Ink made of shadows

Words that fogs the mirror of mind

[nyx-tenberis]

"When no expression or action can tell what you might have felt.., Probably this is when we start talking through poem.."

[nyx-tenberis]

A Moment...

Flores rushed towards the kitchen at the sound of her kettle's angry whistles. Careless as always, she accidentally stubbed her toe on the chair leg in her hurry.

She slowly picked up the steaming kettle and poured the water into a cup. The kitchen filled with the fine aroma of roasted beans as she opened the coffee box. After taking an appreciative deep breath, she added exactly one tablespoon of that instant coffee into the cup.

Flores stood there, watching as the coffee dissolved, colouring the water first into a very gentle crimson gold, then slowly turning it into a brown as if dark oak could be melted into liquid.

Holding her coffee in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other, she walked towards the balcony and placed them on the little table in front of a wooden chair.

Then, walking back inside the room, a book on her desk caught her attention. The Setting Sun

She had read that book once already, yet picked it up again. With a pillow tucked under her arm, she switched off the lights behind her.

The sun was setting, painting the evening sky in soft pink, its rays texturing the clouds into a slightly dreamy haze. Flores adjusted the cushion on the chair before settling down in it. She lifted the cup, taking a bitter-hot sip.

Placing the book in her lap and turning through the pages, she started reading... again. Maybe it's because she believes in a line from her favourite novel.

"A story changes every time you read it..."

[nyx-tenberis]

Making Hell of Heaven..

I once read a quote in the office while working on my reports:

"The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven."

They really do print anything in the name of corporate motivation nowadays. How is that thing supposed to make me feel better about making spreadsheets on this computer? Instead, now I am busy thinking about how it is actually relatable... but partially.

I don't know if my mind is delusional enough to make a heaven of hell.

But I suppose that is what Mother means when she talks about the beauty of life. Oh, but sure... turning a heaven into hell? I believe in that part, with all my heart, if I still have it.

My mind does quite a lot of things for its own good, and I never actually mind wherever it is wandering.

But there is this one thing I can't tolerate, and my mind, like some spoiled brat, keeps on repeating the same thing...

remembering..

How good it would have been if I were remembering some tragic, pitiful past... then I would sit under moonlight and put my despair on paper like some Victorian-era poet. Oof...

But what do I have?

These random, ordinary memories... no, scenes with emotional notes so dull a piano teacher died in the background.

Just like this one time. All of my co-workers were chatting at the lunch table, while I was busy seeing this scene on repeat...

...

My father waking me up, asking me to prepare breakfast.

I remember I was pretty tired from staying up late at night... yet I sighed and got out of bed.

Afterwards, Mom asking for help with packing lunches, my sister asking me to switch on the Wi-Fi...

"Nicea, where's the comb? Nicea, did you see my charger?"

And that me? She just kept moving without speaking much... not because she couldn't deny or anything, just that speaking was exhausting. It still is..

Mother asked my brother to clean his room. He said he was busy... I remember Mother smiling, trying to convince him.

That somehow made me feel disgusting.

Hm... must be how dirty his room was.

I remember how she stepped aside into her room and picked up her pencil... why does she always feel like drawing when tired? Weirdo.

Exactly then, Dad called out to eat together, I denied it because... I don't remember the because..

Dad said something to Mom, she spoke back to him. The topic of their conversation was definitely their ruined teenage daughter.

Then a sharp call:

"How shamelessly you are hearing this and still not apologising!"

Oh, so I was supposed to apologise here? Tch. Stupid... Why am i not just saying it already? wasting time like this..

"You can't even eat with your parents anymore, you have become heartless, Nicea!"

...

"Nicea!"

I heard someone calling my name. No... it's not my mother, it's my manager.

Guess I am going back to making reports from this old theatre...

[fish-with-autism]

mmmm fuck it lets start a tag game. INTRODUCE THYNE SELF Name - Rob

Age range - 13-18

Pronouns - they/he

Are you a system? - Yes!

Are you taken? If they have tumblr, tag them! - Yes!! @wowiezowie100

Favorite book? - The Metamorphosis

Favorite movie? - Electric Dreams (1984)

Top three fandoms? - DSaF, TDLoSK, and Regretevator!

Favorite music artist(s)? - Will Wood, Lemon Demon, That Handsome Devil, Femtanyl, and Fish in a Birdcage!

Who inspires you? - My moots and my grandma :) and my wife!!!!!

