#scriptastra

[scriptastra]

[happyk44]

"I have Yukio, and Yukio has me!"

Sources: 1. Blue Exorcist by Kato Kazue; 2. Song for Sasha Banks sung by The Mountain Goats; 3. How The Light Gets In by Joyce Maynard; 4. He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother sung by The Hollies; 5. Brother by the Interstate by K. C. Cramm; 6. Blue Exorcist by Kato Kazue; 7. The World at its Beginning by Dustin Pearson; 8. Dioscuri by Dante Émile; 9. The Lunar Chronicles #4: Winter by Marissa Meyers; 10. I'll Give You The Sun by Jandy Nelson; 11. Blue Exorcist by Kato Kazue; 12. @/godlyrot; 13. @/scriptastra; 14. Trista Mateer; 15. Unknown; 16. Blue Exorcist by Kato Kazue

[lyralu91]

If James Delaney was a poet

- and if my dialogue was as mindblowing as @scriptastra's writing!

I want to make it absolutely clear that the dialogue below ⬇️ - as seen in the prose/poem above the gif ⬆️ - belongs to Scriptastra.

I only claim the very last line and the "surrounding text".

Thank you SO much to the wonderful @scriptastra for letting me share and use these beautiful words! ✍🏻💛

Word count: 330

Contains sexual tension and slightly possessive language.

The gif is meant to set the mood here, but could definitely be used to imagine a meeting between James and Zilpha.

He has you up against the cold stone wall of a battered old barn, hiding you partially from the downpour. The silver light in the sky makes the raindrops look like tears of the moon, as they rush down the overhanging roof and leave shimmering trails through the black wool of his coat, like visible shivers down his back.

"I am yours..." he says, voice low as if the words have rumbled in his chest for far too long, full of desire and dark reverence. "The way the tide aches for the pull of the moon."

His breath is warm along your cheekbone and his moustache keeps tickling your skin. The brim of his hat nudges your brow as he moves his head, perhaps for a reaction. 

You can't see it, but his eyes search for yours through the dark. An eager flicker that contradicts his immovable calm.

You stretch your neck, away from him slightly, which only beckons him to lean in closer with another poetic proclamation.

"How the moon stains the skin of the sea, with nothing but longing... and silver."

His voice is lowered into a deep whisper as he strokes your neck with the outside of his leather clad hand, and you swallow hard, making the rain trickle down your throat.

You imagine - no, crave - the feel of his fingers through your hair, over your lips, around your neck. His mouth should be tasting your skin. His tongue should be licking rain off your collarbone; slurping, sucking, humming into the hollow of your neck until your legs shake.

You breathe his name and James moves in like a shadow, impossibly close, with a deep, pleased noise that suggests you've said all you need to say, and that he’s intent on making you scream it.

"I am yours..." he repeats, and your chest heaves high at the feel of his gloved thumb on your pulse point, so very gentle compared to the demand that follows:

"Say it."

[pigeon-is-blogging]

[echo-temporis]

[Text ID:

We lived like a Fitzgerald draft, didn't we?

And you felt the lie beneath the shine, didn't you? Our days were frantic sketches, smudged with desperation, filled with fool's gold and the stench of wanting. Every touch, a hurried note; a scene played out under a light too harsh—too revealing.

The words we spoke were sharp and broken, but beneath the surface—a constant, gnawing hunger. We were figures outlined in haste; never finished, always on the verge of being torn out.

The ink bled on our grand pronouncements, already stained with spilled liquor and regret. Our love was scribbled in a drunken stupor; doomed to be crumpled, before the final page.

The nights clawed into mornings; blurred by the burn of cheap liquor and the taste of unshed tears. We built our collapsing fantasies, line by jagged line, only to watch the love dissolve; the story unspool.

And the ending? A perfect feeling— forever just out of reach. We stumbled through the wreckage, beautiful and broken, waiting for the final, brutal edit.]

~ poetry prompt by @scriptastra: we lived like a Fitzgerald draft ~

[jackandjoker]

180 degree longitude passes through us x quotes by @scriptastra

[alosersjournal]

on loving

green flash sunset - noah floersch / haruki murakami / yearning by Dennis W. Rowntree / sunlight by hozier / abstractboots on reddit / within-the-last-minute on tumblr / unknown / fallen-in-love-suggestions on tumblr / scriptastra on tumblr / scriptachaoswithinloss on pinterest / halflivesk666 on tumblr / loveelizabeths on tumblr

[aprotos-mlk]

Mania glows in her abstruse gaze

The storm pours down her cheeks

Who shall save God's angel?

Forlorn in this wrathful world

Where soothing verdure only ignites my rancour for mankind

Where the blue hues of the ocean tramples the figments of my Shangri-la

Aprotos_mlk

From my earlier publications, In The Doldrums by Eimaan Malik

Published in the local newspaper.

@scriptastra

[lunasgayshit]

@scriptastra reminds me of the work you just posted :)

Joy Sullivan, from "Howl", Instructions for Traveling West

[scriptastra]

the lover’s almanac : part one.

[petaltexturedskies]

I discovered the lovely @scriptastra through you and I just wanted to say I think it’s so cool you’re giving modern poets a platform too!! love your blog 🙂

Thanks! Of course, I’m always happy to support writers. Especially if their work resonates with me on some level. It’s a way to help them reach a wider audience and touch more hearts with their beautiful words.

[lilylovelle]

i think you have the best pinterest feed like ever

no pressure tags ! : @bellsash @mayalovestay13 @zorya-reads @brunette4rthangel @pwettysoul @stxrm0on @scriptastra @captainnex @felix2992 @venicecherry @iheartradio8 @cardanpercyhavilliard @4lison222 @annaubade @escarghosted @awwriri @emmaestrella @pearlydolly + anyone else !!

Reblog this post to ask mutuals to tell you their weirdest theory about u

[scriptastra]

[scriptastra]