deeper than bones

based on this suggestions blog.  warning:  these are pretty dark/angry  &  could be triggering to some people.  please be cautious before proceeding!!

‘  all i want in my life is for my friends to be able to touch me suddenly  &  me to not flinch away without meaning to.  when will this stop affecting me?  ’
‘  all i want is to be soft  &  gentle,  but i’m made out of steel  &  anger.  maybe in another life,  i guess.  ’
‘  beauty is in the eye of the beholder,  so choose to see beauty in everything.  ’
‘  burning it all to the ground  &  force them to start again.  they made you lose everything.  now return the favor.  ’
‘  do i ever even cross your mind or do i do all the thinking of us on my own?  ’
‘  do you trust me enough?  do you trust me at all?  ’
‘  don’t you dare abandon me.  ’
‘  even after all you have done,  i will always want you fighting on my side.  ’
‘  every time i see you smile i fall in love with your brightness all over again.  ’
‘  everyone i have ever loved is long gone.  i sing to the sky alone.  ’
‘  everyone i touch gets hurt,  but i can’t stop.  i touch  &  i touch  &  i touch  &  people get hurt.  why can’t i ever stop?  ’
‘  everyone says i used to be a hero,  but i can still taste the blood in my mouth  &  still feel bruises blooming because of my fists  &  my eyes are still stretched wide  &  terrified.  ’
‘  everything i love has been taken from me.  what do i have left to fight for?  ’
‘  fall in love with someone that makes you feel strong.  ’
‘  friends are more important than any material object will ever be.  ’
‘  i am aching to hold you  &  keep you safe,  to be pressed against you so that nothing can harm you.  ’
‘  i am divine  &  you will bow before me.  ’
‘  i am fucking divine.  ’
‘  i am in control  &  i listen to no one.  ’
‘  i am not a good person.  don’t pretend i am.  ’
‘  i am not accustomed to love.  this is a learning experience.  ’
‘  i am not worth saving  &  i am not worth redemption.  let me stay in the dark.  ’
‘  i am so tired all the time,  all i want to do is rest.  ’
‘  i am too tired to deal with any of this.  ’
‘  i bow to no man.  ’
‘  i broke into sharp pieces when i broke  &  i expect someone else to hurt their hands on my edges just to put me back together.  i’m sorry.  ’
‘  i can give you your wings back  &  i can show you to fly once more,  if you only believe in me.  ’
‘  i cannot be saved.  ’
‘  i can’t ask for help because if i ask for help it hurts people.  i can bear this weight on my own.  i have to.  ’
‘  i could taste the lies in your mouth every time i kissed you,  but i loved you too much to notice.  ’
‘  i crave affection in the simplest way.  ’
‘  i deserve to hurt.  i deserve to bleed.  ’
‘  i didn’t ask for any of this so don’t you dare blame this on me.  ’
‘  i don’t care if you say my name like it’s poison or like it’s a prayer,  as long as it leaves your lips.  ’
‘  i don’t fight for you anymore.  ’
‘  i don’t want to let go of you.  not now,  not ever.  ’
‘  i don’t want to talk about it.  i don’t want to remember.  i don’t want to heal.  all i want is for it to go away.  ’
‘  i don’t want you to touch me.  please don’t touch me,  just go away.  ’
‘  i feel anger deeper than my bones.  i feel anger in my very soul.  ’
‘  i feel nothing at all,  except for when i feel everything all at once.  ’
‘  i have fallen  &  though i may miss the sky,  i belong here now.  ’
‘  i have fallen from a height your mind cannot even imagine.  ’
‘  i have no home anymore.  ’
‘  i remember collapsing in the flames with a sword in my hand  &  then i remember nothing.  ’
‘  i see beauty in everything,  but especially in you.  ’
‘  i should never have fallen in love with you.  ’
‘  i thought for a long time that i was so terrible no one would look at me.  now i know it’s because i shine so bright they are forced to look away.  ’
‘  i was so caught up in the feeling that i forgot how to breathe.  ’
‘  i will never amount to anything.  i am a failure in the worst type of way.  ’
‘  i will tell myself that the burn of my loneliness in my chest completes me  &  maybe someday it will be true.  ’
‘  if that’s what a hero is i’m glad i’m not one anymore.  ’
‘  if you ask me to,  i will set the whole world on fire,  my dear.  it’s all for you.  ’
‘  is it my fault?  it’s my fault.  it’s always my fault.  ’
‘  it’s not murder if they deserved it,  right?  ’
‘  i’m drowning in emotions that don’t belong to me,  choking on anger  &  suffocating on sadness.  ’
‘  i’m in love with everything that hurts me.  ’
‘  i’m okay.  i’m alright.  this is all in my mind.  ’
‘  i’m ready to give up everything i’ve ever had if it means someone will love me.  ’
‘  i’m so cold  &  i can’t stop shaking.  i am not who you think i am.  ’
‘  i’m so tired all the time  &  i just want to be awake again.  ’
‘  i’m tired of fighting against the pain of being forgotten.  i just want someone to remember me.  ’
‘  i’m tired of fighting everything in my life.  just make it stop.  ’
‘  i’m too tired to care.  blow up,  get angry at me.  i’m sure someday i’ll realize i deserved it.  ’
‘  jealousy burns within me.  ’
‘  just let me go in peace for once in my damn life.  ’
‘  loneliness is a disease  &  it leaves me empty  &  hollow,  like sound goes through my body  &  bounces back.  ’
‘  made of starlight  &  sunshine,  i shine brighter than they all know.  ’
‘  my anger is righteous  &  my actions are pure.  ’
‘  my chest aches  &  my lungs burn.  this sickness comes from the inside.  ’
‘  my chest hurts  &  all i need is some comfort  &  understanding.  ’
‘  my chest hurts  &  i ache to go back to the sky.  ’
‘  my shoulders are aching where wings used to be  &  all i want is for them to stop hurting.  ’
‘  pull me apart  &  piece me together in your own way.  make me perfect.  ’
‘  righteous fury throws through my veins  &  if you touch the people i love i will destroy you.  ’
‘  rise up.  you can’t keep being small when you were made for so much more.  ’
‘  say my name like it’s the only one that’s ever been on your tongue.  ’
‘  so much blood has been spilled in my name.  time to make you believe it was in yours.  ’
‘  so you’ll worry about me when i fall silent,  but not when i scream  &  plead for help?  fuck off.  ’
‘  sometimes people have to get hurt for me to get what i want.  ’
‘  stay away from my fucking friends.  stay the fuck away or so help me i will destroy you.  ’
‘  stop treating me like i’m an idiot.  you aren’t better than me in any way  &  you better remember that.  ’
‘  the bitter taste of regret is ever present on my tongue.  ’
‘  the world is spinning far too fast for me to stay on it.  ’
‘  to love them is my divine right.  ’
‘  voices whisper from the shadows  &  they fill my mind with thoughts of you.  ’
‘  what did i to wrong to be so unloved?  ’
‘  what is the point of power if i’m not supposed to use it?  ’
‘  who the fuck do you think you are?  ’
‘  why can’t i ever fucking stop crying?  ’
‘  with a new year comes new tests  &  triumphs.  let’s try to make the most out of it.  ’
‘  would it really kill you to be honest for once?  ’
‘  yes,  i remember my wings breaking  &  being destroyed.  i was powerless to stop it.  ’
‘  you are not required to love your parents,  or to even like them.  ’
‘  you can’t hate me more than i hate myself,  but you are more than welcome to try.  ’
‘  you may say you love me,  but you love only a part of me.  i am too complex for you to ever love my entire being.  ’
‘  you never fucking cared about me.  don’t fucking lie about it.  not to me.  ’
‘  you remind me of mint.  fresh,  sharp,  kind of cold,  but in a nice way.  i always knew there was a reason mint was my favorite.  ’
‘  you shine light in even the darkest parts of me.  you are my sun.  ’
‘  you should fear me,  but you don’t.  i will be eternally puzzled,  yet grateful.  ’
‘  you touch me  &  my skin burns  &  it burns for you,  always you.  ’

