dark room

Technically a morning reblog :P

Inspired by batmorphy’s masterful heartwrenchings

Preview?

Touch is a lot of things. It’s what lingers on Allura’s shoulders, tender soft and sweet and slow.

(In her it strikes hot hard and fast.)

Touch is what gives and takes life. Its striker sharper than her whip; it’s crack louder than the strike across Keith’s… well.

Touch is what grounds. It is her feet on the floor of the castle. It is the outstretch of her hand to a new ally. It is her back to Keith in a new battle. It is their legs over Red’s paw; a longing and a lingering.

Touch is inescapable.

The expression of love, the pinnacle of pleasure. Touch is. The fervor of hatred, the height of betrayal. Touch is. The bringer of sustenance, the warning of change, the setting of mood.

It is all things, so much, many things and photographs may communicate much but how much more worth is the warmth of a hand? How much more priceless is the kiss of a dip?

How much more unspeakable is the touch of lovers (finally) outspoken?

It ends with a beginning.