#vyalost

kiss meme.          *   @vyalost

rapunzel’s eyes are as wide as dinner plates,  and for a moment she seems frozen in place,  rooted to the spot.  then one hand reaches out,  so so carefully,  drawing back only for a brief moment before fingers glide across the threaded silk tulle.

“  blanche,  ”     she breathes,  her voice catching for a moment.     “  it’s so  —  it’s  —  ”     rapunzel can’t find the words. beautiful.  perfect.  more than she ever could have dreamed she would have in her life.

the wedding veil is 80 feet long,  already a feat in and of itself.  and then there’s the pale stitch work,  intricate designs cascading down the fabric,  foot after foot and yard after yard.  rapunzel traces her fingers across the designs reverently,  as if at any moment the veil might slip through her fingers like smoke.  she can’t imagine how tirelessly blanche must have worked on it.

when blanche had offered to create her veil,  rapunzel ahd been overjoyed.  the two of them had already discussed the matter of an invitation :  rapunzel would have loved nothing more than to have blanche at her wedding,  but the daytime ceremony along with certain other factors had simply made it an impossibility.  to have blanche craft the veil would be,  in some small way,  like having blanche there herself and though the older woman had never let rapunzel see her progress the princess’s mind had raced with ideas at what the finished product might be.  and those fanciful dreams did not even begin to compare to what she saw before her now.

“  i’m glad you like it,  ”     blanche murmurs,  and there’s a glow to her,  watching rapunzel like this.  rapunzel’s emotions are always infectious and there’s a warmth to her awe that settles in blanche’s chest.

“  i wanted you to see it first,  but i’ll have it wrapped and  —  ”     blanche barely catches herself in time to withstand the force of rapunzel throwing her arms around the taller woman’s neck,  clinging there tightly as blanche returns the embrace.

“  thank you,  ”     rapunzel says in a whisper,  drawing back only enough to look up at blanche with shining eyes.  she thinks that maybe blanche’s eyes are misting over too and rapunzel stands up on her tiptoes to place a kiss upon blanche’s cheek.  and as she settles the weight of her gratitude slowly lifts into more joyous celebration as rapunzel bounces,  untangles herself from blanche’s arms to return to fawning over the veil.

misc  sentence  starters  .  /  accepting  .

𝐇𝐄  𝐈𝐒  𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐓𝐇𝐄  (  ON  )  𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐒𝐒  .  HE  IS  ROT  and  he  is  abandon  .  He  knows  nothing  but  loss  and  the  shrapnel  between  his  teeth   – -  knows  only  blood  and  blood  -  thorn  after  thorn  .   HE  KNOWS  DECAY  -  KNOWS  ATROPHY  (  IS  ATROPHIED  )  for  the  graves  were  all  that  was  left  .  Left  of  him  –  left  of  them  .  EMPTY  ,  SIX  -  FOOT  HOLES  —  a  mockery  with  sorrow  .  A  MOCKERY  –  MIMICRY  -  OF  HIM  .  “  Are  you  ?  ”   (  I  WANT  TO  SEE  YOUR  EYES  -  )  Eyes  –  multiplying  by  the  thousands  beneath  porcelain  façade  delicately  pick  her  apart  with  a  maggot’s  hunger  .  I  am  steel  and  steel  alone  –  what  would  you  want  to  see  ?

Send one for party banter from my muse: accepting.

Quinn: Sometimes I wonder if you’re more a ghost than a person in this world.Blanche: What do you mean?Quinn: ... You’re standoffish. Not in a way where you try to make distance, try to push others away. It’s like --Quinn: It’s like having troubles remembering. How to connect. How to fit in. You want to be a part of the world, of the people, but something’s holding you back, isn’t it?Blanche: I --Quinn: It’s fine. You don’t have to answer that.(a pause. something stilted, and uncomfortable; like cotton stuck in the mouth an catching between teeth, like hands the weigh too heavy on the shoulders).

