#tallart

[abazigal]

[vicioushauntings]

ulysses lebeau && khione tallart ;; to topple a guardian

Ulysses has overexerted himself. He’d been drawing moisture from air, sharpening it into burning ice; despite being skilled in his own ability, ice flecked up his arms. His fingers turn raw. Frostbite, he knows, is just around the corner if he doesn’t stop.

But his...er...condition as a cursed blood left him recovering and recollecting himself for far too long as is in the medical tents. How is he of any use sitting around in there? If he just pushes himself a little further - if he just goes a little farther, maybe then it will be enough.

Khione’s dark eyes attract his in the heat of battle. “ --What are you doing here?” He calls out to her. He expects Sif to be at her side - one never seemed far from the other whenever Ulysses spotted the two women throughout Selphia. “Watch out -- right behind you!” He calls to her. His words, however, seem useless. Khione is, of course, more than capable than handling her own. “These monsters have to stop at some point, right? Where are all these...these portals coming from?”

@gcmechanger​

[just-some-random-blogger]

I NEED MORE CREGAN STARKKKKK

Pelts

You were not one to grow jealous, but the knowledge that Lord Stark's favorite pelt cloak was a gift of affection from his old sweetheart inspired anything but affection from you.

Cregan Stark x Reader | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, jealousy, pettiness, fluff, a bit of angst ig????, etc.

A/N: hey nonnie im honored you like my cregan stuff. this is my first req since closing them. i feel like perhaps this is the world telling me i need to start writing fluff again............ lol HAHAH

The Lord of Winterfell had just arrived. Normally, I would meet him with a smile and brush the snow from his shoulders before warming his cheeks with the heat from my own palm. But today, neither did I brush the snow from his cloak, nor did I rub his cheeks. How irritating that he did not see to mind or even notice.

I do not fault him for lapping his meal like a starved beast. He rarely has time to have a proper meal when he is working, let alone when his duty calls him all the way up to The Wall for days on end. And yet, as he gobbled up his food, as though he was denied his whole life, my own appetite left me at the sight.

His tongue swiped the corner of his mouth and yet evidence of his meal remained. He chewed eagerly as he reached out for a cup of wine to wash everything down.

I could not help the face I made at the sound of his belch.

Only then did he recognize me. He sets his cup down, "wife," says Cregan, "you are not eating."

I raise my brows and press my lips into a smile, "I am not hungry, my lord."

My lord. Cregan straightens up from his seat and leans back. He clears his throat as his face twists warily, "are you well?"

I do not respond. I rest my hands upon the table. The candlelight between us flickers momentarily.

He gulps and sets his utensils down. He sighs slowly, "have I offended?"

I clench my hands tightly.

Cregan's eyes flicker to them. He wipes his mouth with a napkin and looks up at me. He does not like that my expression remains the same.

"Your pelt... milord," I mutter.

Immediately, the pelt upon his shoulders feel like a tonne. He rolls his shoulders back and immediately undoes it, "forgive me. It is inappropriate to have it on while-"

"Who gifted it to you?"

He freezes midway. He waits for me continue as he slowly places his cloak upon his lap. His eyes widen slightly, in confusion, in alarm. Was it a gift? He does not recall.

His silence is aggravating. I clench my jaw and lean forward, "do you not wish to tell me?"

Cregan opens his mouth.

"She told me herself."

A line forms between his brows, "who?"

"Lady Tallart."

He pinches his lips together. Lady Tallart? It could not be Edmond Tallart's mother who gifted this. It must be his wife... but which house did she belong to before she was wed?

He looks as though he is trying to recall the instance, the exact moment wherein his cloak was given to him. Somehow, the arduous recollection spurs me further into animosity. I growl, "do you truly not remember?"

He shakes his head, "I do not."

I clear my throat and push myself up from my seat.

Cregan stands quickly, so quickly, in fact, that his chair falls behind him with a loud thud, not that he cares. He calls my name out with concern and it makes me snap.

