Popeofmars - Pope's Poetry Pile - Tumblr Blog

The crackle of the fireplace mingled with the clinking of metal as the two knights stumbled into the chamber. Ethelreds eyes came into focus as the smell of smoke helped to clear the fog of iron and sweat that filled his nose from the battle and raised that gaze towards Iarina.

She attempted to remove her helm but a blow she suffered early in the battle rose its ugly head and her left hand fell to her side.

Setting his own helm down on a bench in the room he stepped close to her, removing the muck painted sallet with a soft smile as her crimson eyes fell on him.

Removing her coif and dropping it to the ground she pressed her forehead to his, leaning down to his height, a wave of relief washing over her.

He looked up through the net of maple colored locks that obscured her face and kissed her on the cheek as he dropped his gauntlets opposite of her coif, and gently took her hand in his and began to undo her injured hand.

With her right she began to loosen the straps of his gourget, wincing as the cracked glove came free.

Careful not to raise it too high he lifted her bruised hand and softer than the feathers on his Crest placed a number of kisses across her palm, undoing the bracers reforming moving to her right gauntlet.

As he finished she with newly articulate fi gers removed the neck piece from his armor lifting it over his head and dropping it behind him, the beating of her heart gaining the momentum her breathing was steadily loosing.

She brushed the obnoxiously pink hair that stuck to his forehead aside revealing the scar she gave him during their first sparing session and ran her thumb across it as he undid her shoulder pauldrons.

Arms now free she rolled them as much as she could before repeating the process for her dearest Ethelred.

The reflection of her wine stained eyes mixing with the light of his emerald orbs giving both lovestruck gazes an iridescent honeyed hue.

As the rounded pieces of steel hit the ground she pulled him closer to her a hand in the collar of his gambison, breastplates ringing softly as she maneuvered him to make removing the chest piece easier.

Time seemed to both slow down and quicken for the pair of warriors as bit by bit, section by section they freed one another from their steel casings with religious care.

Dropping to one knee he removed the layers of metal and padding she wore about her waist his breath catching as his hands brushed her bare hip from a tear in armor that did not break skin.

She stepped free of the heavy sabatons, the last of the Dames armor now free and placed a kiss ontop of his head, a lock of his "sunset" pink hair stuck to her cheek as she straightened.

Standing with her help he ran a hand through her deep mahogany hair, hair that reminded him of bronze and autumn, his other hand rested on her hip and he wished for nothing more that too remain frozen in that moment, staring at his Paramore, that is until they both heard the bell that let them know the steamed bath was ready for them.

If they were not so exhausted they would have wrestled each other to get through the door first but as it was Iarina was closer and so entered first.

Like a sugar cube in tea she sank into the water, her hair drifting out like melted chocolate, he how ever had to ease his way in, hissing under his breath and the sting of water, wondering how she could ever fall into such temperatures so easily.

Were I born without sight I would still know you and your visage in an instant for yours is a beauty than even angels from above cannot fully look upon and so sight is a poor modicum to remeber it by

Were I born deaf I would still find my heart beating to the rhythm of the melody of your voice for it is a song that is felt in one's soul as well as heard so what use would hearing be to name it among a chorus

And were my voice torn from me this very instant I would still find the means to relay the wildfire you have ignited in my heart for no words even these of honey and silver can transcribe the love I have found for you in my heart so what need do I have of this voice

Also I dare say that if I were stranded in the middle of a dessert in the height of summer I would but batt an eye at the torrent of heat beating down for I have held close the muse who is born of constellations and center of the suns envy so how could a mere summer wave even dream of comparing to such a blaze of beauty and light

Let us say the opposite was true and I was trapped in the tundra at the winter solstice that I would neither weather the cold or be at worry of losing my way home for as said before my love is a radiant light that would serve as my North star and whose mere memory would supply all warmth I would need to withstand biting cold and howling blizzard that may stand between me and my incandescent Paramore.

All of this too say that while I may soon find myself with the ferryman at the river nyx that whatever life I am blessed with next be it a orchid in the gardens you tend or a bird aloft the breezes you sing too I will find you again too gleefully lay before the entirety of that life's years as well.

I have found within myself a newfound strengthening of faith I thought long abandoned, rekindled in the face of recent terrors for this pain I feel in my chest is to real to be anything but intentional.

This torment that rages both in my heart and mind from your absence can only be just punishment from heaven for the hubris I've shown in revealing my love for you.

Until I laid eyes on you for the first time in waking life, I had always discarded the saying "God made us all in their image" but in that moment I knew it was a half truth.