Moon of Fire Part iii (Sastiel Sequel)

Massive credits to Marie Rutkoski, who wrote The Winner’s Curse, for part of the inspiration of the ending! We are 3/5 of the way through, and today, you get the Sastiel reunion!

If you haven’t read A Court of Fire and Dreams:
Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV and Part V.

Moon of Fire:
Part i, Part ii, Part iii, Part iv, Part v


Seraphine’s eyes fluttered open.
The trees above her swayed in the wind, the sun already set high in the sky.
She was pleasantly warm, laying on her side wrapped in a thick midnight blue cloak, it’s scent so comforting, so familiar that it almost felt like a dream.
But it wasn’t a dream.
Seraphine was out of the mines, she was safe, she was free.
She twisted, running her fingers between Fen’s thick fur.
Kastiel came back for her. He had saved—
Seraphine sat up at the sound of movement near her.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
The fae in front of her didn’t look familiar. He was tall, crowned with dark hair and dark skin. He seemed a little surprised at her voice, the expression sitting unusually on his beautiful, elegant face.
“I’m Azriel,” he says, dropping a log of wood on top of a stack near his feet. “Kastiel’s uncle.”
Seraphine studied Azriel.
He wore black leathers, with blue jewels adorning different parts of his body. Nothing about him seemed even remotely similar to what Kastiel looked like. Except for the wings. Though Azriel’s was noticeably wider and grander in size.
“Azriel?” she asked slowly, dragging out all the syllables of his name, “And… Kastiel?”
Seraphine was awarded with a breathtaking smile from Azriel, and she sensed, in a way she only could, how rare this smile was.
“I like to say that he was named after me,” he said thoughtfully, arranging the logs on the ground to form a makeshift campfire. “Though Cassian would say otherwise.”
Seraphine stared at the pile of logs, before looking around at her surroundings.
“He’s by the stream,” Azriel points out. “He’s been worried about you, and he’ll be glad you’re awake.”
“Thank you,” she replies.
“Seraphine,” he says before she could leave, “are you alright?”
She meets his hazel eyes. “I’m fine.”
Azriel gives her a small nod in reply, as if he knew, exactly how she was feeling—that she bore no visible scars, but the hurt ran deeper than skin and bones. “Could you please?” he asks, gesturing to the unlit campfire.
Seraphine ignited it with a brush of her hand.

