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801 watchers?! Okay that's a crazy number - I don't think I've even met that many people in my life
So again, thank you to everyone who has watched me since way back when (Iloveyouall) and a big welcome to my new watchers - it's my final year of uni so uploads and replies will be a bit sporadic but I promise I will always get back to any notes or comments at some point!

Anyways, here are some of my fave literature pieces I've come across on dA in the last few months as a massive thank you gift

Mature Content

year of the tigerIt is April of 1998, the year of the tiger, and she was with you from the very beginning of it all. Scarlet-stripped, you are thrown into life too fast, far-flung and ravenous in a California hospital too small to hold you, and you screamed because she leapt into your throat and made your voice her echo. But all too soon you realized that you were born with a rib cage, and you locked her away before she could even taste your mother’s blood on your lips.Fourth grade beneath printer-paper snowflakes, alphabets of boredom. They tell you that a heart is atrium and ventricle but even after seeing the neat little diagram you don’t quite beli... Blood MotherI love you in your inexistence rabbit’s ear baby’s breath you are dust but you are mine.Misadventures and dew drop mornings small curls large eyes my bones cannot knit your future.Sunsets and moonbeams sleep burdens our eyes your soft lips sigh there is a better world for you than this.-D.E.M dollydarling boy, you wrapped your fingers round my wrist and tugged me close enough to kiss (i didn't want to, no, i told you to drive and you told me there's a difference between being scared and not wanting to let go -i almost killed you)i fell in love with you in three out of four years, dreaming from a distance and hitching my breath when they came to an end -i fell out of love with you in a week and three days, two minutes too close to almost-midnight as we sat in the front seat of your car and i turned away for the first time (it was the first second you doubted i was yours and the first i knew i didn't want you to be mine)i think i shut... An Editor's NoteI lose half dream on Thursday and there are no heartstrings to vibrate and echo in its absence no word that’s decent enough to take its place there is not the tentative pause of a movie - the moment before lips touch on Thursday I lose half a dream and say ‘oh’I am told that I will meet people with the universe rubbed into their skin those who carry themselves like an unused jacket half off the hanger I will meet people with sick souls or bird throats people with a laugh like flat stones skidding across a glass lake those who talk about their dogs too much or drink straight from the milk carton people who are thawing instead of teari... AnaestheteSo he tore his roots back from hell’s old circles and set his branches alight from within heaven’s gates, and his leaves burned autumnal for a time.The angels and fallen let out their sighs, and two young lovers carved their letters into an old maple.He did not feel the words cutting, or the love therein.
the five steps of stitching together a wound1. i fall out of love with you on a tuesday. to be honest, i don’t know it’s happening until it’s happened, until i sit in my bed that night and look at the neat holes you’ve left dotting my life. weeks ago, i gave you back your jacket when the weather turned warm enough that i wasn’t smoking with every breath. the space it took up on my desk chair remains emptied, buti am sure it will be filled again soon, with piles of books i will never lend you and poems you will never hear me speak, that aren’t about you, that use words i’ve never told you, like ‘vitriol’ and ‘bubbly’.2. loving you was consuming, was every two in... tumblr boy.you’re my aesthetic with roses wrapped around your fists and dressed in all black from head to toe, you’ve got wanderlust shining in your eyes and sad poetry dripping from your lips, just another punk rock loser with steel in his veins and fear in his heart— your soul is pouting but you hold every ounce of that fuck all attitude you can muster in your slender shoulders because we live in an “eat or be eaten” kinda world but you’d rather just be laying on your bedroom floor listening to the rain make love to your window and your favorite songs whisper in your ear while you silently contemplate life and rebelliously flirt with he... on distancethis is how the distance kills you and this is how the kilometres stretch across your skin like little scales on a map too uniform to measure out your longing. they run down your hands that are always empty and across the spaces to someone whose hands may or may not be collecting the moments you couldn't be bothered to count. you only know that they all fall under the category of another time when i was alone .you take walks. or try to.you end up sitting by your front door, shoes half-laced, and you tell yourself that this is only the first time, that you are allowed time to dissipate and wonder how many synonyms there are for lost .you ... after the party.He's drunk in the backseat. "Anna. Anna. Anna," he moans, as if my name is a broken record his throat can't stop scratching; his voice is nettles and thorns, every natural prick