I realized he had tried time and time again to recreate his image with each of us, mere rough drafts he had cast aside until you sprang from that quill. While we may all be in his image only you are God's mirror for there is no earthly way to explain such divine perfection.

A perfection that let bloom the seed of passion and love and lust that I hold for you and have since I first drew breath. It simply did not know it was yours to grow and blossom for until it entered your awe inspiring gaze.

A gaze so brilliant the stars fling themselves down from the sky for they will never shine so bright, a gaze so warm that the sun weeps at how frozen it finds itself by comparison, a gaze so cosmically breathtaking I want nothing more than to spend infinity in their stare.

I have found within myself a newfound strengthening of faith I thought long abandoned, rekindled in the face of recent terrors for this pain I feel in my chest is to real to be anything but intentional.

This torment that rages both in my heart and mind from your absence can only be just punishment from heaven for the hubris I've shown in revealing my love for you.

Until I laid eyes on you for the first time in waking life, I had always discarded the saying "God made us all in their image" but in that moment I knew it was a half truth.

I realized he had tried time and time again to recreate his image with each of us, mere rough drafts he had cast aside until you sprang from that quill. While we may all be in his image only you are God's mirror for there is no earthly way to explain such divine perfection.

A perfection that let bloom the seed of passion and love and lust that I hold for you and have since I first drew breath. It simply did not know it was yours to grow and blossom for until it entered your awe inspiring gaze.

A gaze so brilliant the stars fling themselves down from the sky for they will never shine so bright, a gaze so warm that the sun weeps at how frozen it finds itself by comparison, a gaze so cosmically breathtaking I want nothing more than to spend infinity in their stare.

This is for a dnd character/book character I've made, a barbarian with an eyepatch but no other scars people can see, hope yall enjoy!

Long have I seen your sideways stares and whispered inquiries at my injury my comrades, also have I heard whispers of the bets in place over how I lost my eye so long ago, so gather around if you wish to hear once and for all the truth of the matter, for I dare say none of you may have guessed the truth of this mystery.

You see it is a simple and yet shocking thing that lead to my partial Blindness, a wonderful act of love and sacrifice did gift me this scar if it can be called that, and because of this I brandish it proudly.

Years ago I cared for nothing but adventure and glory, seeking unwinnable battles to claim victory over and sights unseen and yet unsung by any. Ever has my heart yearned for what lies beyond the next bend of the ground before me. Then, thoughts of my adventures and the wonders I'd found were washed away by the a glimpse of the one to whom I cannot begin to describe in full and can only call cosmicly divine.

From the moment I laid my unworthy eyes upon them with that hair of flowing midnight and eyes the silvery blue of only shared with that of comets I found myself wholey starstruck and enchanted by the infinite expanse of their beauty.

In that splitsecond that to my mind blissfully stretched on and on, I knew no matter what ever else I may find in life my sight could ever dream of comparing too my newfound deity of incandescence before me, and vowed that they would be the last thing I would see. For what better sight could one hope for when shedding this mortal coil of life than heaven incarnate beckoning you into its arms.

I knew I could not fulfill that oath by daring to never leave my loves side, for even the flames of the sun that envies them would soon be snuffed for lack of oxygen if it was smothered so. Naturally this would not do.

Nor would I be able too carry on my person a relief of that blessed countenance for two reasons. First of those being that no painting, drawing, or carving could capture the entirety of their unending beauty for I know of no artist so skilled as to capture infinity in a still image. Second being that I know I have not the strength in my heart to carry on my person such a sliver of Divinity lest it be tarnished by my bloody and mud covered work. While it is true it would for ever fall short I have not the heart to stain any retelling of your visage.

Lost in that turmoil I found my answer in a place far too often overlooked by many, the words of mine own mother. With her voice echoing wisdom in my ears battling my paramores image at the forefront of my mind I took their hand in mine And spilling all these feelings I hold now out to her and my purpose in doing so asked for my dearests permission to take the appropriate action.

Thinking my proclamation a jest they gleefully signaled me to continue and always being a man of extremes I took the knife from my belt and put razors edge to curved socket, insuring that at least in part my eternal Deity of light and beauty would be the last thing I would witness and all I had to give for such a holy privilege was one measly eye.

Only did I regret that my action brought tears to those glistening orbs of theirs out of empathy for my pain as their hands as soft as snow dabbed at my wound with a cloth all the while proclaiming me a wonder but idiotic fool. To help console them I had only to draw their cerulean gaze to my checks where no tears did flow, for pain is a fleeting thing I am old friends with in the face of a love so true I swore to give to them.

After all what tears need be shed for the loss of a single eye, for my mother did say love is a blind thing and so blind I shall be for who am I to deny such a law of nature.