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Oblivion - Miss_Peletier - The 100 (TV) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

“Forgive me,” he whispers, and it’s as much a plea as it is a prayer.

The events of the final hours before Praimfiya and the following five years from Marcus Kane’s perspective, and how they affect his relationship with Abby Griffin.

Preview below, and the rest is at the link above! :D 

It’s almost monotonous, he thinks, in the silent, pulsating pain of it all.

After all, it’s a system they’ve been employing for the past hour, a step-by-step process they devised to make sure every single member of their people gets an equal chance at surviving the death wave. They walk in, show him their name on the slip, he says a few words of affirmation that taste bitter on his lips. They leave. Again and again, they come, show him the paper, and leave.

Some are angered, some are shocked, some, just white-faced and trembling, disbelieving. But all of it ends the same way. He’s left with their lives on sheets of paper, heartbeats etched in names on scraps in a bowl.

It’s almost monotonous, and it damn well could be – if he were a different man, a man who ignores the pain of his people. But as it is now, he sits in his chair next to the bowl with his heart in his throat and his stomach lurching. The pin on his jacket means it’s his duty to save them, but why does it feel like he’s doing the opposite?

He’s meant to protect them, to ensure their survival, and by some twisted path of fate, that’ll mean hundreds of them must perish.

He can hardly look at the bowl itself, the weight of the task at hand pressing harder on his chest each time his eyes fall upon it. So he decides to do something else – to place his gaze elsewhere – somewhere safe, somewhere warm. The only place that can offset the ever-present pain of playing a paradoxical role: the Chancellor and the deliverer of death.

Abby Griffin stands in the corner of the room, both a few feet and an ocean away. She’d decided to be here with him instead of outside the room, accompanied him without a word exchanged. From the dull ache in her eyes, he knew she understood his pain – knew he’d need her here just as much as she needed him. Having her in the room, he thought, might just be the only thing keeping down the lump in his throat.

They don’t talk. And truly, what is there to say? He knows her pain, feels it as keenly as she does, although he reassured her she had no reason to feel it at all. Her choice was the right one, the best decision any of them could have made with the information they had at the time. The moment the hatch opened and Bellamy emerged…thinking back on it sent a low, simmering thrill through him, an instinctive rush at the realization of salvation.

Marcus Kane did not consider himself a selfish man, but the thought of seeing her again, holding her close, hearing her voice…she’d saved him in so many ways, and not just by opening the door.

After David Miller walked in, unfolded his paper, and demonstrated that he intended to sacrifice himself for a chance at Nathan’s survival, he felt her demeanor begin to shift. She’d been distant throughout the process, as he knew she would be. This was not the time for closeness, for them to hold each other and to revel in being together again. But this was something different, a final string cut in the fraying fabric of her composure, and he sensed it as soon as David spoke.

So after he David left, leaving in his wake an agony that couldn’t be dispersed, Marcus did the thing he thought he wouldn’t do: he requested a moment alone with the woman who kept him whole.

“Can we have a moment?” he asks the guards at the door, who respond with a nod and close the door behind them.

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Game of thrones guys react to you, a seemingly happy person, having been abused by your family.

Request — could you do your last preference but with the boys version?

Warnings — parental abuse, could definitely be interpreted as depression, my inbox is always open if you need to talk to someone !!


Robb, when it comes down to it, is not a man. He is just a boy leading a war, and often he must put on a strong facade, not just to his followers and enemies, but to himself too. He understands entirely your need to paint yourself as a happy, cheerful person, though your back bears the scars like a canvas bears spilt paint. He traced the jagged lines when you lay together, feeling how your entire body shudders each time his fingers ghost over a scar.


Poor, oblivious Jon, unobservant of small details, would pretty much have to be told straight-up. You confessed to him one night, huddled in one of his fur cloaks, curled beside the hearth with your third cup of wine nestled in your hands. You told him as you drank, and your tears fell into the wine. He would walk over to you and kneel down before you, taking one of your hands in his.
“I won’t ever let them hurt you again. I promise.”


If there was anybody who could understand you, it was Sandor Clegane. He bore almost identical scars to you on the side of his face, but unlike you, they had made him bitter and dark. It was oddly painful for him to see you, bearing your scars with a smile and kind word. You always did have a kind word for him. He always assumed you had some ulterior motive, because nobody ever told him “good day to you, ser,” and meant it. However, when told about your abuse, he understood entirely and looked at you in a new, admiring light.


Gendry would just be sad. Upon finding out, he would treat you with a delicacy, as if your skin were glass that would shatter upon impact. This went on, him never letting you lift or drag or do any sort of heavy labour, until you reprimanded him. 
“Gendry.” You swatted his hands away and hefted the pile of logs. “It’s just firewood. I can assure you, I won’t crumble on the way to the bonfire.”
Gendry dropped his eyes. “I’m just worried about you, is all.”

