My 12 Lives

Aries - A whole new world

In Pisces she wept and fell to sleep, a mermaid tail drifting in a sea by her side. All was calm, and then began the storm. A fireball in the sky,
a new season, a new beginning, a hurricane to drop a child inside. From the storm the Aries was born, learning to walk and talk, forgetting the mermaid tail she took 12 lifetimes to sew. She looks for magic behind every corner, always expecting something astonishing and new. Through fierce suppression or taught shame, her spirit becomes poisonous, because she is a wild heart, free and untameable, as young as the spring, as pure as the wind. And she may hold violent secrets, or act of some destructive urge that sings a song of impulse. Instant self gratification is important, consuming the world is important. Everything seems so foreign as if nothing ever existed before she was born. Now she is in a world that seems to have forgotten her, a princess of the night through her last lifetime. Her scarlet aura conducting fires in the horizon, a child chasing shapes in the clouds. Twinkle twinkle little star
now I know who you are

Taurus - Rest and Rectitude

It had all been so loud, so busy, so exhausting. Pushed from one frantic lifetime to the next, the Taurus woke up tired, her body seeming to be entwined with vines, her ears buzzing with the sound of wildlife. She walks through the forest to find hideaways opening just for her
a priestess of the flowers, a mother to the earth, a reflection of pure beauty, an earthy Aphrodite. Her eyes glaze with the glassiness of still waves, her hair matted with herbs, it’s time to rest now, to flourish in a world that suddenly became soft to touch and delicious to taste. She could never truly cherish her surroundings before, life past through her in such a frenzied flash
sometimes there are old anxieties that creep in, reminding her of chaos and carnage, hitting the walls of a palace she has built
founded on integrity, diplomacy, and the laws of nature. She approaches the day with sleep still in her eyes, often relying on caffeine to adjust to human life. If she could flitter through life on natural time, she would sleep for days, and cherish the stillness of night

Gemini ~ Wings of a Butterfly

She cocooned herself into a flower bed last time around, like a chrysalis. The tired Taurus and a breath of fresh air was blown from heaven, the Gemini awoke, a butterfly with a golden helmet on her mind. Energy released in erratic form, the only way was to spiral upwards with the other winged creatures
sending messages through ether, delighted at making sounds, twists and turns with words. Suddenly the mind leaves the body behind, she is a floating balloon
Full of wonderful tales and facts and insights, illuminating the light behind her eyes when her mind is alive. And she can stay awake thinking for days, stimulated by internal conversation. Her responsibilities and plans can vanish,
as if she has completely forgotten. She can find herself in a mess of paperwork and clothes, unable to escape the hold of her mind, deciding with one personality but in conflict with another, split memories of life revealing themselves untimely. And she can be chastised for her scattered mind, often forgetting the most basic of things yet she can keep you captivated for hours under the spell of conversation, whisking words in her mind like a magic maze, every age and time in a myriad of marvellous mental somersaults

Cancer - Timeless Woman

The incessant chatter of Gemini drifted into the back of her mind, turning into long conversations on the beach, the tide washing words with memories. In cancer time, every minute could be a moment, there is the possibility for growth, enlightenment, and meaning in every experience, the pinnacle events of life felt with a reverent glory, to marry, to love, to held, to be held, to be welcomed home, and be kissed as she leaves for the world.
She is not bound indoors, but rather makes a presence and a home out of everything, constructing hideaways in secret fantasies and re illustrated memory. Before it was all about learning and squeezing facts out of life, now it is about withholding life, or giving birth to beautiful life, whether it be her own, a child, or something or someone she cherishes. People are stain glass windows to her lunar sculpted eyes, their feelings moving like colours, their psychic activity enveloping her like a heatwave. And you wonder why she can’t sleep, when its something her spirit so desperately needs. But your worry is her worry, and you give it to her while you fall asleep