Now even to this day my darling dearest does often scold me light heartedly for my actions, a scolding I take with a wink and a smile for if I am a fool then I declare myself the happiest fool to walk the land. No matter where this life takes me or where my road may end I rest easy each night with the certainty that when the light of my life is smothered by shade, and I spend my last breath thanking my beloved for allowing me to spend my life with them it will be their Holy and Celestial visage that takes my hand and walks me into the next life, a life I plan to use chasing them down once more.

🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸

Gael: Enchanted with anti-inflammatory properties 👍✨

Art by yc24720223 on Twitter

i love stormlight cause it's like. this character feels like absolute shit for something they totally did and it was totally bad. worse than they know even. here's how they're going to keep going anyway

My headcannon for how dnd races sound

Goliath - Minnesota

Orc - arkansas

Elf - (high) posh British

Elf - (half) wessex

Elf - (eladrin) cockney

Half orc - southern high Georgian

Halfing - New Zealand

Gnome - australian

Teifling- italian

Aasamir - Spain

Tabaxi - Brazilian

Loxodon - south african

Drow - brexit

Dwarf - (hill) Scottish

Dwarf - (mountain) Norse

Dragon born - japanese

Lizardfolk - Mongolian

Kobolds - japanese

Hobgoblin - greek upper

Goblin - boston

Humans - German

Kenku/aracockra - French

Firbolg - pu mat sol

Yuanti - Arabian

Minotaur - greek

Bugbear - russian

Part 2 of my bg3 tarot deck

Part 1

Hmm not Sapphic as in WLW but Sapphic as in writing poetry that everyone goes mad for.

Not Achillean as in MLM but Achillean as in killing and crying and covered in blood.

“I’m slowly learning that some people aren’t good for me, no matter how much I love them.”

— Unknown

Hit him where it hurts, Cassandra! (Apollo is the WORST.)

WEIRDLY SPECIFIC BUT HELPFUL CHARACTER BUILDING QUESTIONS

What’s the lie your character says most often?

How loosely or strictly do they use the word ‘friend’?

How often do they show their genuine emotions to others versus just the audience knowing?

What’s a hobby they used to have that they miss?

Can they cry on command? If so, what do they think about to make it happen?

What’s their favorite [insert anything] that they’ve never recommended to anyone before?

What would you (mun) yell in the middle of a crowd to find them? What would their best friend and/or romantic partner yell?

How loose is their use of the phrase ‘I love you’?

Do they give tough love or gentle love most often? Which do they prefer to receive?

What fact do they excitedly tell everyone about at every opportunity?

If someone was impersonating them, what would friends / family ask or do to tell the difference?

What’s something that makes them laugh every single time? Be specific!

When do they fake a smile? How often?

How do they put out a candle?

What’s the most obvious difference between their behavior at home, at work, at school, with friends, and when they’re alone?

What kinds of people do they have arguments with in their head?

What do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them?

Who do they love truly, 100% unconditionally (if anyone)?

What would they do if stuck in a room with the person they’ve been avoiding?

Who do they like as a person but hate their work? Vice versa, whose work do they like but don’t like the person?

What common etiquette do they disagree with? Do they still follow it?

What simple activity that most people do / can do scares your character?

What do they feel guilty for that the other person(s) doesn’t / don’t even remember?

Did they take a cookie from the cookie jar? What kind of cookie was it?

What subject / topic do they know a lot about that’s completely useless to the direct plot?

How would they respond to being fired by a good boss?

What’s the worst gift they ever received? How did they respond?

What do they tell people they want? What do they actually want?

How do they respond when someone doesn’t believe them?

When they make a mistake and feel bad, does the guilt differ when it’s personal versus when it’s professional?

When do they feel the most guilt? How do they respond to it?

If they committed one petty crime / misdemeanor, what would it be? Why?

How do they greet someone they dislike / hate?

How do they greet someone they like / love?

What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they’ve made?

Who do they keep in their life for professional gain? Is it for malicious intent?

What’s a secret they haven’t told serious romantic partners and don’t plan to tell?

What hobby are they good at in private, but bad at in front of others? Why?

Would they rather be invited to an event to feel included or be excluded from an event if they were not genuinely wanted there?

How do they respond to a loose handshake? What goes through their head?

What phrases, pronunciations, or mannerisms did they pick up from someone / somewhere else?

If invited to a TED Talk, what topic would they present on? What would the title of their presentation be?

What do they commonly misinterpret because of their own upbringing / environment / biases? How do they respond when realizing the misunderstanding?

What language would be easiest for them to learn? Why?