and annoyance. My knuckles go white on the wheel.Ryan's riding shotgun and he won't look at me. "If you need me to drive him home, I can do it," he offers sheepishly. I don't answer, just press my foot to the gas and let the engine's rusty roar engulf John's voice.I peek in the rearview mirror. John's laying across the seat like a dead trout, and I can tell Ryan hasn't even bothered to buckle his seat belt. There's a photo album in John's arms that he clings to wi... The Month of OctoberHugh Everett's ashes are in the dumpster behind the restaurant I work at. I know because they start moving on Monday. By Tuesday, there is a writhing charred leg and parts of his open torso. Wednesday, he speaks to me for the first time."What year is it?""I think you might implode if you knew.""Makes sense. Do you smoke, doll?" I light a cigarette for him, having pulled it with quivering fingers from my apron, and put it in his mouth. He leans up against a garbage bag leaking shake mix and puffs, exhaling clouds. "This is weak. Lady cigarettes."He rips off the filter with his teeth. He only has three fingers on his left hand and his righ... hansel and gretel, with ptsdwhen hansel comes to with the witch dead at his feet, he hangs gretel off him like a blood bag, drags her toes through the dirt, and he thinks she has to be broken in a ballet, she has to be broken in a pirouette. her toes continue to click in her shoes years later, a crunch that he is reminded of years later againwhen the moon hung like it does at midnight, as yellow as a sick child, facing the forest. hansel is rubbing his blue jeans like he does sometimes, the heels of his palms dragging the surface like nails on wood. it feels like fire and coal, a numbing that feels necessary until hansel says, “stop.” and when he sees herher face... BlindLoving you was like being blindEvery shift in your seat every staggered stuttery breath told me more than any glance ever couldI learnt the taste of liquor from your lips a punch-drunk kind of love and I the second hand cirrhosis of your heartI remember the way your body flowed between my fingers a soft expanse of no man’s land which I thought would bloom once more at my touchI caught the scent of you all bitter black coffee and stale cigarettes when you’d been gone a month and I hadn’t moved in days in fear of missing youI recall the way your voice broke like lightning ripping open the sky when your tongue stumbled over the words 'I... Road TripI put a bullet in her head, but she keeps coming back to my front door. That's my fault.But what isn't my fault, what I will never accept as my fault, are the things she leaves on the doorstep for me to find after she staggers back into the lake. They're photographs and diaries, addresses and phone numbers.It's always something horrible--the first photograph was of four men in hoods surrounding a little girl on a plinth in a large stone room. They had cut her vertically along the belly, and her face was distorted. Another time I decided to go to an address; it was in Pittsburgh, a long way from my home. All it was, was an abandoned proje... a retraction of august's horoscope “aquarius, you have fallen in love with the storm again,” the august horoscope reads.it is almost—but not quite—correct. for the sake of astrological accuracy it might be revised to read, “aquarius, you have fallen in love—” (this part may remain) “—aquarius, you have fallen in love in the sticky heat of summer, the air as damp as your skin, heat rising from the tarmac of this flat swamp town.”or perhaps, “aquarius, it will not feel like a storm. there will be no lightning bolts, no thunder. there will be no fire under your skin.”“aquarius, your love will be slow and soft. it will be the sound of leaves rustling ... When you feel you have lost everythingthere are still books you haven’t read and clothes you’ve never worn hanging lonely in your closet. When you feel you have lost everything, there are flowers sleeping under the frost. When you feel you have lost everything, there is a place around the corner you’ve never seen from the other side of the door and a stranger waiting to welcome you in. When you feel you have lost everything, there is a corner of your house filled with dust. When you feel you have lost everything, there are stamps you haven’t used and windows that have never seen pure sunlight. When you feel you have lost everything, there are pennies wasting luck on th... how to healthey say honey to soften the wound, but i let the woolwet with ethanolgnawuntil i amweeping,again, and again,and again Six Word Story #2My older brother hates his breasts. And then I realised, I was a pawn of greater menI'm flying on three tabs of Andraxian Blue. I don't remember taking them, but the Blue has an unmistakable way of splitting your head in two with a four iron. The question is why . It's been years since I've hit anything this hard, and I can already feel it coming on too fast.People surround me like a swarm. Their noise reverberates through my skull, and the stench of their salts fills my lungs and threatens to drag bile out onto the street. They gawk at me. They sense something is different, and they're just waiting for their chance to tear me apart. They keep coming closer, sidling up to me as if nothing is amiss, pretending to look awa...