Leo ~ Harlequin and Heroine

Wielding light at her command, this was a woman who formerly ruled the Moon. Illuminated from the heart, a golden child of the cosmos
an heiress of the day, almost sick on sunbeads. The whole charade can be in disarray, born into a kingdom of chaos and neglect. Her howl is enough to spin the earth so the sun burns nearer
feeling temperature creep into your chest, and that’s the feeling of her breath. Sun honey, a crown made of maple syrup whipped by stars. Before she had given life, and wept, and provided for. She taught to love and how to feel. And now she is all these sensations in her own side show riel
A cast selected by the heavens. A script written by a royal soul. A child at heart forced to be an actress on a stage, garnering adornment and command, painting an image with colours drenched in soul tie-dye
Tonight she fades away, but she comes to life on stage, or in your eyes, or lying with your heartbeat by her side. She feels music and cinema, she can see a part of herself in every character. Life fades as quick as fame

Virgo - Butterfly Mind

Sunburn punctures through her, a coursing burn shivers, her mind on fire, alive with anxiety and thoughts dancing in intricate design like butterflies. Charring burn down her tummy, more tension inside, stings on their wings, nervous sickness. The Leo spotlight was so loud and chaotic, the audience applause become deafening screeches in her ear, pride longing for the recognition. But the show has ended, and the Virgo has been left behind
only a shadow for company in genius that has lost its mind. The show has ended and the only audience member remaining is the critic, ready to spit his words of venom, turning up the houselights and shining them right on pretend flaws. And the only way to leave was to get down on her knees, to begin repairing herself, to scrub the world clean. The celebration is over, and now she is stuck in her mind, desperately trying to settle a million anxious butterflies

Libra Lightshow

To be a perfect mannequin, oh that was the dream. As a Virgo she sewed threads until her lungs couldn’t exhale. But now she is the dreamer of dreams, the writer of romance novels, and the personification of art. Mirror mirror on the wall, who is the most loved by all? Libra is ruled by Venus, the Goddess of Beauty, sweet Aphrodite, rising from a watery clam into the airy clouds. This is where Libra dwells, painting the sky with her thoughts, dazzling like diamonds in the sun. With a pen feather in her hands she narrates the law of the land, reigning in on righteous justice and morality. Her body moves in harmonious symmetry, graceful, her expression warm and then glacial, for she is a woman born under the air swords, so intellect rules, beauty is in the eye of the beholder
and the mind is the beholder, so sharpen your wit before you challenge her judgement, she may be vague when she enters the story she reads
But she can be a woman scorned to those who threaten her allegiances or breed toxicity, the illusion and the glamor of a hall of mirrors, each face of a flower petal projecting through entrancing display. Daughter of the equinox, blessed with a cherubin face and allure, sorely misunderstood, she is not a flirter but a lover, a woman who finds parts of herself in everyone, parts of herself she longs to love, so she longs to love you, let her love you, it will be the most exquisite thing you ever do

Scorpio - Sea Siren

She plummeted from a jewel high in the sky, the cotton candy of Libra
free falling into the bottom of the ocean. Surrounded by all sorts of strange creatures, sea entities wearing the faces of demons, fighting to survive, born inhaling poisonous water.  And so life seems like a swim upward, but the pressure so harsh, the voices of ghosts are only under the surface, surrounded by hollow mermaids, sailors who have lost their life, between two worlds, the alive and the passed. She learned to love in Libra, but now she is forced to love the darkness, to cherish the beasts in herself  that claw at the inside of her skin, to be an instrument of light infusing with shadow. The sun shining through the cracks, the burn she can feel on her shoulder blades in quiet moments, it seems like sun from the bottom of the ocean, but that is soul, that is her soul, radiating across a hidden treasure island.

Sagittarius - The End and the Beginning of Everything

Waking from what seemed like eternal death, a lifetime of dying over and over as a Scorpio, becoming a phoenix, and now dancing in the dazzling sky, like jade diamonds. Flying over all the lives she has seen, every experience fills her mind with another location, another tropical island filled with mythological secrets and opportunity. She learned the art of psychic activity as a Scorpio, and now she is in tune with cosmic timing, living in a future arranged by vision, light, and prophecy. And yet it can all feel so incomplete, having kissed death and returned to reunite with a godly lover, through wind, trees, snow, and sea. One part of her body longs for the soil of the ground, the taste of real love, the human experience, grand and simple. And yet the spirit source caresses her to elevate higher, leave the lower mind behind and anybody who dwells there, for she must meet God face to face, with no church or temple or orgasm to hide behind. Ah, this is the essence of life. To believe what she has not seen, but to believe she will, so from the sky angels dwell but concealed by her own will. Sometimes she is too scared of her own greatness, she is after all, a hunter, one whose heart is reserved for the highest priestess.