What’s something unimportant / frivolous that they hate passionately?

Are they a listener or a talker? If they’re a listener, what makes them talk? If they’re a talker, what makes them listen?

Who have they forgotten about that remembers them very well?

Who would they say ‘yes’ to if invited to do something they abhorred / strongly didn’t want to do?

Would they eat something they find gross to be polite?

What belief / moral / personality trait do they stand by that you (mun) personally don’t agree with?

What’s a phrase they say a lot?

Do they act on their immediate emotions, or do they wait for the facts before acting?

Who would / do they believe without question?

What’s their instinct in a fight / flight / freeze / fawn situation?

What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?

If they’re scared, who do they want comfort from? Does this answer change depending on the type of fear?

What’s a simple daily activity / motion that they mess up often?

How many hobbies have they attempted to have over their lifetime? Is there a common theme?

I crave them the way a chisel hungers for marble to carve into statues or in the way a brush thirsts for undiscovered blends of pigment to freeze a moment in time.

The one who is my muse has taken over my every thought waking or dreaming, writing over my forethought with reckless abandon like an author at the height of their narrative avalanche.

In the absence of his mystifying touch my skin feels like a blank canvas collecting dust in an attic. I want nothing more than to have him cast aside the trapdoor make of me a masterpiece that any who saw would recognize as his handiwork.

I need nothing more than for him to paint a landscape across my neck with lips and teeth, to carve into my back mixing nail and skin to bring out a bold and crimson pigment.

I can't be satisfied until even the air I breathe in that moment is indistinguishable from his because we have kissed so deeply for so long.

Oh and how I long to return the favor and mold his pleasure too newfound heights like a Potter at the wheel.

Too etch into his thighs and collar bone collages of my own with a tasteful blend of ice and wax to perfectly find his melting point.

Like a master conductor I am in a spell of inspiration as I drive his voice to new symphonies, the trembling in his legs the only applause I need.

In that moment of bliss we moved from theatere to table and with my muse as the chef I am ravenous to taste the honeyed nectar he gifts me, and with a desert so divine how could I not kiss the chef and in doing so let him share in the first of many courses to come.

Slowly I began to forget who's air I was breathing anymore as what was suppose to be a kiss goodbye turned into my reason to stay. Paralyzed nearly with indecision on whether to let that kiss live until the sun rose or tear myself from its embrace to share that kiss with your entire figure.

As that night of bliss and ecstacy waged on the skin around my neck faded from its natural color to the hue of your lipstick, my back carved from a blank canvas into a masterpiece of pain and pleasure, trailing new pathways like a rock gardens maze.

Bruises of passion and lust began to bleed into life across your neck, chest, and all along your legs. My hair began to tangle around your hands, becoming trapped inside their grip as you held my head low.

No longer needing to know whose air I was holding in my lungs for the sight of your face twisted with bliss took it all away.

As we became enchanted and drunken on one anothers touch time became fickle. Hours turned to minutes and the night seemed to slip away and fall back into view once more as the day flew past us like a song on the wind.

Finaly we fell into the bed from exhaustion our bodies sore and spent. Your head lay upon my chest riding the pattern of my labored breath as I damned the need for sleep, for how could I welcome time apart from you.

Divine though was the site of you in the morning, my first sight to what can only be a perfect day brought on by the beat of our matching hearts.

Damned again was the alarm that woke you too the real world and too the fact you had to leave. Would that I could freeze time around us so we may never part. Until I learn such a spell I shall stay placated in the fact your always in my mind and of course my heart as it was yours the moment I saw you.

Mega churches need to pay taxes

Oh my dearest beloved please take heed when I tell you of the depths of my affection for while I admit I drone ever on for this topic it is part of how I love.

When I lay awake at night with a heart overflowing with love I must find something to do with this excess so I write of you and how just your memory eases my distress.

When my sugar cravings make everything in the cabinet seem bland I need only call for my dearest because your presence is like nectar my love.

In those days when my well of socializing has run dry it always finds a secret reserve for the one who sets my heart ablaze for you erase the need for words such as solitude.

Some people express their love through touch, adorning their partners with embraces softer than a chill winters air, others will do it by acting out their love in wonderful displays of Cooking. I however need to write.

I need to put pen to paper and ink to parchment and infuse each stroke with the drops from the endless sea of fondness that stirs within me.

I love by using what words exist today in dazzling dances of vocabulary in an attempt to give definitions to words that do not and may not ever exist because no mortal tounge can translate this devotion you inspire.

I love by making sure that even after I have long since shed my mortal coil and the forest that we use to dance in has fossilized itself unto stone that my love for you can still be close at hand for when the days seem painted over with grey and gloom.