Sympathy like nothing he’d ever known drove through him like a pike. He took both your hands in his and looked earnestly at you, eyes gazing deeper than just flesh and bone and muscle, far deeper.
“You are safe here, my lady,” he whispered, and kissed the tears on your cheeks. He would be sure to treat you especially gently so as not to upset you.

Jaime would listen as you told him raptly, never once interrupting, with an almost stoic expression. But when your voice cracked and your tears begun to spill, he caught your wrist and pulled you to him, allowing you to hide your tears in his shoulder. You two swayed gently in silence for several minutes as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.
“They will never hurt you here,” he murmured. “And if I ever seen them, I will bring you their heads as a nameday gift.”

Willas grew up with a doting family even after his injury, and he, as a cripple would most definitely empathise with you. As clever as he was, he most likely worked out you had experienced some abuse just by observation, and prompted you about it gently. You told him with a faltering voice and tears threatening to spill. He held your hand as you talked and, when you could talk no more, he cupped your face in his hands, gaze driving deeply into your own.
“You are my lady, and the strongest woman I know,” he said earnestly. “If the gods were good, I would have held myself as you do when I crippled my leg.”

On one of the many nights you thought you would freeze to death out in this cold, snowy wilderness beyond the Wall, you told Bran your story over the smoke of a campfire. He told you of Winterfell first, of his brothers and sisters, sparring in the yard and horseriding. He spoke of his mother and father last, with a tenderness reserved only for parents, and when he noticed your tears, he was taken aback.
When questioned, you told him of the abuse you experienced at the hands of your parents. It would be another cruel wake-up call for Bran, learning not all parents were lovely as his. He squeezed your hand tightly in his, and let you fall asleep with your head on his shoulder.

And it wasn’t till then that I learnt the nature of love. The wild, unchanged and unchanging. That love was the one pure creature. That love, despite suffering, despite seperation, despite circumstance, is and always will be itself, an animal that lives deeper than our bones. That knows it’s own scent in its kin. That is always wanting to go home.


anonymous asked:

Whats the bone hurting juice meme? Idgi

( I do not know what Idgi, never mind i just figured it out myself)

Ok. I do not know where the bone hurting juice meme started but the first time i had seen it was this image:

[link of image below]

I do not know it’s true origins, but for now, it’s not really deeper than the bone hurting juice will hurt your bones if you drink it. I think the joke of it is the absurdity of the juice’s powers and that people get fooled/willing drink the bone hurting juice.

[TRANS] Hwarang: The Beginning - Hansung’s Introduction

Hansung - Kim Taehyung

The youngest Hwarang in Hwarangdo. He who carries a bright face that shines like an angel, pursues harmonious relationships anywhere he goes with his warm and friendly personality. However, he is four-dimensional and full of curiosity, once he is immersed in something, he will concentrate to the point of not seeing anything, not hearing any sound. As the Hwarangdo slowly becomes the leader of the Silla kingdom’s future, the responsibility that this tender-hearted boy has to carry, heavier and more painful than anything, is erased too. 

Seonwoo, whom Hansung met after becoming a Hwarang, is different from anyone else he has met. He is someone who, even when being despised for being a lower class, still willingly puts on shoes for them. Who acted nonchalant yet still embraced the tender-hearted Hansung’s deep stories. Unknowingly, his favor toward Seonwoo grows deeper than the bones. Hansung comes to depend on Seonwoo like his real brother. Hansung who was once trapped in the war of the adults without his own judgement, for the first time, has a dream and is now standing on his own.


gen; stan twins centric, language, amnesia stuff, hurt/comfort

summary; This isn’t Columbia, yeah, that’s what Andrew thinks as the world flips upside down.

stan gets a little mixed up with his old identities when his mind is fixing itself. ford tries to help.


notes; sorry, i was going to make sure star’s next chapter was out before doing anything else but this is more important

for @cakepann, because shit really sucks sometimes for no reason and i hope this helps a little

This isn’t Columbia, yeah, that’s what Andrew thinks as the world flips upside down.

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The soil buried my heart deeper than where my bones lie undisturbed.

I dig with my own hands, slow from the start—

I stop where the roots emerge from the cold and moist crumble of land.

I could no longer find what I had left beneath; did you keep it?

I heard the deadened sound of a breaking glass—

was that my heart?

                            — Can you crush what was empty?, Valerie T.


1. i think of your blood that flows through vines in a bed of thornlike honesty, and i wish that the truth was yours to keep. i want you with your golden skin to wrap around the bullets inside of me. i want you with your tainted lips to tell me that this broken glass is fallen sugar on a map of stars. i want—

2. (you) and i dance in the dark to songs of the living and lie when we talk to growing old. i kiss the length of your lungs and it seems that every time we breathe in we are made from pale dust and dirt and i am always left crawling at your feet.

3. are we cursed if we speak of magic? the calling of our ancestors seems to run deeper through my bones than yours because i am selfish and i am selfish and i am selfish and i wish i could burn at the campsite of youth, with this firewood i kept from that night at the forest when you told me of love and you lied.

4. the lake rises with every bruise that i count and i can’t help but want to replace your arms with the pull of suffocation because at least sirens speak of killing when all you are is choking and crushing and loving in a foreign language that i will never understand.