Capricorn - What Becomes of Unfulfilled Dreams

The celebration of Sagittarius was over, the room was dark, and it’s almost like
performing a whole night of making up for the night before, or the life before. The Capricorn shakes on the ledge of the highest cloud, a mere push of
invalidation or discredit enough to send her tumbling roughly onto earthly concrete, the whisper of success in her ear flying kites in the sky. Between two worlds she seems to live, seemingly forced into responsibility from the
moment she took her first breath. Every experience and achievement forced through some sort of harsh institution, a secret life where she is berated
by her own volatile voices, and a life where is must play every role with
infinite ease, displaying qualities beyond human.
Echoes of children’s laughter play like violins in her ear, a harsh reminder of a life she was never permitted to know. A world alone. The rings of Saturn the karma she is forced to bear, undertaking the duty of confronting all the madness and the  pains of the Gods. And you want her to love you? You criticise her for not showing heart? That’s all she has ever shown.

Aquarius - Bleeding Rainbows

The world was loud and cold when she took her first breath, the lingering
shadow of life as a Capricorn haunting as she shook right to her bones. Tip toeing between clouds she tried to balance the crown on her head
all she had ever known was trying to survive and now she was a mother, a lover, a guardian to every child. When she laughs rainbows from the sky appeared, she is the angel of righteousness, truth, and humanitarianism. But the responsibility is heavy, and the crown becomes straining, alone she dwells, waiting for something to change, for people to change and find their hearts, and soul, and spiritual mind so she can descend and be free, so she can live on her vibrational harmony. As a Capricorn she had already walked the temple with Saturn, and now she had been summoned for another round, and her heart was already tired, and the voices were still so loud. She had achieved so much and yet how could she feel so empty and alone? She felt betrayed by their hatred and love of war and destruction. But there was soul and she could feel it, so
her mind sang with electric impulses of spiritual nectar
a milkshake of elevation for every being. You can sometimes catch her jumping from cloud to cloud, leaving a trail of teal flickering lanterns behind

Pisces - Mermaid Mirror 

After waking from what seemed like eternal sleep, she tumbled quickly,
plunging into deep water, taking a breath, but it wasn’t
water, it was air, it was earth, and she choked. Eleven times this happened, and the 12th time she realised this was life, 11 other spirits dwelling inside. The smell of heaven and everythingness seduced her from the invisible, whispering in her ear to come home, to shut her eyes and leave this world behind. She tried to walk but never really got her balance, the floor always slipping below her, her feet only having the memory of a mermaid tail. Everything can seem directionless and unsafe, like nobody could truly ease the sores in her spirit. She constantly attempts to swim away in oblivion, but a silver cord tugs her back to earth, reminding her of intense spiritual obligation, contracts she wrote with angels and demons. She has divine truths whispered in her ear, she also has lies, the trickster’s bride. As an Aquarius she had lifted humanity, she had raised a global generation of pure heart, she swung her legs off  the clouds, but now she was burned out, longing to fall asleep again, but she needed more energy than anybody to satisfy 11 other spiritual energies. 



Originally posted by spirits-of-lavender

I’ve been wanting to make this brief introduction to lychnomancy ever since I made my first post about the different forms of Pyromancy and after reaching the 400 follower milestone, I figured it was about time!

Now, admittedly, lychnomancy is not a very complex practice. It is a very basic form of divination involving three identical candles arranged in a triangle; you ask a question, light the candles, then focus on your query as you or someone else interprets the candle’s flames. 