I think I've fainted. — Description
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801 watchers?! Okay that's a crazy number - I don't think I've even met that many people in my life
So again, thank you to everyone who has watched me since way back when (Iloveyouall) and a big welcome to my new watchers - it's my final year of uni so uploads and replies will be a bit sporadic but I promise I will always get back to any notes or comments at some point!

Anyways, here are some of my fave literature pieces I've come across on dA in the last few months as a massive thank you gift

Mature Content

year of the tigerIt is April of 1998, the year of the tiger, and she was with you from the very beginning of it all. Scarlet-stripped, you are thrown into life too fast, far-flung and ravenous in a California hospital too small to hold you, and you screamed because she leapt into your throat and made your voice her echo. But all too soon you realized that you were born with a rib cage, and you locked her away before she could even taste your mother’s blood on your lips.Fourth grade beneath printer-paper snowflakes, alphabets of boredom. They tell you that a heart is atrium and ventricle but even after seeing the neat little diagram you don’t quite beli... Blood MotherI love you in your inexistence rabbit’s ear baby’s breath you are dust but you are mine.Misadventures and dew drop mornings small curls large eyes my bones cannot knit your future.Sunsets and moonbeams sleep burdens our eyes your soft lips sigh there is a better world for you than this.-D.E.M dollydarling boy, you wrapped your fingers round my wrist and tugged me close enough to kiss (i didn't want to, no, i told you to drive and you told me there's a difference between being scared and not wanting to let go -i almost killed you)i fell in love with you in three out of four years, dreaming from a distance and hitching my breath when they came to an end -i fell out of love with you in a week and three days, two minutes too close to almost-midnight as we sat in the front seat of your car and i turned away for the first time (it was the first second you doubted i was yours and the first i knew i didn't want you to be mine)i think i shut... An Editor's NoteI lose half dream on Thursday and there are no heartstrings to vibrate and echo in its absence no word that’s decent enough to take its place there is not the tentative pause of a movie - the moment before lips touch on Thursday I lose half a dream and say ‘oh’I am told that I will meet people with the universe rubbed into their skin those who carry themselves like an unused jacket half off the hanger I will meet people with sick souls or bird throats people with a laugh like flat stones skidding across a glass lake those who talk about their dogs too much or drink straight from the milk carton people who are thawing instead of teari... AnaestheteSo he tore his roots back from hell’s old circles and set his branches alight from within heaven’s gates, and his leaves burned autumnal for a time.The angels and fallen let out their sighs, and two young lovers carved their letters into an old maple.He did not feel the words cutting, or the love therein.
the five steps of stitching together a wound1. i fall out of love with you on a tuesday. to be honest, i don’t know it’s happening until it’s happened, until i sit in my bed that night and look at the neat holes you’ve left dotting my life. weeks ago, i gave you back your jacket when the weather turned warm enough that i wasn’t smoking with every breath. the space it took up on my desk chair remains emptied, buti am sure it will be filled again soon, with piles of books i will never lend you and poems you will never hear me speak, that aren’t about you, that use words i’ve never told you, like ‘vitriol’ and ‘bubbly’.2. loving you was consuming, was every two in... tumblr boy.you’re my aesthetic with roses wrapped around your fists and dressed in all black from head to toe, you’ve got wanderlust shining in your eyes and sad poetry dripping from your lips, just another punk rock loser with steel in his veins and fear in his heart— your soul is pouting but you hold every ounce of that fuck all attitude you can muster in your slender shoulders because we live in an “eat or be eaten” kinda world but you’d rather just be laying on your bedroom floor listening to the rain make love to your window and your favorite songs whisper in your ear while you silently contemplate life and rebelliously flirt with he... on distancethis is how the distance kills you and this is how the kilometres stretch across your skin like little scales on a map too uniform to measure out your longing. they run down your hands that are always empty and across the spaces to someone whose hands may or may not be collecting the moments you couldn't be bothered to count. you only know that they all fall under the category of another time when i was alone .you take walks. or try to.you end up sitting by your front door, shoes half-laced, and you tell yourself that this is only the first time, that you are allowed time to dissipate and wonder how many synonyms there are for lost .you ... after the party.He's drunk in the backseat. "Anna. Anna. Anna," he moans, as if my name is a broken record his throat can't stop scratching; his voice is nettles and