"I would appreciate it if you chose another cloak to wear."

The man walks over to me, forcing me to lift my gaze upon his worried face. I raise a hand at him before he can think to touch my arm. He withholds his touch.

"Cassandra and I had a cloak tailored in your absence. If it pleases you, you should wear it. However, if it is not to your taste, I can-"

"It is my taste," he interrupts. He nods his head, "the pick of my wife is my taste. I will wear it"

The glow of candlelight on Cregan's cheek makes my stomach roll. Bile rises up from my throat as his brows furrow in nothing but further concern.

"I care little for what I wear," he casts his cloak off to the side, "I care more for what concerns you."

My irritation over the matter bursts into embarrassment in an instant. A burning sensation creeps up from behind me, and soon I can no longer look upon my husband. I look back to the candle on the table and rashly gather my food. Before Cregan can speak, I mutter under my breath, "please enjoy your food, husband."

There's little he can do but watch as I rush off. Two wolves battle inside him, one that wishes to chase after, and another that keeps him still where he stands. Just as he is about to obey the former, the servant girl, Cassandra, comes up to him, "milord. Might I speak my piece?"

He watches as his wife disappears and sighs. He turns to Cassandra, "speak it."

She frowns, "milady has spent the three nights you were away making you a cloak herself."

"Has she?" his brows tighten.

Cassandra nods, "but her needlework is not as good as she wished, which is why she bought you this, milord," she hands him a neatly folded cloak.

Cregan takes it from her and sighs deeply. He unfolds the garb and inspects his wife's gift. He hangs the fabric on his arm and releases another breath, "will you show me my wife's needlework?"

Cassandra looks apprehensive, but she obeys her lord.

The next morning, I rouse to an empty bed. A thousand pins prick my heart, but I have no one to blame but myself for the turn of events.

I sit with myself, all lonesome, before deciding to begin my day. But just before I can dress myself, I hear a commotion from outside my window. I gasp when I see that there had been a buck who wandered inside the stronghold, running around in panic.

I wrap myself with a shawl before opening my window, watching how my husband and his men were trying to scare the deer towards the gate. Soon enough, my jaw drops at the sight of the horrid thing resting upon Cregan's shoulders as he maneuvered around the large creature.

Thankfully, it did not take the deer long to find the exit of Winterfell. The men share relieved sighs and laughter amongst themselves, as did I.

"My lord!"

Cregan, who was now calming down one of the spooked horses, does not hear me.

"My lord!" I call louder, gaining the attention of someone else.

Cregan is pat on the back. A man points skyward. He looks over his shoulder, face brightening at the sight of me. "Lady Stark," Cregan smiles, offering me a nod, "did we wake you?"

I shake my head, "what are you wearing?"

He turns to me and adjusts his lopsided cloak. The thing was hardly even worthy to be called one with how one hem barely met the man's calf and how one shoulder was far fuller than the other. He calls out proudly, "the work of my wife's hands!"

My face contorts, "it is horrid! Remove it at once."

Cregan pulls his head back, "I shall do no such thing."

"I bought you-"

"But I enjoy this," he lifts an arm to flaunt the terrible craftsmanship, "it keeps me warm and it suits me well."

"It does not!"

Cregan furrows his brows in challenge, "does it take away from my handsomeness, wife?"

I press my lips into a line.

The men around him chortle or snigger. Even mine own lips cannot help the chuckle that spills out. And though he was far, I could tell Cregan was awfully pleased with himself.

"If you wish to rid me of this, then you must do so yourself," he strokes the horse's snout, "but know you are challenging the Warden of the North as you do."

I roll my eyes and shake my head, "it is the work of my hands, Lord Stark."

"Which is why you must not rid me of it, my Lady Stark."

We stare at each other for a moment. Cregan's lips curl into a lopsided grin that matches his cloak. I sigh and shake my head once more, "we will speak of this later."