If one flame burns brighter than the others, the answer is a positive one. Wavering or flickering flames indicated a journey, or that you may encounter obstacles. If your flame spirals upward, enemies are plotting against you. An uneven flame indicates danger. If sparks occur, caution is advised. It is considered very bad luck if all flames are extinguished at once, but I have never personally seen this occur and consider it rare!

Originally posted by she-is-beautifully-broken

Despite being rather simplistic, I really do love this form of divination. It speaks to me on a level that I cannot describe and every time I read the flames to answer my own questions, it feels deeply personal. 

I’ve taken creative liberty with this practice to spice things up every once in a while. Sometimes I will take a crystal that represents my emotions, charge it with my thoughts and feelings, and place it in the center of the three candles just before lighting them, as a way of focusing. This way the fire is able to draw on the power of raw emotion. Other times I will include tarot, using a combination of a single card and the three flames to find the answer to my question. It feels more detailed and dynamic this way.

I love what fire represents. It is the energy of life. It is passionate, raw and untamed. Dangerous, necessary, creative, and destructive. It is the most lively of the elements, and it can do so much. It is no different in lychnomancy. When practicing, keep that in mind. A simple candle flame can be so many different things, and it’s important to be in touch with your emotions when you practice any sort of pyromancy. However, be sure to balance yourself out afterward. If you do get this involved with your divination you’ll start to feel burnt out, like a candle at the end of its wick. Take a moment, drink some water - to put out the flames inside, of course - and breathe. Use the other elements to ground yourself. Sit on the floor, breathe deeply, and have some water nearby.

Originally posted by blackaestheticsoul

 As a special gift to all of my followers, I will be keeping my divination requests open throughout the month of May starting today, April 30th! I will be answering questions using the very basic form of lychnomancy as not to exert myself with constant, draining sessions. Feel free to send me an ask at any time ( anon or not! ) with any questions you may have, and I will answer it as soon as I am able!

Practice safely, my witchy friends~

For @illustraice and her amazing Sun/Moon spirit au? THIS WAS SO RUSHED, BY I wanted to give you something in addition to the writing.

Thank you for all your amazing work. (PLEASE DON’T LISTEN TO EINE KLEINE BY RACHIE. it really hurts with this au.)

It’s entirely a lie that the gods whisper amongst themselves. Behind soft tones and intrepid smiles, he knows what they say about her. About him.

But his golden light conceals too much. He can’t see the truth behind the glaring brightness of his own being.

They say that she’s weak without him. That they’re two halves of a broken whole, and that the moon cannot shine without the sun.

They forget that she is the night sky and all it encompasses. They forget that she holds the stars in her small hands, that she grasps the distant galaxies with her glowing night.

He doesn’t get to see her much. But when he does, the old scars across his back and his chest and the ones that sear in his heart all ache.

Vague memories of bloodless war flit through his mind. Her blue eyes are ever closed in his presence. Her dark gown spilling over like ink around her form.

She is perfection. Everything he is not.

She is not his to have. Her silver heart belongs to a human she once met.

She reaches for a man she knows is no longer living. But her moon shines just for him…for Adrien.

It wanes when the remembrance of war hurts her. It waxes red and full when her anger writhes and pulls at the oceans.

She once was human. Once was on earth long enough to meet a boy with golden hair like wheat and eyes the color of sunlight through leaves. A boy who fought in a revolution with ideals as pure as newly born life wavering under the spring sun.

“Wait for me. Wait for me, my Lady. When it is over, we can see each other again.”

But he never came for her. She’d searched long and hard across the streets of Paris, her form slowly shifting as the constellations on her back faded.

Mortals had so often made wishes on her stars, but she lamented that she cannot do the same as her heart leaked open and her tears doused the corpses that littered the battleground.

It’s been centuries, and her heart still aches.

(As do the old scars that gleam like starlight across her ribs and back, the scars the curl around her legs like sea foam.)

So she waits with a smile that cuts across the dark like her crescent moon, watching the world turn while she waits for a soul to be reborn. Her eyes drift into a sleep, dreams dancing across her sight full of wishes she cannot grant.

It is the strangest thing, he thinks, to make wishes on a flower.

