[wormilu]

the most girl ever

[canvasofthorns]

i have a computer again. balance is restored. :) replies coming ASAP and im sorry for going ghost.

[canvasofthorns]

hi. i have access to a computer for now. ill be active. :) 

[canvasofthorns]

the-thread-of-muses​:

Isabella couldn’t help but to adore about all of the questions that Mary was asking; the elder sister trying her best to stop the smile from widening on her features.

“It depends on the cafe, Mary,” She went to explain, going to find a spare piece of paper to sketch out some of the sweets.

“There could be macaroons, scones, muffins…” As she spoke, she did a quick doodle of what each food item looked like. “Buns, cupcakes, cakes… Many things. If we go there one day, it’s okay if you’re confused. You’ll learn quick - I know you will.”

Big blue doe eyes look over the sketches done hastily, as she sits back on her heels. “Can you tell me outside world stories?” she asks finally, moving to grab a crayon that rested by her sister's knee.

Truthfully this was her favorite game, though she guessed it couldn’t really be called a game. She wonders if Isabella misses it, her home, her life. But figures maybe it isn’t her place to ask, as the person who kept her here.

“Can you tell me a funny one?”

[goldmalheur]

STARTER FOR @canvasofthorns ー ENTER THE GALLERY.

ー

CONTRARY TO popular belief, Riliane did not, in fact, enjoy art galleries. She often saw artwork as boring and lifeless. However, who would have imagined that the little princess would find herself inside of one of those detested galleries, inside of the paintings? She wasn't sure what to do, what to think, and she trembled. Taking it one step at a time, she thought of what to do, closing her eyes to shield herself from the horrors that awaited her.

The frightening giggle of a child younger than herself caused Riliane to SCREAM in alarm, breaking the practiced poise that she had carefully built up over the years. She opened her eyes, slowly, carefully, not expecting to find a young girl in front of her, clutching a yellow rose similar to her own.

"Can... Can I provide any assistance, little one?" She gathered her courage and asked, offering a warm smile.

[canvasofthorns]

She truly never intended to give anyone a fright. It comes with the territory, she guesses. Already frightened, already alone, she wasn't exactly a comfort. Perhaps she liked it that way. An otherworldly touch.

"Did I scare you? I'm sorry. I've been lost for hours, and my mother told me to stay put but I didn't, and now I don't know where she is, and I.. Are you lost too?"

She slowly takes in the girl in front of her, a little bit older, poised, dressed in regal attire that makes her just a tad jealous. Her own dress was a rag, really. Nothing special. "Can we go together?"

[zhuangshii]

❝ time ? ❞ shao raises an eyebrow. perhaps she's amused. perhaps she's being sarcastic. one would take their bet on the latter or both , and win. ❝ what is time to something like me ? time has an effect on everything , every part of you all in the material world. the only way time affects something like me is through seeing what it brings to my doorstep. ❞

❝ you see , hundreds is nothing compared to a thousand - and a thousand is nothing compared to twenty-thousand. twenty-four thousand , two hundred and forty five years. could you imagine living in the world of man for that long ? rarely getting to go home ? never having even a moment's breath to even think of death as an escape ? i can. there's a lot of knowing that comes from merely living anywhere long enough. ❞

❝ all that knowing you've done , and you still can't find a way to escape ? perhaps if you stay here for another hundred years , you'll figure it out~. besides , there's nothing wrong with being here. i prefer so-called monsters to the alternative. ❞

@canvasofthorns // cont. from here.

[canvasofthorns]

A small sigh, “Comparing our own experiences in our own personal versions of hell does nothing.” As eyes trace a pattern on the ceiling. “You think that something like that affects me. That hearing how long you suffered makes me reconsider the depth of my situation.” Her legs start to move, pacing in front of the woman as her tiny voice rings out.

“And, yes, maybe escape has always been just out of my reach. But I don’t intend to stay here for much longer. Because, again, regardless of how this confrontation goes, and who walks away a victor, I will no longer be held in chains, not with your so-called monsters. Finally, the alternative.” She finally stops walking, and with a small smile pursed on her lips, a finger runs against the blade she’s no longer bothering to conceal.

[canvasofthorns]

hi, i drowned my laptop which is how i do my replies. im working out a way to reply with my phone.

