#take me back to Eden by sleep token was big for this piece

[haileyroseart]

Doing my part in comforting the disturbed and disturbing the comfortable

[dark--whisperings]

8, 34, 39!

(for the ask game found here... feel free to submit an ask!)

8. What song would make a great fic (to either write or read)?

OOOOOOOH I have the perfect answer for this one.

I would say 'The Apparition' by Sleep Token. I'm OBSESSED with them, and their album 'Take Me Back to Eden' is one I have on repeat frequently. And the lyrics... damn the lyrics are SO GOOD. I already have two fics titled after their songs... 👀

@mischievouschan4 and I also have a cowritten piece planned, that was inspired by lyrics to this song. We haven't started it yet (both of us have so many projects on the go at the moment), but we're excited to share more about this once it starts to materialize. All I have to say at the moment about it is... Kenobi-era Vaderkin. 😈😇

Also as an aside... most of my fics are actually inspired by song lyrics, or the feelings I get from listening to certain music. And a fun fact... I usually try to use the title of the fic somewhere within the plot!

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34. What aspects of your writing are inspired by/taken from your real life?`

I love that you asked this question! Because... I would say that most of my writing is influenced by real life, either a situation I've experienced myself (a lot of my BDSM fic is inspired by my own experiences, scenes I've watched in person, or something I'd like to experience) or a feeling that I want to explore further (I apply it to a fic scenario so that I can delve into it). I find writing very cathartic in this way.

'Suffocate Me (I'm Still Breathing)' is absolutely one of these. It is intended to pay homage to my own experience with PTSD, and it's been extremely healing to look back on the past and dig into things from a place of growth and positive change.

'the way you bend, the way you break' is another of one. CNC is one of my favourite kinks IRL and... lets just say I had a bad experience with in in the past. So, I wrote what I would have wanted to experience instead as a way to make peace with it!

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39. Is any aspect of your writing process inspired by other writers or people? If so, who?

Hrmm... I wouldn't say that my writing is inspired by any other writers specifically. When I write, I try to stay true to my own unique style and sound. Though, I'm a big fan of using new and interesting words. So if I stumble across one, I add it to a running list I have, so that I can expand my vocabulary in the future!

[skele8rity]

🎶✨when you get this, put 5 songs you actually listen to, then publish. Send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (positivity is cool)🎶✨ HEHEHEHEHEH 💖😎

tumblr deleted my response the first time i tried answering this 🙃 i wrote a nice long message about how this was really nice and unexpected but the gist of it was it was really sweet and im grateful, thank you for sending one fjdjf

rain; unprocessed. a really unique sound and incredible writing from the whole band but id be lying if i didnt say the guitar and vocals were very attention grabbing to me! an emotional pick but one im really fond of. also theres gays in the video and thats a win for me, even if its a tragic song and narrative! (cheating but you should also see deadrose. i go crazy for the video every time)

stranger things; periphery. im insane for peripherys sound overall actually but this is imo one of their most fun to listen to, interesting songs. many different parts that still manage to stay cohesive. i think the shifts between the FUCKING METAL and the pretty parts are really good. fun lyrics. i follow the drummer on youtube. misha too. the guitarists are insane??? drift compatible. chef kiss very good

king; tesseract. another one i go insane for, and also really love to pop on the stereo when i hop in the car. im not kidding i turn it up all the way sometimes until i can literally feel my bones rattling JFJSKG its very good. another band absolutely WILD at shifting smoothly between these absolutely gorgeous pieces and FUCKING METAL... and another instance where i really love the drummer lmfaooo he does these really cool polyrhythms i just. BRBRBRBvrbrbrbr. i go crazy for. King. Powertrip Music. enjoy.

dark eternal night; dream theater. ive been listening to them my whole life but i didnt get brain cells to recognize it until like... octavarium? first live concert was the album that this song comes off of and motherfucker i set the bar high for everyone else forever LMFAO dream theater scratches the brain like truly nothing else. mike portnoy might not be in the band anymore but im so glad he was here for this album because the sound is perfect.

euclid; sleep token. i had to add sleep token because i saw that you listen to them at least a little bit. when i heard the ending of euclid i cried. this whole album is good. preceded by take me back to eden? this song hits like a goddamn train, but so does the rest of the album. a lot of variation in it! but thats what prog is about 😭 euclid changed my life and my brain chemistry, forever ascending over the fact it reprises my first BIG favorite song from them at the end. annihilated me. will do it again.

[nightwingvixen23]

Pairing : DamiJon fanfic in their later teens

Little Vixen Side Note : Wrote this piece a few nights ago when I couldn't sleep and came across the dark version of Cant Help Falling In Love; which is what I wrote it to

Cheeecckkk ittttt ouuutttt

A speeding bullet of black, yellow and green. He blew ahead of me in a chase throughout the thick of winter. Skeletal remains of my heart began to drop, all signs of epic violence tittering around us in pursuance of the two malefactors we had just minutes prior unmasked who's carnage stained hands were laying hell into the legs of a screaming woman, in attempts at victimizing her to a two-sided brutality. And though be as it may, with her browbeaten crying, this ambushed petite woman of golden curls had torn like a vicious feline to free herself from the drooling lock jaws of famished wolves refusing to die in this wasted city. Then she'd stopped. She'd turned her head towards us. And it was with that act of final defeat, the deadlock of her blue eyes onto Damians, that had been a tethering of empathetic steel.