The Earth is such a beautiful balance…one who’s beauty brings with it a sharp regret that he can’t quite recall.

There’s peace in this field of sunflowers that rise like curious sentinels for their king. He feels safe in their shade, hidden from the glare of his own sun.

There’s a little lark that sits on his shoulder, head tilted inquisitively at him. He gives it a gentle smile, and turns back to the flower he holds.

(The local flower spirit…a tiny pink robed girl by the name of Rose…has kindly left him to his devices.)

But he holds not a sunflower, but a delicate dandelion in between his warm hands, and he heaves a breath.

“I want to see her.” He whispers.

He watches the seeds drift away on the sudden breeze. They spiral upwards into the sharply blue sky, a color that distinctly reminds him of the one he adores.

His wish is carried away on the breeze. He hopes the wind spirit cannot hear it. But then again, he wonders if he should have wished on the stars instead.

Maybe then she would have heard the sound of his golden heart reaching across the sky for her.

They meet once more during an eclipse.

He thinks it oddly fitting that the darkest time of existence for him is when he can see her.

She thinks it oddly disquieting that the brightest time of existence for her is when they cross paths.

An eclipse. Solar or lunar, she can’t quite tell yet.

But those familiar tendrils of heat reach out for her. Her hands feel cold and there’s an old timeliness pain that lances through her as he calls her name.

Still, she curls into herself, a full moon who’s silvery light wanes in the face of the golden sun.

Her eyes remain closed, but somehow, her frigid fingers reach across the brief expanse, seeking a warmth they do not want.

“What are you afraid of, Night? Why do you curl away from me?” He calls out, slight irritation causing him to flare red and orange for a moment.

She lets the frost under her shadow creep into her tone…lets the elegance of snow and ice under stars color her answer.

“I don’t love you. I don’t want eternity with you. We may remain friends.”

He’s frustrated. And he can’t catch her glance, because still her eyes are closed against him and the tears well up in his own gaze.

“I understand.” He says quietly, and the rest of the eclipse is spent in silence.

But there’s a gentle smile in her goodbye and he just barely catches the tips of her fingers to press a burning kiss to them.

She opens her eyes the smallest bit, oddly gray in the light of the blue stars that color her gown.

And then they part.
She hears the wish he made on her brightest star.

She can’t grant it.

They think the night needs the day to shine. How wrong they are…it is the day that wholly depends on the night.

It is his golden heart that aches for her. It is his balance that is broken when she disappears and he remains.

Her night sky remains, but there’s a wailing loneliness that makes it seem so much dimmer.

His cries echo across the stars, and his tears become rain.

She hides on Earth, and while her heart aches still, she shifts her dark umbrella higher over her shoulders and lets the tears roll cruelly over it.

She cannot grant his wish when she’s working so hard to grant her own.

There’s someone she needs to find.

anonymous asked:

Could you do an Analogical fluff oneshot where they're stargazing outside? Either human AU or as themselves in the mind palace please. By the way, you are an amazing and a great writer! :)

I need to distract myself from the world so I’ll take a break from studying and do this real quick. And thanks for the compliment. I don’t know what to do with it. You’re too kind.

“It’s nice.”

“What’s nice, pocket protector?” Anxiety said, lying on the grass next to Logic.

“When you and Patton are quiet.”

This could have seemed like an insult but Virgil knew exactly what he meant. There was no feeling when Thomas was fully engaged in something. Only doing. Or watching, as was the case here. But this wasn’t quite like being in flow when Logan and Creativity were buzzing around.

“There’s nothing.” Virgil said, looking for clarification.

“Yes.” Logan breathed, content. “No feeling. Just… reality and coexistence.”

They sat there on the ground of the mindpalce looking up through Thomas’ eyes. Feeling the grass underneath him and focusing on nothing but the stars and the frozen breath spiraling upwards that only dissipated.

They were both silent. The entire self was empty in the best possible way. Roman and Morality were off in their own little corner, probably talking about it. Or crying, more likely. It was that beautiful.