If you're an OC creator, name three of your OCs! - Gary, Toaster, and Sebastian :)

TAG YOUR MOOTS!!! @super-autism-death-ray @this-tired-guy @mantisshr1mp @lemonshark1e @titty-tot @vessel-of-enphoso @punart05 @retro-spring @ibleedglitterandrainbows @kettlemine @localjumperz @wowiezowie100 + open tags !!!!

[nyx-tenberis]

^^ thanks for the tag @max-the-commander..

Name: i forgot, wait lemme go check again..

Age range: 5-50..

Pronouns: she/her

Are you a system: idk what that's supposed to mean..

Fav book: Omniscient reader's viewpoint

Fav movie: I don't have any favourites..

Top 3 fandoms: I don't stan anything consistently.. my interest keeps changing.

Fav music artist: recently i am obsessing over the neighbourhoods

Who inspires you: ngl Myself, and the most random things ever..

3 OCs I've made: Nicea and Astēr, tho they are just in my drafts.. and idk if we can also count victor in this. ..

I'll be tagging ☆..

@themudbloodradio , @knight-qoheleth , @wrentalks , @ashesinverses , @humanconditionpoetry , @pasthalfsquid ^~^..

[nyx-tenberis]

Watching the bunny..

I watch, standing a few feet away..

The jackal within the lion selling narratives,

forcing a tiger skin on the little bunny.

Forging another him. Isn't it lovely?

I wonder, standing a few feet away..

Does the lion know?.. the thing beating under his ribs

is a jackal's cowardice, with the rhythm of pride..

Does the bunny know?.. the frame he looks into,

assuming a mirror, holds the tiger's feral image..

I listen, standing a few feet away..

A bunny's desperate attempt to roar,

a frustrated cry carrying what words don't.

A jackal's command from within the lion,

a demand to inherit his legacy of clouds.

And again..

I watch, standing a few feet away..

[nyx-tenberis]

Her..

She died at 12.

I was alone at her funeral.

Her ghost haunting me for a year,

suffocating—nothing was feeling dear.

Until “I” changed its shape.

No longer the same, it's difficult to name:

Wise as a tattered ancient book,

Or fragile as a wet clay-mold.

Either way we can’t deny

the torment it was to reach this line.

...

[greenleaf4stuff]

Favourite Blorbo Tag Game

Make a poll with 5 of your all-time favourite characters and find out who is the most popular. Then tag 5 (or more) people to do the same.

Thank you so much for the tag @janacariad! <3

Who is the No. 1 guy?

Captain Flint (Black Sails)

Adar (Rings of Power)

Artemy Burakh (Pathologic/Pathologic 2/Pathologic 3)

Void/Assassin (Marathon 2026)

Bad Grief (Pathologic 2/Pathologic 3)

Voting ended onMay 10

Zero Pressure Tags: @ailendolin @radiant-sunlight-blueberry @illegalcerebral @fandomsfanman @niku30 @siliziumtraeume @thephoenixandthecrocodile @wowstrawberrycow @makeshiftdraco @gauntletgirlie @daughterofthesunlands @erulasse23 @assortedvariety and whoever else wants to play! <3

[assortedvariety]

Thank you for the tag @greenleaf4stuff , here goes (this marks me as quite old 🤭):

who's your fave?

John Watson (BBC Sherlock)

Selina Meyer (veep)

Dwight Schrute (the office)

Elrond Peredhel (trop)

Willow Rosenberg (BTVS)

Voting ended onMay 11

Tagging @ffigwit @xximmortalkissxx @hikarielizabethbloom @a-sweet-potato-63 @makeshiftdraco @koyaildoesstuff @mostchalantcinderella-gladiator

[mostchalantcinderella-gladiator]

So who's the real icon?

Snow White

Elsa

David ( The House of David)

Elena Gilbert (in the show)

Anakin Skywalker

Voting ended onMay 11

I know, I know, but the closer you get to your original exposure to media, the more accurate insight you'll gain. - says science, not me

To all my Tolkien stans, I have some very high profile candidates for my top but I insist on first READING THE SILMARILLION and some other Legendarium stuff so bear with me guys, please!

Until then, some honourable mentions:

Finrod and his sister (he only has the one and it was about time we refered to her as Finrod's sister instead of only the other way around just this once, Gal would have wanted this in honour of her beloved Finrod),

Aragorn x Arwen x Elrond (Aragorn's fam)

Luthien

Tagging @dreamerva16 @dracos-tacos @eye-of-mordor @iconicament3 @willowaus @victoriacapo @aroacebaggins @reyjakestherapist @testyqwcde @kibutsulove @christine-daae-could-post-it-sir @batsinthebasement @simonabrunilde @hikarielizabethbloom @princessfantaghiro @cherrymagdalene @curiousscribetalon @moo1982 @helenvader @myfavouritelunatic @supernovacocorocha @notnocturne @wickedrum @hotc0coa @loulialy @poopsiekitten @knight-qoheleth @sauronianer @morgulscribe @coraleethroughthelookingglass @jinrosemoon @fatcatlittlebox @gauntletgirlie @twelfthofnever1-blog @80siconic @halfdeadgf

[knight-qoheleth]

Thank you for the 🏷️ @mostchalantcinderella-gladiator 🪄⚔️

Who’s the legendary icon?

