#final goodbyes

[emotional-landmines]

😪

[andiwatchyourlifeinpictures]

goodbyes.

you'd think I have gotten used to saying goodbyes

in society corridors and in dread filled rooms

you'd think I have gotten used to saying goodbyes

with tear stained letters and paints on canvas

but then how do I explain the void that spreads

and the memories that start to fade

the more I try to hold on, the more it slips away

slowly, without any notice and then all at once

you'd think I have gotten used to saying goodbyes

of visits that I didn't know would be the last

of the last 'bye' on a call would be the last of all

you'd think I have gotten used to saying goodbyes

asking them to come back, to never wanting to see their face again

because how do you get used to saying "I haven't heard from them in a year"

when they show up in your dreams, making true all of your fears

you'd think I have gotten used to saying goodbyes

but in truth it has taken away a part of me everytime

because to say goodbye is to die a little.

~A.

[sunsmemories]

red spider lilies lined up your walls,

the colour too deep,

too familiar–

you fumble as you squeeze out your lungs,

biting your tongue to stop the welling of your tears.

it’s okay, it’s okay,

but no one has ever said that you.

red spider lilies lined up your walls,

decay breaching from your windows

and death sitting on your doorstep–

you wait.

you wait.

- immortalizing the pain

[sims3morgans]

[cicidoobles]

So i’ve had this art blog for 2 years now, yaaay aniversary! But uh, i’ve got some good/ bad news..i’m done. 2 years i’ve been posting and i’ve certainly had a lot of fun but i’m getting nowhere. I’ve used instagram for only a year and i have so many people following me and not just the mutuals i am talking to now. Popularity was never my goal but it certainly is nice to be recognized for the hard work i put into my drawings and tumblr’s never gonna give that to me. So i’m finished, i’ll keep the art blog here for memories and i’ll still be on main but this blog will no longer be active. I had a great time while it lasted and i hope to anyone who sees this will be happy to possibly gain an artist friend on insta (and maybe twitter who knows!)

Love you all, and cicays keep drawing!

[seratlantisite]

woops my hand slipped - (source)

[the-badly-drawn-anon]

I’m ending this blog, it was fun while it lasted.  I hope it was entertaining to watch.

my main is @rbayray is anyone cares

This was my first post on this blog, 

aint ya glad I changed the style.

[eggplant-xaela]

“Maybe if I had been stronger this wouldn’t have happened.” from Milo!

how do you even write? how do I even write??

“Is that so, Milo…?” Deimos’ voice comes cold, quiet– entirely detached from the younger Xura’s plight. His smaller companion’s blood gushes forth from an open wound, pooling freely onto the ceramic tile flooring, staining it - and Deimos’ white robes - a vivid crimson.

An assault in their own home, of all places.

Raeth would not be pleased.

Milo parts his lips to speak but he’s met with a single, pale fingertip pressed against them in a silencing motion. Deimos shakes his head. It’s not a massively complicated wound. He could heal it, if he wanted to. He has a few more minutes to decide, at least, before his small companion bleeds out entirely. Perhaps he could have a change of heart.

…Of course, it would be counterproductive to his earlier actions. A bloodstained knife, held in his other hand, is wiped clean on his sleeve before being tucked safely into a sheath upon his belt.

“No amount of strength can save you from betrayal, you know,” he speaks, his tone reassuring. A thin, gloved hand reaches out to gently caress Milo’s forehead, brushing the messy bangs aside and slinking his fingertips through a mane of auburn hair.

Finally, he leans forwards,  "…But it was fun while it lasted, my dear friend. I’ll give your regards to your brother,“ he purrs, softly, onto the younger male’s horn before pressing those same lips to a cheek grown pale, lifeless. A final farewell, but not necessarily an affectionate one.

As the last breath passes the young Xura’s lips, Deimos pushes himself to his feet, dusting down his robes and nonchalantly taking his leave from the building.