He nods, "as you wish, my love."

I clear my throat and close the window, ignoring the way my belly tumbled at the sound of his pet name.

[crimpyff]

You take the man out of the city;

Not the city out the man.

Yep!! this is my entry for the tallart contest! i had so much fun making this and im super excited to post this ! This art was purely experimental on how to do water (bcs im a sucker for aquariums) and im so so glaad it turned out well ^^

here's another version of it, i honestly love this one more

[kaimukiwahine]

Watching the TallArt stream, it is very wild that they mentioned The Stanley Parable (in terms of the Player is still the same character in each run; not a new "criminal" looking to flee the town).

All the folks who draw the Narrator as a giant person watching over Stanley as a god-like being, you can put that energy into this game haha.

[i-am-megalodonna]

I need to finish my thing for the tallart contest but I'm so sleepy tired

When this is done im drawing the Militsioner taking a nap

[yetanotherrpfinder]

Hello everyone, 👋 and welcome to Tallart, a small town in the middle of Arkansas USA. Come on in, apply for a house and meet your neighbors. From all sorts of town events to disasters, this town is up and coming.

We are a fun open world role-playing writing server looking for lots of new members

-18+ only

-NSFW and SFW welcome

-OC's only

-LGBT friendly

-POC friendly

- no post length requirement

-server events

We look forward to seeing you in our wonderful town someday, even if you're only driving through.

Like if interested and I will reach out with the link!

Like if interested!

[findroleplay]

Hello everyone, 👋 and welcome to Tallart, a small town in the middle of Arkansas USA. Come on in, apply for a house and meet your neighbors. From all sorts of town events to disasters, this town is up and coming.

We are a fun open world role-playing writing server looking for lots of new members

-18+ only

-NSFW and SFW welcome

-OC's only

-LGBT friendly

-POC friendly

- no post length requirement

-server events

We look forward to seeing you in our wonderful town someday, even if you're only driving through.

Like if interested and I will reach out with the link!

_

[pensandotedesnuda]

Planeo…

Pensando en cuando verte,

Ganas inmensas de vos, 

Que quiero decir?,

Dónde comenzar?

Dónde tocarte,

Que parte de tu piel rozar?

Acariciar,

Besar,

Apretar…

Planeo imaginando,

Que será lo que quieres?

Que es lo que mas te gusta?

Que te da placer?

Mucho placer…

Que te quiero sacar sonrisas,

Que me encanta cuando ríes,

También cuando gimes,

Cuando tiemblas,

Gritas…

Planeo llenarte, 

Y cubrirte de besos,

Planeo…

visitar tus líneas,

Explorarte despacio,

Con tiempo…

para repasarte,

Disfrutarte

Y mirarte disfrutar,

Sentirme causante de tu goce,

De tus temblores…

Planeo verte,

Tallarte en mis ojos,

Verte retorcer,

Y como te dejas llevar,

Que me encanta verte disfrutar.

Planeo…

Mis ganas,

Mis deseos de vos,

Y planeo detener el tiempo,

Tenerte inmensamente,

Y planeo…

Volver a comenzar, 

Y volverte a explorar,

Volver a planear otro encuentro con vos.

[joseluisposa]

PARA LINA ZERÓN EN SU ANIVERSARIO

He querido tallarte un poema

arañando la piedra,

arrancando a bocados el mármol

que engendra la tierra,

descendiendo a los senos marinos

en busca de estrellas

que reflejen la luz de tus ojos,

divina poeta.

He excabado hasta hundirme en el magma

de ignotos volcanes,

y alcanzar la matriz primigenia

de la madre tierra,

por hallar el diamante

engendrado por Helios en ella

y engarzarlo en el monte sagrado

que envuelve tu selva.

Pero vuelvo a tu vera

agotado, rendido, humillado,

con las manos repletas de nada

y el alma en un fado

a entregarte un collar de poemas

a fuego labrados

con la llama que un día prendieron

tus versos sagrados.