[metamorphesque]

musings on loneliness

sylvia plath, nickie zimov, charles bukowski, masashi kishimoto, haruki murakami, holly warburton, charles bukowski, the beatles, nigel van wieck, marta zamarska, sylvia plath, van gogh

if you like this, you can buy me a ☕

[blandura]

via instagram

[llcircell]

Rogier van der Weyden. The Descent from the Cross, detail, c. 1435 Museo del Prado, Madrid

[cinnimint-deactivated20250412]

a paintings demise

[andulkaphoto]

[feral-ballad]

Mary Oliver, from The House of Light; “Lilies”

[Text ID: “I think I will always be lonely / in this world,”]

[canvasofthorns]

𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖗 @snowfeathered . . .

A small hand clutches a doll by its arm, walking along the halls of her home. She hadn't seen anybody in sometime, no spirits wandering the halls, nobody had come through. It was these times that she really grew lonelier. It gnawed at her, so many days passing, so much time crawling by at a snails pace, drawing, and sleeping. She was grateful it didn't happen much, she was happy that it wasn't so bad, but at these moments, she really resented her situation, her Papa, the world.

She stopped at a chair, plopping down in it, staring at the patterns on the wallpaper, making faces in her mind in the velvet damask. The lights flickering above her head, the shadows dancing on the ceiling. The doll jumps a little, and loosens itself from her grip, chirping. "What?" She asks, sounding a lot more irritable than she meant to, looking down at it, splayed out on the floor. "What do you want?" It chirps once more, and she stands to her feet, peering down the darkened hallway. "Hello?" Her voice warbles, echoing against wood floors, as she scoops down to pick the doll up in her hands.

[canvasofthorns]

sangdelune​:

╰  ☾  ☆ * : ･   ⁞    —     ˗ˏˋ                 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 … 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐀 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍. The lack of an EXIT save for the door they had come through only deepened the child’s suspicions that the two of them had gone the WRONG WAY. Nothing more in this room save for some CREEPY paintings.

             A sideways glance was traded towards ONE PAINTING in particular. An odd painting; one that unsettled him more and more as he looked upon it. The painting itself looked much like that of the ladies scattered across the gallery. Yet somehow … the image that the strokes of the paintbrush had created was far, FAR more eerie than the others.

            He couldn’t say he was cultured or well - versed in the fine arts. If one were to ask him to name a single artist, he wouldn’t have been able to. The majority of his life was spent AWAY from the higher classes. What he did know was whoever painted that certain painting had INCREDIBLY poor taste. Did that painting have to be so scary looking ?

            And then … IT MOVES.

            Before the child even fully registered what he was witnessing, a hand tugs upon his own; hurriedly pulling him away. His own eyes remained glued to that CREATURE within the painting. Was that his imagination ? Paintings can’t MOVE, right ? He couldn’t be sure … but he shared those SAME bad feelings as the girl.

            ’ … Yeah ! Let’s go ! Let’s try another way. ‘

            Even as he followed the girl, he kept looking back … just to make sure that painting didn’t move AGAIN.

Her dark blue eyes trail over to him as she takes in his look of pure horror. She almost feels, bad. Chase him to the ends of the earth? Sure. Subject him to the horrors of her home? Yes. But a part of her feels guilty for subjecting him to something, not from here, not in her control, not on her side. And, now she was really starting to regret her choice to put herself in the lions den with him. She should know better than to mess with things beyond her control, if she lives, she's going to get a lashing from a particular red draped woman.

A tiny hand tugs him along as it starts slowly crawling forward, it wasn't slow. She knew it wasn't slow, why is it moving like this? Does it know that they're cornered?.. Her tiny feet start moving toward the door, and as her hand touches the knob, it barrels forward causing her to shriek, her tiny lungs expelling all the air from her body. It slams its frame against the wall, before she can even get the door open. She steps back and looks at him as it stumbles through the room, snarling and hissing. "Do you think it can see us...?" She whispers, fumbling for his hand, as a frame slithers around, looking at the ceiling, looking back at them, but never moving forward toward them.

[canvasofthorns]

the-thread-of-muses​:

A giggle left Isabella’s lips, the woman going to make her doll act the movements of walking. At Mary’s question, she paused and hummed.

“What other stores out there…” She repeated quietly, bringing her spare hand to her lips as she thought. “Well, they could always go to a cafe, or to an art supply shop, or even gallery or supermarket…”

“Oh, maybe they could stop at the cafe.” She hums. “What kind of stuff is there?” A tiny voice wonders aloud, and sets her doll down, pondering the question. One of the greater mysteries of the day.

 “I know about coffee, and I know about pastries. What kind of pastries are there?” She sits up, holding her frame on her knees. “I wish I knew more. What if one day we go, and I’m confused?”

[the-jamless-one]

some guy idk........................