Madara Uchiha

Lord Sauron

(BBC) Sherlock Holmes

Achilles

Jon Snow

Voting ended onMay 6

I will be passing this game to :-

@foofendale

@faemaril 💛😘

@fallencalliope

@wrentalks

@nyx-tenberis

@alienbloodheart

@monet-poetry

@lores-things

@echo-temporis

@cathedral-of-grief

@hiddencastle3

@inked-soull

@kaneshaandrews

@lisgoe

@ninesinnin

@pomegranatedecay

@thetypewriterdaily

[nyx-tenberis]

^^ Thank you for tagging me @knight-qoheleth <3..

do you know any of them?..

Mr. Fool (Lord of the mysteries)

The Oldest Dream (Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint)

Tony stark (Marvel universe)

Gabimaru (Hell's Paradise)

Johan Liebert (Monster)

Voting ended onMay 9

I'll be tagging..

@themudbloodradio @wrentalks , @ashesinverses , @humanconditionpoetry , @pasthalfsquid ^~^..

[nyx-tenberis]

It might look.. good

It was finally lunch hour. Everyone closed their monitors, some left in groups towards the cafeteria.. and some brought homemade food. The crowd around Miss Marry's desk.. hm, seems like she again brought her self-baked cookies. I always found them too sweet for my taste.

Emilia was walking over.. and oh, did she get a new haircut?

"Hey, Nicea. You done? Let's go out for lunch."

Ah.. she sure did. It's slightly shorter..

"Uh, no.. I am sorry. I still have a report to make"

Layers.. huh? Hm, suits her.

... ..

An hour had passed, and my work didn't seem to end anytime soon.

Maybe I should take a break?.. no, then I'll be late again and- oh the seam of my shirt was coming loose.. hmm, buying a new one? Nah, I rarely find this shade of black in the market.. I can just sew this myself..

For now, just breaking this loose thread should be enough.. ugh, it was stronger than I thought.. but I would keep this, seems nice.

... ..

There's again a big queue for the coffee machine.. I'll just go when there isn't much rush. .. the weather outside is.. sunny, how exhausting. ..

This reminded me.. didn't I read a post on Reddit yesterday? What was it again?.. umm what if.. what if I could be.. be.. ugh. oh yeah, what if I could be a bird for one day. Huh, people really are strange.. why would you want to be a bird? ... Hm.., what if I get the opportunity to be something for a day?.. not a bird obviously.. something else, .. hmm.. maybe.. maybe crazy?

Yeah.. if I could be, then I would like to go crazy.. it wouldn't really matter what excuse I would have on my side.. anxiety, stress, trauma.. anything. And if I do go crazy.. then, yeah. I like sewn patterns. Mhm.. and black thread should look cool.. against my flesh. Yes.. Tho need to be careful, wouldn't want any bloody mess.. Tch. How troublesome it would be to clean it afterwards..

Anyways, the red reminded me, I need to buy apples on my way back home. I almost forgot about it. And yeah.. a mess, but black thread with dripping red? Huh.. that would be cool.

... ..

What else? .. what else do I need to buy.. hmm.. well, what else would I do after sewing? I don't really know.. maybe, decoration? Yeah.. decoration.. blue teeth marks might.. look good on my skin..hm. Ah, yeah.. in that post, those strange people also gave reasons, why they want to be a bird.. huh, still doesn't justify a boring choice.. as for me.. well I.. I don't really know..

I don't really know why I would do this... Umm but like, that person who asked this question.. yeah, they wouldn't have had a reason either, right? Like, who even asks such a time-wasting question.. yet they did. So I guess.. I also don't need one?.. mhm maybe. Still, If I could, I might actually do it merely because, well.. it might look good. Anyhow, I still need to finish this report by nine. Tch.

...

Note- if you can, please do share your thoughts.

[nyx-tenberis]

The singing river..

Every person waits to sing their song.

Give them the right lighting, a stage—

they sing- like an unbound river in voice.

Don’t expect them to stop,

to listen if you are singing too.

I watch, stepping back—

not wanting to get wet.