JOSÉ LUIS POSA

[ocasoinefable]

[Se alargaban los minutos. Se abrían a través de tu boca, yo les sentía apresar el tiempo... se volvían a tus cejas. Aun al abrir las manos te veo en cada respiro, de sujetar y soltar se presenta nombre, se acomoda y duerme entre los dedos, beso al mirrarles, al sentirte allí en cada cosa que toco, en cada espacio por dónde cruzo, al cerrar y olvidar, vuelves. Del color y su acromatico, del polvo y pelusas, partituras y rastros... Sabes Comienzo a contar, a atrapar cada detalle, como pajarillo que pierde sus alas y las ve en su pecho abriendo cada día navegar entre esa sonrisa que es color y su sangre".... Sabes, después de unas horas me temo qu sea el último, mi ánimo asalta... Pero son solo segundos, son de la existencia y parte del querer. Se acerca la roptuar de otro momento, lo pronunciaba el tiempo. Mírame así justo como lo haces, que todo esto será un recuerdo; (desde el primer movimiento, al que se imagina y el último que se soltó al detener de la lluvia) Préstame tu boca en silencio que solo esto me queda al volver a la soledad, al ser un minuto. El tardío de tu labios ciñendo en mi risa, un manglar de mariposas que arrasan y muerden silencio. Me quedo frente la lluvia anidado entre sus gotas, chocando al caer y escribiendo en sus corto instante suspendios. El sonido se mueve y vulevo en sueños. Tus pestañas contienen gotas y mis letras se doblan a reír, a besar, a callar y ser del silenció. Tiro de las ondas, alargó cada minuto y miro tus palabras, se pintan entre la boca, del viento y el vibrato de las cuerdas; se sujeta al color y el tono, se quedan en mi mirar. Lluvia fuerte y tormentosa, apretando la risa contra el latido, el temor a la humedad de las manos, el salto al vacío apresado la granta. Lluvia fugaz y velo, trazando de letras mi piel, espuma entre suspiros. Quiero alargar tus instantes, tatuar en mis ojos cada giro que te trae, tallarte despacio para cuando nos envuleva el tiempo, corre tras la piedras de un cielo, es lo único que me queda al respirar el canto de la lluvia, al verla y volver mis ojos hacia ti, hacia cada una de tus risas escritas en mi memoria]

[abazigal]

cant post her in full bc nsfw but look at my snoman (snake woman)

[migueexhunter]

No pude despedirme personalmente, ni tuve el valor de mandarte un mensaje pero hice mi último acto de amor, viaje horas solo para tallarte 3 momentos felices, espero que cada vez que estes triste, leas eso y recuerdes al tonto que una vez te sonrío. Siempre voy a amarte 🌟

[les-hirondelles-ne-pleurent-pas]

Pon un gato muerto en la vía del tren, el acónito está en flor junto al puente. Consigue el ojo de un gallo, piedras de la cuneta, di que nunca te chivarás. Coge los botones de una chaqueta amarilla, las plumas de un buitre, la sangre del corazón negro como el carbón de un cazarrecompensas. Atrapa las lagrimas de una ventana en un dedal de cristal. Dile a tu mamá y a tu papá que se vayan a tomar por culo, envenena el agua del pozo de los deseos, cuelga todos los espantapájaros de un sicomoro, quema todas las lunas de miel y mételas en la funda de una almohada. Espérame con una navaja en el parque de atracciones, estrangula todas las canciones de Navidad, tacha todas las oraciones, átalas con alambre de espino y tíralas por la escalera. Voy a tallarte una pistola para ahuyentar las pesadillas de tus persianas, esas hijas de perra siempre se acercan sigilosamente por detrás. Saca con un tubo la gasolina de la furgoneta de tu padre y llena el coche de Johnny´s. Tengo un par de dólares. Échate un poco de perfume, ponte una cinta en el pelo. Ten cuidado de no despertar a los perros. Arranca un rayo del borde del cielo, mételo en un cofre de cedro, si quieres te diré por qué. Trae el pomo de la palanca de marchas de un Mercury 49 estírate aquí a mi lado, déjame abrazarte en el barro. Temblarás como una llama, vamos arrancarle la garganta a la noche. Hunde tus dientes en mi hombro, clava tus uñas en mi espalda. Dile a esa niña que suelte mi manga, serás una mujer cuando te atrape. Enamórate de mi. Luego con mi escopeta de doble cañón y una caja entera de cartuchos celebraremos el 4 de julio. Haremos cien millas por hora, derrochando la pasta de otros. Y conduciremos hasta Reno, en el lado equivocado de la carretera.