I write because that is what someone does when given a glimpse of Divinity, I make holy doctrine and religious texts full of nothing but devotion to a deity I am never worthy of and forever greatful to.

My Paramore I write to and of you because this is how I love and I know no other way that I can show it so truthfully.

My hands cannot make statues or paintings or jewelry or meals with the gusto some can provide. My touch alone cannot convey all to you that I have to express. Only my words have the strength to carry such passion. Each sentence an embodiment of Atlas or Hercules, given the Olympic task of holding a sliver of the love in my heart to you when and wherever you reside when you need them most.

I only ask that you forgive me for the torrents of text and piles of poetry, and promise that one day in the decades to come I will find a way to consolidate my writings if ever possible.

I miss your touch like the rose misses the sun

And alike the rose I am cold in the absence of your warmth.

It feels like everything around me has frozen over and all that can save me is the heat of your passion and fire in your body.

With every waking moment you steal my breath down to the last gasp. All that can save me is to embrace you in a kiss so deep that I can take back the breath that was rightfully mine, and some of your breath as well.

My back is a blank canvas meant for your maze of scratch work patterns and my only goal now is to send you into a craze of lust filled inspiration to carve your masterpiece exactly where it belongs.

Where ever I am blessed enough too explore your body oh so divine I plan to leave a trail of wine red bite marks as we begin to roll around, drunken on each other's touch.

I crave the feeling of your hands pushing me away as you get closer and closer when your eyes glaze over with the look I have become oh so addicted too. I crave the soarness in my arms from fighting to keep you in place so you may still reach that moment many times after the first.

To summarize all that has been said, I miss you, I lust for you, I crave, no I need you. Wonderful, handsome, beautiful, enchanting, magical you. I can only hope you need me too.

Lipstick stains upon my neck

Lines of lusts passing across my back

Lingering tastes of your lips upon mine

Lord how I wish we were frozen in that time

Beautiful bruises across your thighs

Back when your legs sat shoulder high

Boundless bliss from our embraces

Bubbling joy rushing to our faces

Fingers like pens upon your skin

Fantastic alphabets memorized within

Forever you run through my mind

Flawless is your visage regardless of time

Only alive when enraptured by your eyes

Once more in heaven for you are my divine

On top of the world when our hands intertwine

Overjoyed by your love that is my ultimate prize

Divine is the bliss we share

Dreams cannot begin to compare

Drowning in your kiss forgetting the need for air

Delighting in the touch of one so fair

Gasping for breath after breathing you in

Greedily pulling you closer lest I loose you

Goddess of my life who I now worship so

Graciously intoxicated by your visage

Would that we were alone so that I may leave a memory of my affections left emblazoned upon your skin in the form of passionate bruises.

For when ever your visage comes to mind upon a sea of love, and lust, and longing does my heart sail upon.

Wishing for the gods to grant mine wishes and let every moment in your presence go ever on and on.

Oh the miles I would walk in blistering heat and, the oceans swim submerged in biting cold to hold you mine angel until we grew old.

To gaze at your person as the years tried and failed to take your beauty from you for how can you take beauty away from they who embody it.

Oh muse of mine, while they will forever lack the luster required to encompass all that is you, you stand my inspiration for all of the beauty I doth see and the words I doth weave made from silk honey.

For how best could one such as myself or better describe that which cannot be put to mere letters.

A dress as red as the rose braided into her hair

Stargazing eyes that could entrap even Narcisus in that stare

A smile brighter than the sun drawn by Apollo

To even think of a world absent her beauty would be to feel hollow

Steel grey ever changing eyes as gorgeous as the clear blue skies

Her hair black like the night sky full of stars that she puts to shame and flowing like every waterfall thats ever known fame

And when she speaks it is with a voice that too could be compared to music, if there ever was a melody that could match such silken tones

When she laughs so to do we for her joy is infectious and to deny it would be coy

She stands a queen a goddess and an angel to all those who have ever learned the word beautiful

I wish to be the sun too your bright blue sky for ever embraced by your love for all to see.

At night the stars twinkle and dance with the moon all too like the butterflies you often bless upon me.

Softer than clouds and lighter than a gust of wind, I know no matter what has happened if im embraced by your touch my troubles and worries will always mend.

Your smile is like a double rainbow, bright, magical and will always brighten up where ever it shines.

Eyes like an eclipse, awe inspiringly dark, yet somehow still shine dazzlingly and not too mention one of a kind.

A cosmic deity beyond my understanding as mysterious as the milkyway yet describable with one beautiful word : Perfect.