hug him !    ⇢   @vyalost

BED   DIPS   under  slow   pressure .   silence   of   the   early   morning .   somewhere   beyond   darkened   blinds   blocking   off   sunlight   is   the   distant   waking   of   a   pale   sun ,   a   pastel   wash   of   faded   pink   giving   way   to   a   yawning   blue   as   it   slowly   overcomes   a   pitch   black   night .    he   doesn’t   know .   red   digits   in   the   dark   tell   him ,   harsh   in   the   adjustment   of   such   definitive   blackness .   her   goodbye ,   his   good    morning .   shoes   are   pulled   from   tidy   spot   beside   the   bed ,   tie   draped   loose   around   shoulders ,   yet   to   greet   the   day .   he   leans   to   pull   at   laces   of   leather   shoes   when   he   hears   the   tired   breath ,   the   whisper   of   sheets ,   the   tilt   of   mattress .

will my beautiful mom and my Weird Dad get a fucking room

icb media’s taken the brat out of this bratty bottom

 skyhold ,   when   they   first   found   it ,   had   been   a   half   crumbled   ruin .   snow   &   cobwebs   &   cold   stone .   now ,   it   is   bustling   with   life :   soldiers   drilling   in   the   courtyard ,   a   steadily   growing   garden ,   &   more   mages   than   she   can   count ,   free   &   safe   ( there   are   more   elves   now   too.   very   few   are   dalish,   but   it   hardly   matters ) .   it's   good ,   but   it   makes   tracking   down   her   companions   a   bit   trickier .   blanche   doesn't   stick   out   much   more   than   anyone   else.   or   rather ,   she   shouldn't .   in   the   bright   hues   of   the   fire   light ,   the   slate   grey   of   the   main   hall   is   washed   in   soft   yellows   &   oranges ,   the   last   bit   of   sunlight   barely   peaking   through   the   windows   high   above   them .   in   comparison ,   blanche   is   a   stark ,   bold ,   monochrome   contrast ,   &   mislyn   spots   her   easily   enough   through   the   rapidly   thinning   dinner   crowd .

 when   she   makes   her   way   forward ,   there   are   a   few   lingering   glances .   it   doesn't   bother   her   so   much   anymore ,   but   she   doesn't   smile   when   she   meets   their   gaze ;   it   isn't   out   of   coldness   or   disinterest   ( she   memorizes   each   one   of   their   faces   &   remembers   haven ) ,   it's   simply   not   in   her   nature .   most   don't   seem   to   mind ,   or   they've   simply   come   to   expect   as   much .

* NBC DRACULA MEME : OPEN

 ———  long fingernails were an eccentricity in his otherwise discreet guise. that of A MODERN MAN ; of someone who had learned to follow the waltz of time and space and now twirled effortlessly through every orchestral crescendo. but oh, his NAILS : like horrible pale claws they ripped through his well-tailored man suit and made something about the count seem horribly out of place. he could put on all the three-pieced suits he wanted, wrap himself in the finest silk the world had to offer, his true nature STILL managed to peek through. those who took the time to notice all the small details hiding beneath his polished little mask found UNCANNINESS waiting for them with black hungry eyes.      ❝   do not deceive yourself, child.  ❞      music played from another room and threatened to seep through the walls. a party had brought her to him. and what a sight she was.

          ❝   you are no one.  ❞         dracula’s voice was like the rumble of thunder. the sounds of the party would be drowned out by it only to come back again in great volume whenever he fell silent.  and like a storm, the count’s gestures were merciless. one thin hand reached out to touch blanche’s face and the tips of his sharp clawed fingers traced over her jawline, beckoning for her to step closer so gently one would think the woman might be made of glass. something he could break with one sudden movement.           ❝  nothing inhabits this body.  ❞   the monster’s words carried FAKE PITY. they mocked the tragedy of the curse he had unleashed upon the world. and as he stared down at her mouth, he bared his teeth. a snarl that revealed no sharp teeth but something EQUALLY CRUEL.