But Virgil and Logan had no need for that. Their emptiness was much quieter. For Virgil it was almost like he was fading in and out of existence, but not in a frightening way. It was comfortable, like willingly giving up your consciousness for the sake of sleep.

They both understood it. Just existing. No thinking. No worrying. Just tracing the stars with Thomas’ eyes and letting every speck fill them up.

No words needed to be said.

amortentia [young!tom riddle x reader] pt.2

premise:  En sa beauté gît ma mort et ma vie. [In her beauty rests (both) my death and my life]
Tom Marvolo Riddle never fancied anyone - to be fair, he did not think he could. Though, an encounter on his first train to Hogwarts had left a deep impression that he very much could love someone, though if that someone could love him with all of his secrets was a different question, one that he was eager to find out yet was awfully curious of. You always intrigued him. From the very first day the two of you met, to the very last…

warnings: angst, disturbing themes, fluff, blood

amortentia masterpost | MASTERLIST.

Originally posted by my-harry-potter-generation

2. The prince in shinning armor.

A hiss of pain and a meek yelp. A thud. The grass beneath your fingers bites the inside of your sensitive palm and with great struggle you manage to pull yourself off the ground yet quickly falter with another gritted teeth cry. The rest of the class is set ablaze with murmurs and slowly lets themselves down from their brooms, though are not quick to approach you. A yell of your name starts things into motion; Katherine leaps from her hoovering broomstick and bolts across the yard, successfully jumping over your own laying broom just a few meters away from you and dropping to her knees where you have fallen. Pain shoots up like venom, burning everything at its wake and springing tears in those bright (colour) eyes. My ankle, you realize, my ankle! your mind repeats almost frantic yet you are cautious to examine the damage.

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anonymous asked:

In the show Dany says that Drogo raped her. But I was wondering, do you think that is something that GRRM will have her say also? Tho he did rape her, I believed she genuinely grew to care for him but I just can't decide if her speech in s7 is one GRRM will come up with or if he will keep her seeing as someone she cared for? i was just wondering what your opinion was?

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Uncommon Destiel A/B/O Fics

A collection of Destiel A/B/O fics that have an uncommon or underused take on the A/B/O trope, broken down by type.  This is not intended as a rec list, but more of a collection of fics that break away from the common alpha/omega pairing/identity in various ways.  It’s broken down by category and a fic may appear in multiple categories.

Fics with asterisks (*) have only been verified by tags.
Bolded fics are the most recent additions.

Gender Identity

Sexual/Romantic Identity
Spectrum is used to cover a range of identities.  Fics may have more specific tags or none at all.




If you know of a fic not listed here, please send it my way or message me!

Societal Flips, Other/Miscellaneous and Just Mentioned/Non-Destiel categories and other contributors are now under the cut to save on length.

Last Updated: 3/2/17

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So I know that Christmas comes before New Years but honestly Taylor Swift’s new song New Year’s Day is so so good and I just had to write about it. So, here’s some wolfstar after a wild night with fluff and warm snuggles.

there’s glitter on the floor after the party

Remus could feel it in his gut, a burning warmth, when he opened his eyes. It felt, as they had lied together last night, ankles hooked, that the sun should never come up. That it could stay, beaming down on the other side of the world while their side stayed dark, lit only by the fireworks that littered the sky, making the glitter on the floor look like it was still falling, shimmering in the air, reflecting the sparks as they showered and never quite touched the earth. It had surrounded them. The small pieces of silver had been in their hair, stuck in the folds of their clothes. They had fallen when Sirius pressed him against the door, shutting it under their weight, like shattering bits of the moon. It had created a trail from the door as Remus had walked them towards the bed, fingers digging into Sirius’ shoulders. And they had risen again when, from their fallen place on the bed, they were sent spiraling upward for a last time as their tangled bodies fell to the mattress, lips urgent and tasting of champagne and chocolate cake.