In that moment, I'd witnessed the city burn within his eyes. A revival of Pompeii, humans choking on ash; and it was by his hand that carried out was this biblical apocalypse. I mean, you can only stand to see so many weeds in your garden before getting tired of yanking them out by hand and simply just mowing over it all to start fresh.

I'd numbly watched Robin free the woman who'd scurried down the dark street (purse and shoe forgotten like a broken Cinderella) and analyzed where the rules of these unbidden streets lingered any longer ? A wasted land left starved of God's Love long ago, and so us as his children are outcasts in regards to just how mortality works. This is The Devils playground now where we've adapted into calling out Love, not by the blossoming virtue of a budding rose, but by the cut of it's petalless thorns; where the only splash of red comes at the blooming of our own blood. 

What else to do with pain than to make it our art form, our very own self worth. To turn it into a purpose and to make that purpose something beautiful.

⏳...⌛

A park.

Swings creaking with a glacial slow breeze as ghost children play games on the teeter totter. White fluff born from clouds shroud lost personal belongings from humans long past through, and will overnight, do it's best, to shroud the two bodies lay dead 'mid this park's jogging trail.

He stands between them; The Sympathizer, a crimson splattered god in which no Olympian can put a name to crowned in injustices and liberalizing duties.

Crows form a murder beneath these dark skies, dancing and entangling above our heads. Something cruel. Something elegant. Something in harmony with what I behold here and now; because somewhere off in Gotham City this man, that I've fallen in a surprise trust fall for, remarkably kept a young woman home-free tonight. Not from duty. But from instinct.

"Robin.."

He turns to me.

He sheaths his sword; and he smiles.

He smiles at me through tears.

He smiles at me through red blood.

He smiles at me through falling snow.

He smiles at me through the antagonism; and that has to be the most beautiful thing I think I've ever seen.

Regardless; i still wonder what chamber door, dusted with years of abandonment, had finally been gifted a hand to open it's rusted impasse come with what we'd witnessed tonight. What poisonous blend leaks out this door to flood his veins and pour fever into his eyes; clouding his vision against a better form of judgment on justice that has two miserable assed men, twice his size, laying slaughtered like pigs with him standing noble between them both ?

Even though the winter wonderland park is dead quiet, I've never in all my existence heard so much noise. So much all at once while staring at Damian, just now realizing that he'd removed his mask long ago: now raven's stare with deadly ink eyes in jealous passion at the too black fullness of that jet hair filled up in a shaven bun. Cat's whine in envy at the feline-like features of this clandestine face. Jade gems rust in sad defeat before such green eyes. He's the pristine vision of Talia al Ghul (nothing about him is Bruce anymore aside from the cut of his jaw) housing 9 lives amidst 100 secrets.

"I love you," like the many times I've voiced it before, it gushes from me all soft and rushed.

"You love me? You love me?? Don`t," and there is coldness in his stare. Floating all the while amongst the arctic, I've struck the iceberg. Sinking under. Cracked in two. And I've got to say, the embrace is haunting.

"Why."

"It is true that the lion coddled the lamb beneath its purring chin, bustling with a protective big paw. Be as it may, unbeknownst to the onlookers, once turned away; the lion gorged on the lamb. Feasted upon its frail body only to lick at its bloodied carcass and keep it close by. Not in memory, but as a trophy; for the lion`s former coddling of the lamb was nothing more than animalistic curiosity.

"Do you not realize Jon that we are all animals, you and I ? Instinct drives us, some however are more lethal, some run in packs, some run alone, and others...just….run." green devours me. Green tears through my flesh. Green swallows me whole. Perhaps I am but being gorged upon by the starving lion.

His lips curl into a sadistic sneer despite the tear tracks on his face and I'm all but floored by the fabric skin of this demon that everyone's tried to give a halo, "I will rip you apart, little lamb."

"Then by all means," I grab his hand to wrap it around my throat, it's cold but his grip is tight and his lips on mine are hot, "take my neck to slaughter."

Five fingers tremble in innocence against my throat; a golden token of humanity, honesty and clemeity. Making my wonder

just who really here is the lion and who is the lamb? Then he bares his teeth, rabid and wild. I bare my teeth back, standing ground in the middle of our Eden turned Jungle. Then our lips meet again. Our teeth clash. We fight to force the other into submission though neither backs down.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe, he is but a lamb that learned to evolve amongst the lions. And could it be that I am but a lion having learned to secret himself amongst sheep? Maybe that's why him and I fight more than find common ground, for the foolish costumes we were taught to wear in order to cover up what rightful creatures God bore us as.

We are different and the same whether it be his purity or my hidden away corruption.

The volcanic eruption of his anger and soothing temperament of my ocean meet. 

They form an isle.

A match to an ignition causes an inevitable explosion. But, sometimes, that match plus ignition can give birth to fireworks rather than a bomb; we've just gotta be patient and count to 3. I count to 2 before seeing the spark. And right at 3 comes the crackle then pop, a raining shower of diabolical color transcending the stark black sky.

Who ever would of known that 4th of July in the middle of December would  look so much like Heaven waging war with Hell.

                                               ⌛...⏳

No one is home execpt for me to answer the chipper knock at the front door on the next sun smothered day, and the florist that greets me is happy to do so.

In my hands I'd received my gift of a crimson rose bouquet;

and while up in my room i'd read the card written on with an elegant gothic flourish:

                     My Little Lamb.

These three words made the wool wearing prey in me seek sanctuary, and yet, caused the dagger toothed predator in me to roar.

 *END