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Rockwell Kent

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that was lowkey churlish and ribald but i'm still amenable to you

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doré's depictions of london are like an emotion of themselves to me

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People talk about Elsa's "Let it Go" moment having killed the men of the Terror and the Erebus, but it goes farther than that. That same historically cold winter of 1846/1847 also caused so much snow that it led to an infamous American tragedy, as I learned when I read the nonfiction work The Indifferent Stars Above.

If Elsa killed the Terror and Erebus men, then she also doomed the Donner Party.

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You, the one I left behind If you ever walk this way Come and find me lying in the bed I made

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there will be blood? like. you promise?

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Emily Dickinson, from her poem titled "1188," featured in The Emergency Poet

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Average British Fantasy Author of the 20th Century: Born in Hong Kong, raised in Singapore, Kingston and Oxford, he kissed his first girl at the tender age of 38. He spent 23 years obsessively writing notes for his epic masterwork, the Sword of Gormenlia series, with elements drawn from Indian mysticism, Arthurian mythos, Surrealist poetry, Victorian racism and Radical beliefs[?]. He died in Cyprus where he owned the world's most beautiful houseboat.

Average American Fantasy Author of the 20th Century: Born on the border between Ohio and Montana, Wizjeremiah VanderMcDercken, better known by his pseudonym John "Wizard" Whiteman, was raised in a ghost town and was the only citizen of his county who could read. At the age of 14, he stole a car and drove 30 hours straight to New York City to send his first story "The Alien was Really a Man" to Astounding Stories, for which he was paid a whopping 12$. A string of successes followed, including "The Man was Really a Robot" "The Alien was Really a Wizard" and "The Wizard is Really a Man When You Think About It". He harassed Samuel R. Delany for twelve years over a mild criticism of one of his now out-of-print novels. Died in Yonkers where he had a condo.

Average Canadian Fantasy Author of the 20th Century: Born just outside of Toronto

Average French Fantasy Author of the 20th Century: Despite publishing over 170 novels over a period of fifty years, no one outside of France, or indeed within France, knows who Jean Messac is. Left on the steps of a convent in the south of France, he soon learned to hate the nuns, the books in the local library, Parisians, Americans, specifically the citizens of Syria, the Dominican Republic and Bulgaria, the French literary establishment, Regionalist writers, Sartre, De Gaulle, Casimir, anyone who appeared on TV, Radio, Newspapers and Photographs. He lived in a shoebox gifted to him as a joke from André Breton. He was a high school teacher and wrote for a variety of magazines and publishers, was institutionalized three times and was a Majdanek survivor. His books have all been translated in Russia and Japan following a popular JRPG adapting his saga "Pox-Children of the Kamchadals". He died in the same city where he spent his entire life at the age of 64.

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The World, Off its Axis (portrait of the Director)

A piece based on Authority by Jeff Vandermeer, 2014

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What Flows Through His Icy Veins - Submitted by alliveirrr

#553D36 #684A52 #857885 #87A0B2 #A4BEF3

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THE SHIPFITTER’S WIFE

I loved him most when he came home from work, his fingers still curled from fitting pipe, his denim shirt ringed with sweat and smelling of salt, the drying weeds of the ocean. I’d go to where he sat on the edge of the bed, his forehead anointed with grease, his cracked hands jammed between his thighs, and unlace the steel-toed boots, stroke his ankles and calves, the pads and bones of his feet. Then I’d open his clothes and take the whole day inside me — the ship’s gray sides, the miles of copper pipe, the voice of the foreman clanging off the hull’s silver ribs. Spark of lead kissing metal. The clamp, the winch, the white fire of the torch, the whistle, and the long drive home.

DORIANNE LAUX

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*trying to solve a friend's problem* hmmm. well you could use me as a blade, perhaps? and slay your enemies? just a thought

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don't think I could come back from someone telling me I'm hard to love. and that I did it to myself