#scriptastra

[nixscriptum]

[threespringspoet]

Pried open my rib cage…,words by: @sanitysipper

[happyk44]

"I have Yukio, and Yukio has me!"

Sources: 1. Blue Exorcist by Kato Kazue; 2. Song for Sasha Banks sung by The Mountain Goats; 3. How The Light Gets In by Joyce Maynard; 4. He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother sung by The Hollies; 5. Brother by the Interstate by K. C. Cramm; 6. Blue Exorcist by Kato Kazue; 7. The World at its Beginning by Dustin Pearson; 8. Dioscuri by Dante Émile; 9. The Lunar Chronicles #4: Winter by Marissa Meyers; 10. I'll Give You The Sun by Jandy Nelson; 11. Blue Exorcist by Kato Kazue; 12. @/godlyrot; 13. @/scriptastra; 14. Trista Mateer; 15. Unknown; 16. Blue Exorcist by Kato Kazue

[dontassignmeyours]

Trees For Shade, They Given Us Blue Moons For Light - Written by me

[pamrak]

... she is my home, my peace of mind, and someone I don't want to lose.

DENIED LOVE || scriptastra

[lyralu91]

If James Delaney was a poet

- and if my dialogue was as mindblowing as @scriptastra's writing!

I want to make it absolutely clear that the dialogue below ⬇️ - as seen in the prose/poem above the gif ⬆️ - belongs to Scriptastra.

I only claim the very last line and the "surrounding text".

Thank you SO much to the wonderful @scriptastra for letting me share and use these beautiful words! ✍🏻💛

Word count: 330

Contains sexual tension and slightly possessive language.

The gif is meant to set the mood here, but could definitely be used to imagine a meeting between James and Zilpha.

He has you up against the cold stone wall of a battered old barn, hiding you partially from the downpour. The silver light in the sky makes the raindrops look like tears of the moon, as they rush down the overhanging roof and leave shimmering trails through the black wool of his coat, like visible shivers down his back.

"I am yours..." he says, voice low as if the words have rumbled in his chest for far too long, full of desire and dark reverence. "The way the tide aches for the pull of the moon."

His breath is warm along your cheekbone and his moustache keeps tickling your skin. The brim of his hat nudges your brow as he moves his head, perhaps for a reaction. 

You can't see it, but his eyes search for yours through the dark. An eager flicker that contradicts his immovable calm.

You stretch your neck, away from him slightly, which only beckons him to lean in closer with another poetic proclamation.

"How the moon stains the skin of the sea, with nothing but longing... and silver."

His voice is lowered into a deep whisper as he strokes your neck with the outside of his leather clad hand, and you swallow hard, making the rain trickle down your throat.

You imagine - no, crave - the feel of his fingers through your hair, over your lips, around your neck. His mouth should be tasting your skin. His tongue should be licking rain off your collarbone; slurping, sucking, humming into the hollow of your neck until your legs shake.

You breathe his name and James moves in like a shadow, impossibly close, with a deep, pleased noise that suggests you've said all you need to say, and that he’s intent on making you scream it.

"I am yours..." he repeats, and your chest heaves high at the feel of his gloved thumb on your pulse point, so very gentle compared to the demand that follows:

"Say it."

[amc-minx]

🎶 And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me? 🔊

[threespringspoet]

Words by: @thesanitysipper