I'm Still Normal, Right?
He could remember how much he had hated the sight of red ink as a student and found it somewhat ironic that he hated that same ink as much now, if not more so, as a teacher for an entirely different set of reasons.
Born of Chaos Ch. 2
He snapped his talons and a scroll of paper and a quill and ink appeared out of nowhere. the quill was giggling and twitching around in the ink pot.
Work-end out of sight
I fight; striding through oceans of dead, ink-drenced trees, not getting damn closer to anything that matters. some mysterious force must be working against my progress. maybe it is life itself.
01 Ring
#1 of inktober 2019 given that the rules for inktober imply that anything created with ink is valid, and i have a notebook and some pens, i figured i'd take a spin at this. we'll see how long i can keep the momentum going.
Seperated by fate.
Dante sat at his drawing desk, his artists working on the backgrounds for his book, some working on inking in final lines to help make time for release.
Poem #62: Colors Deep
Take me for a drive down the open road of sorrow and of joy listen for the blissfulness wistfullness and glee let the black tar carpets roll underneath my feet of lead and acid rains of fire rain down on my cloudy head i feel the black ink
A Light in the Dark
"_ atlas carefully dipped the tip of his tail in the ink pot, and then he dextrously began writing on the sheet of paper placed in front of him.
Resolutions - Part 12 - December
"i hate that our futures are determined by pieces of paper with ink on them. it's like the world's just full of malicious fortune cookies," i said and gritted my teeth.
On Crimson tide's
Where ever you think is appropriate he said as he dipped a pen into a jar of ink. i have to admire his composure he's handling this very well i thought to myself.
//?A Curious Sergal: Part 4.001
"oh..." was all he could say at first, his mind fixated on the crude hexagon drawn in photoreflexive ink on the paper.
Allow Me to Introduce Myself
This was accompanied by a frantic scribbling on a piece of parchment, and then promptly followed with a slam of the feather returning to the ink well.
The Assassin's Dark Tales-Chapter V: The Contract
In his little study corner, there was his large wooden desk and chair; holding his dictionary, ink bottle, and a fractured skull holding up a thick burning candle, a bookshelf behind him assorted with a slowly growing collection of books.