5. i dream about the girl i used to love with her fists and her knuckles and her thighs on my palms and every morning is the quiet realization where i find you instead: DIGGING THROUGH MY SKELETON TO LAY YOUR BODY IN ITS COFFIN.
—  we burn ourselves at the stake & scream our names into the night // k.s.l.(davidfihncer)
Skin Deep

Requested: The reader has a really nice body (hourglass figure with curves “you know, Beyoncé”) but she doesn’t like the way she looks. Reid tries to tell her that he loves who she is and not what she looks like.

He can’t help but glance her way every now and then. Watching, a little forlornly, as she runs around the office. She has a smile for everybody, and people tend to gravitate towards her. Magnetic. That’s what she is. For months she has been his friend and his colleague, but at some point that stopped feeling like enough. Not that he doesn’t enjoy being her friend. He just finds himself wishing they could be something more, as futile as those feelings are.

And he’s apparently not being very subtle about it. “Yo, Reid. A picture would last longer.”

Morgan’s voice jolts him back out of his own head. “What?” he asks.

“You’ve been starting at Y/L/N all day, man. You know, you could just tell her how you feel.”

Color creeps into his cheeks, and he stares down at the paperwork on his desk. The possibility has occurred to him before, he just can’t see it ending well for him.

“Because there’s no way I’d measure up to all those other guys.” Who she is has always been what attracted him to her, but he can’t deny the obvious – Y/N is beautiful. And he’s not the only one to notice. It happens when she joins him for a coffee run, or when they go with friends to a movie. Out in the field, in the office. Men are always flirting with her. Why would someone like her ever choose someone like him?

Derek shakes his head. “Have you tried just complimenting her? Tell her she looks nice. Get her to see you in a different light. It’s not that hard kid, I mean, she could rival Beyoncé with that body.”

It’s not hard to see she’s pretty, but complimenting her about it? It’s not easy, not for him. Once he crosses that line, there’s no going back. By saying something, he’s making his affections known, and he’s so terrified of being rejected by her. He can’t lose her friendship. She means too much to him for that. 

He lets his gaze wander over her, following the soft curves of her body, imagining what it would be like to be able to touch her in a manner that’s more than friendly; picturing it in the back of his mind like he has a thousand times before. She moves with a fluid grace, and he never tires of watching her.

One of the agents from Counter-Terrorism is chatting with her at the moment, looking her over with a charming smirk. She laughs at his jokes, but not quite the way she laughs at Reid’s. What does that mean? What is the disparity between them? He’s not sure whether it’s cause to be disappointed or encouraged.

That’s the thing about magnets – they attract everything around them.

Morgan says, “If you don’t do it, you’re gonna miss your chance. Someone else is gonna snatch her up. What are you waiting for?”

What is he waiting for? For the sort of confidence that Hotch and Rossi carry. For the sort of witty banter that Morgan has mastered. For a sure sign that she won’t reject the advances of someone like him. But can he sit by and watch her fall for someone else?

Agent Anderson winks at her, and she winks back, and he knows in that instant that no, no he can’t.

“Go,” says Morgan. “Tell her she looks pretty.”

Summoning every ounce of courage he can lay claim to, he follows her to the kitchenette, where she pours a cup of coffee. When she turns around to see him, she’ looks surprised to see him, but flashes him a smile.

“Y-you look beautiful today,” he stammers.

“Thanks, Spencer.”

“N-not that you don’t look beautiful every day! Because y-you do. I mean, scientifically speaking, attraction is a combination of biological and psychological factors, and wide hips are an indicator of fertility and the strength to give birth, which is why an hourglass figure has typically been thought of as the conventionally attractive body type – which you have– and I just thought it was worth mentioning that you looked nice since such compliments have been suggested to boost self-esteem as well as to convey interest in a rom-”

“Please stop.” Her voice carries an unfamiliar edge and he’s taken aback by the way her smile has vanished. Is that his fault? Has he said the wrong thing?

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line,” he says quietly. Is it because he said it? He has no right to talk to her like that, someone who is so clearly out of his league. There’s no way they could be any more than friends, not when she looks like that, and he looks like… well, like him.

“You know you’re one of the only guys here who doesn’t comment on my appearance?” she asks. He’s aware. Because any time he’s considered doing so, he gets too flustered to actually speak the words out loud. “No matter where I go, I get attention from men because of my body. I hate it. I don’t need strangers to tell me they think I’m pretty. It doesn’t make me feel confident or beautiful. Not at all.”

Reid doesn’t know what to say so he stands there, hands in his pockets, wishing he could take back his words. He doesn’t want to make her, his friend, feel uncomfortable. That’s not what friends do. Never did he stop to consider the possibility that those compliments made her feel uncomfortable.

Y/N sighs and mutters, “I don’t even like the way I look. I’m not thin like JJ or Agent Sharp. Every comment just reminds me of everything I’m insecure about.” She glances at him and adds, “You never mentioned my appearance. I liked that.”

It sounds like an accusation.

Mentally he curses Morgan and his advice. What set him apart was his attention to who she is, and not to what she looks like. He knows that there’s nothing he can say to make any of her insecurities go away, but he’s willing to try anything to make her feel just a little more comfortable.