Unless I choose to step into

your flowing river myself.

[nyx-tenberis]

Seven deadly sins judgment

7# Sloth

A punishment for your complicit betrayal of self,

Grave worms feeding on your flesh.

Bleeding regret with every gnawing bite,

Digging into the red, revealing the white.

Escape ... Revoked by distorted legs.

A cry ... Sealed in suffocating scream.

Hollow and alone; the remains of yourself.

[vixiestarfrost]

Tag Game!

choose an emoji for the person that tagged you! Make sure it matches them!

Oh and people pls tag me so I can do it to!

(For example, I f Vicky tagged me I would choose and emoji that I think fits her best.)

@potatoanarchist @obsidiansandwich @vickysnowpawz @yourlocalavian @violetrosiecookiesleepydemon @cosmoseyekon

@l-zah1ra @lunathetunaaa @glitterfluid @kaihasmoreswagthanyou3

Open tags!

[l-zah1ra]

Ooooh :3

💝

@vinceclaires @just-call-mefr1es @fineilldoitmyself621 @auxsillyyyyyary @v01dshark @potatoanarchist @k4rmaftw @corvid4real

[corvid4real-deactivated20260428]

This was a hard decision but I think that ✏️ would be the emoji I pick to describe you, because a lot of your posts come off in an almost "academic" way if that makes sense /pos

@f4d3d-starz @heartattackinblackdye @meoweenk @melancholic-whimsy @l1fe1sp0ppli0 @empress-azrae1 + open tags !!!!

[melancholic-whimsy]

🐦‍⬛

because ur user is corvid and thats the latin term for crow i believe :3

@whatthekoi @vita-min-buniii @finla2 @raskoln1kovsaxe @needlestos4y @clownies-coffee-addiction-pt2 @puppy-exe-stopped-responding @silvertrail-forgotten @just-me-alon3

[just-me-alon3-deactivated202604]

🌀 it’s pretty like your pfp

@themudbloodradio @ohyouuglylittlefucker @puppy-exe-stopped-responding @whatthekoi @vincian4 +open tags!

[themudbloodradio]

🥭 Your blog theme is adorable!

@queenmelinoe @justherefortheshipart @nyx-tenberis @miacosmicx + open tags!

[nyx-tenberis]

^^ Thanks for the tag @themudbloodradio ..

Ig these two are fitting.. 📷 ✨ . ..

@knight-qoheleth , @wrentalks , @stfuandreaa , @ashesinverses , @humanconditionpoetry , @pasthalfsquid ^~^..

[nyx-tenberis]

The pastry..

A man in his 50s wakes up from his sleep as he hears the sound of footsteps approaching him. Thick leather boots against rough cemented floor.

The prison guard stopped before the cell of a death-sentenced prisoner, holding a pastry.

... ..

Victor. He has been living in prison for 15 yrs. 15 yrs of surviving this mortal hell, 15 yrs of patience.. waiting for this day.

He doesn't even remember at which point the food stopped being tasteless for him, the thin mattress was no longer like cold stone, and when the loneliness started to feel... comfortable. ..

It was his last day today, last day of prison, last day of pain, last day of his life.

When asked for a last wish, he requested..

"a single butter-scotch pastry from doux amour bakery.."

The guard pulled out a cluster of keys with a faint jangling sound and opened Victor's cell to give him the pastry. But what Victor was holding right now was not just a dessert for him..

His cold metal fork glides smoothly against the warm pastry, as if slicing a piece of cloud. The first bite making his eyes shut on their own.. the flavors unfolding slowly; vanilla cream pooled silkenly on his tongue, the perfect mix of brown sugar and rich butter.. a texture which clung to the roof of his mouth.

He still remembers this feeling, this essence.. this same taste on every special occasion 15 yrs ago.. the voice calling out his name just as sweet.. the soft hands making dessert and memories..

Golden pearl crunches delicately between his teeth. It's almost like time folded around this moment.. sweetness wrapping his senses slowly, soft and freeing.

With the last bite a single bead of tear dropped from his eye.. as something inside him finally found its missing piece.

Victor set the fork on his plate whispering softly into the thin air;

"She still bakes this same as she used to... fifteen years ago.."

...

[nyx-tenberis]

Calm or Calm..

The thousand-year-old ocean;

Clear water, moving slowly… mirroring stillness

The pond, still for a thousand years;

Green water, sitting quietly… mirroring calmness

The calm of the Ocean… even the weights are floating over.

The calm of the pond… even the shadows are sinking in.

The solace.. which often gets oblivioned.

The venom.. which often gets treasured.