Sirius’ hands had been warm as they pushed up and under his shirt, his breath hot against his neck as he pull them close again once all barriers had been removed. Remus remembers the feeling of his smooth, bare shoulder under his fingertips as he had clutched at it, lips parted and panting. His eyes had been shut tight at the feeling of Sirius against him until color exploded on the other side of his eyelids and he blinked, torn between looking and feeling. Outside, through the windows that took up more space than the wall, sparks were showering, reflecting off the planes of Sirius’ back and suddenly he was drawn to that too. He watched as the firework colors, purple and blue and soft, soaked into Sirius’ tanned skin between the dips that his clenched fingers made in his back, interrupted only by the slow movement of Sirius’ body against his own.

Sirius’ breathing was labored in his ear, “Re…”

Remus couldn’t find his voice to respond and just pressed his lips to the warm skin of Sirius’ neck, as if trying to soak the colors into himself. His hands tangled in the thick hair at the back of his neck, dark against the lit up sky. He let instincts take over and nipped gently at the skin, his palm pressed to the other side of Sirius’ neck, feeling his pulse quicken. Sirius let out a breath, his movements stilling with a soft moan, and he let his head fall back, let Remus press him back into the mattress, legs sliding to rest on either side of his hips. Remus let his hands press to the warm skin of Sirius’ chest, a soft sound coming out as he felt Sirius’ wind around his torso, as if trying to gather him closer towards him.

The night had gone on like that, bathed in soft hues, tangled in the sheets. He stretched his fingers and could feel a piece of confetti beneath his palm. He sat up, and felt another beneath his toes on the hardwood floor. The winter air hit his skin through the drafty windows and he shivered, wing bones pressing outward as he folded his arms together in an effort to keep warm.

“S’not time yet…”

Remus looked back, smiling softly and reaching behind him to take Sirius’ outstretched fingers into his own.

“Hm…” Sirius’ eyes closed again, “Come back to bed.”

“I was going to bring us tea. Think we could use it after last night.” Remus raised an eyebrow, and flopped onto his stomach, nose inches from Sirius, “Especially you.”

Sirius just smiled sleepily, nudging his nose forward against Remus’, “Jus’ wanna be in bed.” He cupped the back of Remus’ neck, bringing their lips together gently, “Don’t you wanna start the new year right?” His sucked Remus’ lower lip into his mouth, biting gently.

Remus tilted his chin forward, chasing the feeling, struggling a little onto his knees before pushing his hands through Sirius’ hair, “Think we already did, don’t you?” He pressed one more lingering kiss to Sirius’ mouth, “Earl Gray?”

Sirius hummed in approval. He lay quietly for a moment, watching Remus pull a thick pair of sweatpants on and one of their sweatshirts, before getting up with a groan himself and following Remus to the kitchen, wrapped in nothing but the thick throw blanket that rested at the end of their bed. As Remus stood, waiting for the tea to boil, he crept up behind him, engulfing them both in the gray fleece, “Y’know,” He placed a kiss to the top of Remus’ spine, “You should take your clothes off too.”

Remus snorted, nearly dropping the knife that he was smearing butter on toast with, and Sirius pressed his nose into the dimple on his cheek that appeared, trying to nonchalantly push the waistband of his sweatpants low. Remus let him, setting the toast down and turning in Sirius’ arms, tugging his sweatshirt over his head.

“See?” Sirius grinned, “Starting the year off right.”

Remus just hummed, tugging him closer as snow started to fall outside.

you and me forevermore

anonymous asked:

psst: hand holding :)

It wasn’t a gentle catch.

Tony just barely got ahold of him, both hands digging into his forearm, and although Tony tried to swoop with Steve’s momentum, the catch was far from smooth. Steve’s shoulder jarred so fiercely he could hear it groan. He gritted his teeth against the fiery ache in his shoulder socket even as he strained the muscle to leverage himself closer to Tony.

“You know I have a heart condition,” Tony said, his voice clear over the comms.

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Val Royeaux. Any resident, a “Royan,” will say it is the greatest city in the world. Many take such pride for arrogance, but they do so through smiles as they nod in agreement, for such is the cost of doing business in the capital. Val Royeaux is in every way a world leader—in commerce, culture, and its own exaggerated beauty.