She’s magnetic – but perhaps magnets have no idea the sort of power they possess.

“I never thought I had the right to say anything,” he blurts out. “I was afraid to say anything that could be interpreted as romantic interest because there was no chance someone like you would be interested in someone like me. After all, you’re my friend, and you look… you look like Beyoncé! I mean, you’re incredible and funny and sweet – and yes, physically attractive, but that’s not important. What’s important is that you’re kind to everyone, and you laugh at my jokes even when they’re not very good, and you stand up for people who need help. You don’t share the same body type as JJ, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re the most beautiful girl I know. And you have the most beautiful heart, too.”

It comes out in a rush of rambling, but he means every word. It certainly doesn’t hurt that she’s pretty, but that wasn’t what caught his eye first. He fell in love with her heart. While he allows himself to steal looks at her throughout the day, he finds she’s in his mind much more often. He replays the sound of her voice and the way she laughs, pictures her smile and the way the corners of her eyes crinkle when she does so. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed that she has a well-defined waist, or a nice butt, however that was only natural. Biology and hormones. What he feels for her, it goes so much deeper than skin and bone.

That’s what this is about?” The frustration on her face shifts to surprise. “You’re trying to hint at romantic interest?”

His face is almost certainly the color of a cherry tomato, but he’s definitely gone beyond whatever line he was trying to avoid. The only way out is through.

“If I said yes, would that be detrimental to our friendship?”

She laughs, and it puts him on guard. Historically speaking, girls laughing in the face of his romantic advances hasn’t been good for him. But then she says, “I don’t think so. I’ve been hoping you would ask me out at some point. I just figured I wasn’t your type.”

She thought that he wouldn’t want her? The notion is so absurd he can’t help but chuckle himself. They’ve both been dancing around their own emotions all this time, so sure that the other could never reciprocate.

“If I were to ask, you’d say yes?” Reid tries to remain calm, but the question carries undeniable enthusiasm.

“Absolutely.” Four syllables have never sounded so perfect.

“In that case, maybe we could go out to lunch together? It’s possible that if you’re on a date, it could help deflect undesired attention. Though, uh, I’d be happy to make up for that with desired attention, if you’d like.”

“I’m not entirely sure what that offer means, but yes. I would love that.”

Her acceptance feels surreal, and he’s tempted to pinch himself just to make sure this isn’t some dream, or a very elaborate practical joke Morgan has set up. Because the most beautiful girl in the room – in any room, in his opinion – has agreed to go out on a date with him. The same girl who can quote all the Star Wars movies and willingly sits through Doctor Who marathons with him. Who never makes fun of him, even when he screws up. 

“It just means,” he says, “that I think you’re lovely. In every possible way. And I’m going to remind of that as long as it takes for you to see it too.”

Her smile is so bright it could melt him. She is magnetic, and he’s been pulled so far into her orbit that he doesn’t think he’ll ever shake this feeling. “Then I suppose lunch is a good place to start.”

“Y/N? I just have one more question.”


“Who’s Beyoncé?”


   When I dreamt of Alaska as a child, the visions in my head were murky, albeit awing scenes of white blankets covering the land and mountain tops hiding their peaks within low-lying clouds. I could see it all in my head, but it was a memory constructed out of someone else’s written words. I was merely borrowing the experience; it was never truly mine.
   Seeing all of those childhood dreams with my own eyes, feeling it all with my own being - climbing to the top of one of those peaks, stepping into one of those snowy blankets on a trail, breathing in so deeply the evergreen will forever remain in my lungs - has conjured an indescribable force in me, deeper than my bone and tissue, deeper than the cells carrying me through each day.
    No, the borrowing life is not for me.

13 soul-shattering Third Eye Blind lyrics

1. “Be a dream in color even on a winter’s night/Thinking Georges Seurat, afternoon bathed in light/Get your joy no matter who says it’s right/Their cover’s blown, find the story of your own” (Camouflage)

- At one point in an interview, Stephan Jenkins was quoted admitting that he actually doesn’t know what all the screaming lyrics in “Camouflage” are, which is pretty funny. But this one discernable lyric is like a constellation. It fits together so perfect and the words are so bright. If you need proof of the poets here, check this song out. Even if you can’t tell what the hell they’re saying. I love this song. Get more 90s or get more modern day Jim Morrison- you can’t.

2. “You want to know how deeply my soul goes/ Deeper than bones, deeper than bones” (I Want You)

– This ethereal ode to wanting someone feels like it was written in another dimension. Haunting, a little spooky, it is nothing short of a snake-charming song. It’s so strange that it actually reminds me of the Doors. It’s the perfect example of Stephan Jenkins’ ability to say so many things that you, the listener, don’t understand, but somehow they connect to create a meaning that you have created for yourself. It’s at once an ode to mortality and an echoing proclamation of desire. “Send me all your vampires…”

3. “And I’m hanging on your words / Like I always used to do / The words they use so lightly/ I only feel for you /I only know because I carry you around /In the background” (The Background)

- I challenge you to find a more heartbreaking or deeply resonating song. It’s those weird, very specific place and memory references that Stephan Jenkins drops that let you know that you have both no idea what he’s talking about and a very close understanding of what he’s talking about. Jenkins’ lyrics become your own because you are forced to create your own meaning for Haight Street (in San Francisco, the band’s hometown) and by doing so, his lyrics become your own. Who hasn’t carried someone around ‘in the background’? Jenkins just finds a way to say it that is both specific and soul-shattering.