thorns, every natural prick and annoyance. My knuckles go white on the wheel.Ryan's riding shotgun and he won't look at me. "If you need me to drive him home, I can do it," he offers sheepishly. I don't answer, just press my foot to the gas and let the engine's rusty roar engulf John's voice.I peek in the rearview mirror. John's laying across the seat like a dead trout, and I can tell Ryan hasn't even bothered to buckle his seat belt. There's a photo album in John's arms that he clings to wi... The Month of OctoberHugh Everett's ashes are in the dumpster behind the restaurant I work at. I know because they start moving on Monday. By Tuesday, there is a writhing charred leg and parts of his open torso. Wednesday, he speaks to me for the first time."What year is it?""I think you might implode if you knew.""Makes sense. Do you smoke, doll?" I light a cigarette for him, having pulled it with quivering fingers from my apron, and put it in his mouth. He leans up against a garbage bag leaking shake mix and puffs, exhaling clouds. "This is weak. Lady cigarettes."He rips off the filter with his teeth. He only has three fingers on his left hand and his righ... hansel and gretel, with ptsdwhen hansel comes to with the witch dead at his feet, he hangs gretel off him like a blood bag, drags her toes through the dirt, and he thinks she has to be broken in a ballet, she has to be broken in a pirouette. her toes continue to click in her shoes years later, a crunch that he is reminded of years later againwhen the moon hung like it does at midnight, as yellow as a sick child, facing the forest. hansel is rubbing his blue jeans like he does sometimes, the heels of his palms dragging the surface like nails on wood. it feels like fire and coal, a numbing that feels necessary until hansel says, “stop.” and when he sees herher face... BlindLoving you was like being blindEvery shift in your seat every staggered stuttery breath told me more than any glance ever couldI learnt the taste of liquor from your lips a punch-drunk kind of love and I the second hand cirrhosis of your heartI remember the way your body flowed between my fingers a soft expanse of no man’s land which I thought would bloom once more at my touchI caught the scent of you all bitter black coffee and stale cigarettes when you’d been gone a month and I hadn’t moved in days in fear of missing youI recall the way your voice broke like lightning ripping open the sky when your tongue stumbled over the words 'I... Road TripI put a bullet in her head, but she keeps coming back to my front door. That's my fault.But what isn't my fault, what I will never accept as my fault, are the things she leaves on the doorstep for me to find after she staggers back into the lake. They're photographs and diaries, addresses and phone numbers.It's always something horrible--the first photograph was of four men in hoods surrounding a little girl on a plinth in a large stone room. They had cut her vertically along the belly, and her face was distorted. Another time I decided to go to an address; it was in Pittsburgh, a long way from my home. All it was, was an abandoned proje... a retraction of august's horoscope “aquarius, you have fallen in love with the storm again,” the august horoscope reads.it is almost—but not quite—correct. for the sake of astrological accuracy it might be revised to read, “aquarius, you have fallen in love—” (this part may remain) “—aquarius, you have fallen in love in the sticky heat of summer, the air as damp as your skin, heat rising from the tarmac of this flat swamp town.”or perhaps, “aquarius, it will not feel like a storm. there will be no lightning bolts, no thunder. there will be no fire under your skin.”“aquarius, your love will be slow and soft. it will be the sound of leaves rustling ... When you feel you have lost everythingthere are still books you haven’t read and clothes you’ve never worn hanging lonely in your closet. When you feel you have lost everything, there are flowers sleeping under the frost. When you feel you have lost everything, there is a place around the corner you’ve never seen from the other side of the door and a stranger waiting to welcome you in. When you feel you have lost everything, there is a corner of your house filled with dust. When you feel you have lost everything, there are stamps you haven’t used and windows that have never seen pure sunlight. When you feel you have lost everything, there are pennies wasting luck on th... how to healthey say honey to soften the wound, but i let the woolwet with ethanolgnawuntil i amweeping,again, and again,and again Six Word Story #2My older brother hates his breasts. And then I realised, I was a pawn of greater menI'm flying on three tabs of Andraxian Blue. I don't remember taking them, but the Blue has an unmistakable way of splitting your head in two with a four iron. The question is why . It's been years since I've hit anything this hard, and I can already feel it coming on too fast.People surround me like a swarm. Their noise reverberates through my skull, and the stench of their salts fills my lungs and threatens to drag bile out onto the street. They gawk at me. They sense something is different, and they're just waiting for their chance to tear me apart. They keep coming closer, sidling up to me as if nothing is amiss, pretending to look awa...