[nyx-tenberis]

What do you want to be remembered for?

-anon 💀

^^ Hey 💀anon! thanks for the ask..

I’ll answer this as being remembered after death, because the answer would obviously be slightly different from what it would be while I’m still living.

As far as I can remember, I’ve always known that I wanted to be remembered even after my death.

Why? I didn’t know. How exactly? Still no clear answer.

When I started thinking about this question, it led me through several others. And in the very end: is this really what I want to be remembered for?... ..

What I came across was this:

It doesn’t really matter to me in what role I’m remembered. If life is a story, then I don’t mind being someone’s foil, someone else’s side character, maybe even a villain, a guide, or even a non-existent type.

So then, what actually matters?

When I live.. intentionally or unintentionally, I paint you and the spaces I inhabit with my colours, sometimes even just slightly.

I’m fine if you forget the name of the painter or the face. If you felt the wrong texture, or perceived the wrong shade.

But don’t confuse my colour with some other painter’s palette.

Don’t remember me, but know it’s me.

Still, I have more experiences to earn. And as time progresses, I’ll have more lessons to learn. Obviously, with growth, my answer to this question will shift.

Have a great day ahead! ^~^..

[nyx-tenberis]

The coward..

That blush-pink pearl bead you placed in those hands..

What made you think a coward can hold them?

The hands shake, tremble, and then mumble slowly,

"This is.. a fake gem"

Repeating its scripted contemn.

So let me ask you again..

What made you think a coward can hold them?

[hybriddhthepoet]

The Sandwich We All Eat

We are not clean inside,

not polished as we look in passing glass.

Our heads are cupboards left ajar,

mould creeping on bread meant for better days,

meat slick with the sheen of rot,

but still wrapped,

still waiting.

And the strangest part:

we know it.

We know the bread’s gone stale,

we know the smell is wrong,

yet hunger gnaws louder than reason,

and the ache inside is older than the meal.

I pick up the sandwich anyway.

It droops in my hands,

leaves crumbs like small confessions

on the table of my ribs.

I chew.

Slow at first, then desperate.

The taste is an old argument.

The taste is a prayer I’ve forgotten the words to.

Across from me, you do the same.

Your eyes flicker like a stormlight bulb

but your hands keep moving:

lift, bite, chew, swallow.

We don’t speak.

We don’t have to.

We’re all at the same table,

breaking bad bread together,

trying to feed something

that won’t stay fed.

It hurts.

It hurts to eat,

it hurts to not eat.

It hurts to know

there’s no clean kitchen waiting,

no fresh loaf cooling on a windowsill somewhere

just for us.

It hurts to know

that starving and swallowing

lead to the same kind of hollow.

But still,

we force ourselves to solve one problem.

We decide hunger is worse than sickness,

or at least simpler.

We bite down,

because pain has two faces

and we’re tired of staring at the one called Empty.

Yet somewhere inside,

some tiny voice wonders

what would happen

if we set the sandwich down.

If we let hunger ache

without trying to quiet it.

If we stopped choosing

between starving and poisoning.

If we simply—

for once—

stayed empty,

stayed waiting,

stayed open.

But that’s a thought for another day.

Today we chew.

Today we eat.

Today we keep the ritual alive.

Because even in its sickness,

it’s still a ritual.

Because even in its rot,

it’s still something warm in our hands.

We are all a little ruined,

bread gone bad, meat gone wrong,

but we pass the plate anyway,

take our bites,

and call it living.

[nyx-tenberis]

Why do we lie to people when they just wanna help us?

-anon 💀

^^ Hey there, thanks for the ask ..

Sorry for the late reply.. I was busy with some work ><..

As for your question—

There can be several reasons for this, and most of them differ from person to person.

However, I believe all these reasons share the same core: fear of being seen.

When I first saw this ask, it reminded me of a stanza from my poem “Strange Assembly,” where I talked about the same fear.

When we know that a person wants to help us and yet we lie, it’s often because the thing in question is an inner truth which we have been guarding for too long.

Maybe because, in the past, life told us that if it’s not guarded, then it’s not safe.

We lie because.. maybe we aren’t ready.

We lie because.. maybe we don’t trust them enough yet.

We lie because.. maybe we think they won’t be able to hold it.

And yet, none of this means that “the day where we don’t have to lie” won’t come. ..

I think inner self-truths are like precious pearls to us.. which we guard in a seashell. A shell so strong that it doesn’t crack when we don’t trust the hand knocking.

But, when there’s a hand which is able to hold the pearl in a beautiful pendant, then maybe we should slowly… open it up. ..

Have a good day ahead ^~^..