4. “I’ve never been so alone/And I’ve never been so alive” (Motorcycle Drive-By)

- Are there things you’d like to do that the people you’re with don’t believe in? This song, these lyrics are the essence of estrangement from those you wish understood you and backed you up. Jenkins writes frequently about motorcycles, which is fitting because they’re a one person ride, usually. This song is so much about setting off on your own, but realizing that you are at the helm; that some people we wish were with us will never see the great things we will one day build.

5. “How’s it going to be/When you found out there was nothing/Between you and me/Cause I don’t care/ How’s it going to be?” (How’s it Going to Be)

- Is there a better “fuck you” song in the universe without explicitly saying so? This one hits the bitter nail on the head so eloquently, with such heartbreak, who hasn’t felt the way Jenkins screams about in the middle of this song? It’s that awful crossroads of not caring at the end of a relationship and wanting to make the other person think about how it’s the end. It’s such a bittersweet classic. “Where we used to laugh there’s a shouting match/ Sharp as a thumbnail scratch”- Jenkins’ lyrics are understated and packed full of sounds and feelings that we know in our guts.

6. “Time it passes and it tells us what we’re left with/We become the things we do/Me, I’m a fool spent from defiance yeah you got me but, I didn’t give up on you” (Blinded)

- I’ll be damned if everyone doesn’t have a person that this applies to. Someone that you’ve let go of but not really, or even a time or a place in your life that you still hang on to. Is it romanticized? Of course. Does it feel new and fresh and spur the soul on to optimism? I think so. I think “Blinded” is one of Jenkins’ best examples of robust, colorful, beautiful lyrical poetry. I cannot listen to this song and not feel the sun.

7. “If I could bottle my hopes in a store bought scent/They’d be nutmeg peach and they’d pay the rent” (An Ode to Maybe)

- One of my favorites ever. I actually got to meet Stephan Jenkins and I asked him what this, my unexplainable favorite lyric, means. He explained that it just seemed like what he thought his ambitions would be at the time. He had been couch surfing after college, and it really was just that; nonsensical. It made so much sense to me though and it still does. Wouldn’t all of our hopes have some sort of potency and pay our bills, freeing us?

8. “Everyone’s got to face down their demons/Maybe today you could put the past away” (Jumper)

- I’d actually just say the entirety of “Jumper” is a soul-changing lyric. For those moments when staring into the blackness feels exhilaratingly cathartic, “Jumper” is a timeless anthem. It’s sick with truth and hurt. It reverberates pain, but somehow hope, too, as Jenkins and Tony Fredianelli scream in the background.

9. “I believe in the sand beneath my toes/The beach gives a feeling, an earthy feeling, I believe in the faith that grows/And the four right chords can make me cry/When I’m with you I feel like I could die and that would be alright, alright” (Semi-Charmed Life)

- I first heard this song in 6th grade and it changed my life. I knew damn well that I didn’t know what he was talking about (crystal meth?) but the freedom of this song woke up my soul. Doesn’t everyone want something else? When I listen to this song, I can feel the heat of the summer sun beating through the verses and reminding me to stay young and feisty. It’s a rebel yell, a refusal to lay down.

10. “The stars they shine in an empty void/Life is not to fear, life is to enjoy” (Burning Man)

- I cannot count the number of times I’ve been mid-panic attack or in a terrifying moment and these words have come to me. Life is not to fear, life is to enjoy. Don’t be afraid because it doesn’t solve anything. Enjoy your life. Live like a fire has been lit under your ass. Be the burning man.

11. “How do you do it/Now I’m overwhelmed by a violet sky/And we fly/In a decayed orbit/sixty six thousand miles an hour/Goes by, when we kissed and only now do I feel your mouth, like an ache, you never knew/And it was right in front of you” (Good Man)

- This song is the weirdest recounting of an aching relationship, but his bizarre description choices are so beautiful. The mysteries of his references are part of the echoing questions about what was missing, what stops any of us from being a “good man.” This song breaks my heart.

12. “These secret garden beams/Changed my life so it seems/A warm breeze blows outside/ I don’t break stride/ Thoughts are warm, and they go deep inside of you/ And I never felt alone, til I met you” (Deep Inside of You)

- When someone becomes all of your being, the love and loss of that love is everything. It cleans you out, like the hollowing of a gourd. This song is so raw, so exhausting in its description of love and loss.

13. “And that girl is like a sunburn I would like to save/ She’s like a sunburn” (Never Let You Go)

- If you know anything about sun damage, you know that technically, you do save every sunburn you get. The freshness of the pain, that red skin, the peeling, that sensation comes and goes, but sunburns add up to your cumulative sun damage. Jenkins writes in these ins and outs, leaving you knowing exactly how that feels. Save the pain, get the sun spots, and maybe the pain is lurking for a later day. Jenkins brings the sun to each song, making you feel the heat of your last sunburn.