                                          Wrong side of the road, Tom Waits

[sugar-moon28]

Hace frío acá, hace mucho que hace frío acá. También el oxígeno se está agotando y la comida, bueno no preguntes por eso. Estoy bien, por si me preguntas; yo me quedo en una esquina de este cuarto todos los días y miro el suelo mientras cuento las rayas que no cambiarán, como tú y yo. Poco a poco la luz va y viene, como tú aquella noche en que nos conocimos en la calle mientras caminábamos hacia la misma tienda de libros viejos; puedo ver tu sonrisa hacerme una señal de bienvenida y a mí corazón alistarse para un salto hacia el vacío, te devuelvo la sonrisa. Las tardes a tu lado siempre fueron cortas, nunca me alcanzó el tiempo para poder mirarte lo suficiente y tallarte en mi memoria porque mis manos son torpes al igual que mis palabras. Me dediqué a recortar frases que me recordaban a ti y pegarlas en las paredes, te reías cuando entrabas al cuarto y leías un fragmento de cualquier soneto o prosa recortado con ansía por mis manos que más de mil veces te recorrieron.

¿Dónde estás ahora? Hay días en que creo verte casada y estás tan ausente como el silencio de la amada de Neruda. Pero estas ausente de mí, de aquí, de nosotros, se te está acabando el amor y yo me emprendo en darte de mi lumbre para no quedarme a oscuras porque me da miedo, me da pánico estar a solas con mis monstruos mientras cierro mis ojos fuerte y cuento hasta mil. ¿Por qué no me dijiste? Creo que hubiera podido lidiar con el dolor más fácilmente si me hubieras dicho que no pensabas quedarte para siempre, que "para siempre" es relativo, es una promesa de las tantas que no supiste mantener: quédate, cuidarme, no aburrirte, amarme, crecer conmigo, viajar, leerme antes de dormir. Por tu culpa he dejado de escribir, tomar un bolígrafo me pone de nervios y hace que el día se coloque gris acá. Por eso está frío, muy frío, he tomado hoy un lápiz y en los muros escribo tu nombre. En la oscuridad ya no hay monstruos, sólo tu voz diciendo "lo siento".

[rafaeldeliso]

El Araguaney y El Ávila.

En el poblado he escrito una carta para ti. El Araguaney me prestó sus áureas flores y su corteza para tallarte lo que mi corazón ha sentido por ti. El Ávila ha sido testigo. La polvareda trae hojarascas. Un ángel bate sus alas con tu reminiscencia. Una carretera interminable no me hace llegar a ti como debiera. Sin embargo, te trae el crepúsculo. Te trae con los prístinos luceros intermitentes. Recorro este camino de tierra pensando en ti. Todo el día gira tu nombre entre esas flores pero la tuya la supera. Quizás yo viva en tus historias y al final sepas que el personaje principal murió sin darle un beso a su amada. Así son los sueños cuando el amor es puro y verdadero.

Rafael Deliso Guerra. 2 de junio de 2020. Uruguay.

https://www.instagram.com/p/CA8yYDMJqy9/?igshid=t4owoug19nbe