The site was founded during Evrion’s grand unification, the result of a mix of influences not such much balanced as driven together. And while such an amalgamation would be cause for chaos elsewhere, the prosperity of the region has enabled an upward spiral of indulgence. The capital has endured the ages to become a beacon of civilization, and its citizens the measure of modernity.

—Excerpted from Val Royeaux: Excesses Grand and Otherwise by (formerly) Sister Laudine

‘My Cup of Tea’ (Sherlock x Reader)

requested by  nekokawaiimewmew <3

prompt; (’my cup of tea’ title)  the reader enjoying a very peculiar brand of tea and as sherlock starts developing feelings for her he starts liking the tea brand too /  Oh man, the title prompt “My Cup of Tea” with Sherlock sounded so cute! Would you mind writing it out? Thanks so much!

words; 957

warnings; none


Tomato mint tea was indeed a very strange and frowned upon flavor that many would not even dare to place in their home. However, this was never the case for you, since you always had at least three packs stored away in your cabinet for whenever you needed a hot drink. It was not common to have it, even rarer to enjoy it, and you were one of those peculiar exceptions that were both.

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The downward spiral

We all do it. We come in to a safer place and then one person says something like “my schedule blows”. Then the next person talks about how bad that test was. Then it almost turns in to a competition of who’s week sucks most.

I got called out on this today, so today I’d like to start an upward spiral. Let’s talk about the roses instead of the thorns.

Here are the bright spots for my week:
- I have a great summer schedule line up. I like all of my attendings and I have friends on shifts.
-I’m almost done with my latest case paper and I think it’s really good
-finally got a modification down to practice constitutional hydro on my toddler, which brought kiddo away from serious cough possible secondary pneumonia land back to normal cold land. This medicine is awesome.
- went to a student alliance for integrative medicine meeting as the ND rep and met awesome students in different disciplines.

What were your joys?

Recommended Listening: Let Me Die - Abel Korzeniowski

She dreams of iron. A rusty sword in her mouth, prying open her lips, between her teeth. It’s in the hands of a shadow she doesn’t know, wearing a face she doesn’t recognize. A rough hand on her jaw, keeping her still. She knows this dream. She’s had it before. It changes today. Today the shadow moves, hand over her face, thumb in her eye. She wakes to an arm underneath her back, forcing her to sit upright. The cough bubbles in her throat, and the blood drools from her lips. He raises an already stained cloth, tenderly wiping away every last drop. “My Warden,” he murmurs.

She tries to protest when he leans closer, hands against his chest, pushing him away. He doesn’t care. He takes her face in his hands, pulls her into the kiss. A long, deep, lingering thing, his lips pressed desperately against hers. When Zevran pulls away, she can see her blood upon his mouth. Her head tilts curiously, as she can also see the heat that radiates from him. The colors that swirl about him. His pulse, beating in his veins. He’s frowning, and the gentle hands on her face tighten.

He turns her ever so carefully, his face so near to hers. He studies her left eye, once so bright, now gray and glassy. She raises her hand, covers the eye. The one the shadow had taken in her dream. He presses his forehead against hers, squeezes his eyes closed. She wraps her arms around his neck, and they draw each other in. His head on her shoulder, her head against his. He had said nothing at the skin that grew paler, and the spots like bruising. The darkening underneath her eyes. The black veins that spiral upwards. He says nothing here either, just, “mi amore.”

She’s moving, shifting, straddling him with her hands on his shoulders as he kisses her collarbone. She draws the knife from underneath his pillow. Wind beats against the side of their tent, the first drops of rain beginning to fall. She reaches for his hands, wraps his hands around the hilt, her hands wrapped around his. The blade she presses against her belly. “Don’t let me,” she says, “don’t let me become one of them.”

His expression darkens. He casts the knife away from them, throwing it against the ground. He wraps his arms around her waist, holds her close. “I will not,” he promises. “We will find the cure.” She leans back, taps a finger underneath his chin. He looks up at her as she traces the lines of his tattoo. She kisses his forehead, hands threading through his hair. “Just a little longer, my Warden. Stay with me a little longer.”