So you’re all alone.
Maybe you’ve always been,
but today you’ve decided to
write a poem about it.

Where did you want to start?
Nowhere? I guess that’s the point.

So you’re all alone.
You’re all alone and the room isn’t
You’re all alone and there’s no sea of people.
You’re all alone because you’re all
Make it a bar, or your bedroom,
or your car pulled over on the highway.
You’re all alone and you can feel it
deeper than your bones,
like there’s a sun inside you and it’s
You’re all alone and you aren’t burning.
You’re all alone but, oddly enough,
you’re okay.
Why are you okay?

God, why the fuck are you okay?
Do you even need anything?
Are you even human?
Are you even real?
Hurt a goddamn little!
Bleed! Fuck!

What do you need? What do
you need to do? How can I pull this
out of you?

I’ve seen lonely, but that’s not what
this is. This is surrender. This is you
tying yourself to a sinking ship and
it’s breaking my heart, really.

I hope you fall in love and I hope it
kicks your ass, the first time.
I hope you fall in love again and I
hope it feels like swimming in molasses.
I hope you never get the sweet out
from underneath your fingernails.
I hope you open up like a sky.
—  Caitlyn Siehl, So You’re All Alone

An ungodly heat clings to mayor’s skin; no, deeper than that, this is bone deep, cooking him from the inside out. A hand moved to loosen the tie around his neck, an action he had done too many times to count in the last few hours. Yes, the Monte d’Or desert proved to be a scorching environment but never so much that his typical clothing proved to be a nuisance, and especially so indoors. A beat of sweat rolled down a pale forehead; irritation lead to it quickly being wiped away with a handkerchief. His body was currently in an all out war with itself; his intestines were frying, his head was pounding and if he dared stand on two feet it would swim and cause him to fall right back to his previous position; oh there were so many symptoms plaguing the mayor and one thing was for sure;

Henry Ledore was sick.

It was a common occurrence; Henry had never proved to have the best immune system, but surely it had never been as bad as this very moment. Carnival season was always a hassle, but it was one that paid off in the end. Carnival season after the reign of terror brought on by the Masked Gentleman, however, was even more harrowing. There was much more to be done in order to make up for the prior years events; vendors wanted to set up shops, parade floats needed to be made, streets cleared, hotels maintained, and all while Henry was finishing up all of the damages caused by their lost friend. 

In the end he ended up burning himself out, and then continued to work. It was no surprise he found himself coming down with a nasty bug; exhaustion was nothing to be taken lightly. Unfortunately, Henry didn’t take the hint.

When the male pushed himself from his desk he was met with an ensemble of horrid things; his stomach lurched, his head spun, and he found two hands gripping the back of his chair for fear he would simply collapse. For a brief moment he heard nothing but the sound of his own heart beat pounding in his ears. After the spell passed (even if his head was still rhythmically pounding), he made sure he composed himself, packed away his files, and left the room.

Yes, Henry was certainly sick, but he still had work to be done. Ill or not, Monte d’Or always took precedence in his life.

A lot of us grew up deep in the closet with no one to reach out to. Feeling the slurs our ‘friends’ threw at each other jokingly as sharp knives cutting deeper than bone. I grew up with no friends whatsoever. If I think back to the days before college all I had was 'classmates’. I never had many friends visiting my house. I never had a sleepover. I never had any of that because I was afraid.

I knew I was gay. I knew a lot of people had a problem with that. I knew what could and would happen if I came out. Or if I got discovered, or if I let any tiny part of the real me shine.

So I surrounded myself with books and made friends with people on the outside. I hid this growing world inside my mind. No one knew me beyond the surface because I was afraid.

Looking back I don’t really regret any of the things that happened. And I feel very happy about my childhood because it made me who I am.

But I know something. I would have loved so much to have a friend who was LGBTQIAP+. That would have meant the world to me. It would have made me feel safe, and less alone in this world. It would have helped me so much.

That’s why Cecil and Earls’ relationship in a way means a lot to me. It reminds me, the kid me who still lives inside me, that I am not alone.

And the fact that Wil Wheaton considers that the people who are criticizing the fact that he is erasing this relationship and a character who was read as queer (and doing so just a few days after National Coming Out Day) is: “freaking out about something because of a presumption you’ve made is really important to you, knock yourselves out”, shows exactly why a lot of people have problems with this casting choice.

Wil Wheaton has not empathy for LGBTQIAP+ people. That’s all I am saying.

Six Years: A Red Velvet Pancakes Fic

[[Well, I saw the prompts for the RVP month while scrolling on kirono’s blog, you know the one four months ago, and I thought of the basic plot of this when I saw the age gap one. So…yea. Hope you all enjoy and DFTBA!]]

Six years. Those two words rule his life more than any other, the answer to the constant question they ask when he tells them. Six years. They say, that’s not a lot, not really. Not at their age. But Matt knows better. Matt knows how long six years really is. Seventy-two months. Two-thousand one hundred and ninety days. Twenty six thousand two hundred and eighty hours between the day he left the womb and the day Matthew did. Exactly.

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