took last summer. What do you think?
Most of the flowers I took pictures of are from my Mom's garden--she's an incredible gardener, and really dedicated to her green growing things. I thought I'd never be a gardener myself (I used to kill every plant I tried to grow as a kid!) but this past semester I tried growing plants from seed, and it's been incredible to watch them grow. Later in the season I might be able to upload some pictures of the forget-me-nots and white marigolds I'm growing as well--they're not as
Edit: Sooo I just downloaded a bunch of reference images of different athletes... 21 pictures, 5-6 people in each one... that's over 100 MORE people to draw. ;_; Oh well. At least I will be really good at drawing muscles?
I've got a LOT of reference material sitting around my computer in one form or another. I mean a really, REALLY honestly kind of obscene number of pictures of human beings and various others that I've tucked away in my "Draw This Someday" pile.
Thus, in response to my last whiny journal post (In Which There Is Much Whining), I have decided that I SHALL ACTUALLY DRAW THEM.
That's the goal, anyway. I'm going to attempt to u