fades into oblivion

anonymous asked:

Call me terrible, but aces who like and seek out sex make me, a sex repulsed ace, feel invalid. They are almost no different from anyone else, yet they ace like they're so ace. How can their asexuality be so important if it hides under how they're "normal"? Why are we so protective of these aces when they're at best almost allos(I don't mean to insult allos in any way), or at worst exclusionists? It just appalls me how we act like they're hated when really, they're treated so normally.

I really debated just deleting this and blocking the sender because it is so utterly antithetical to everything this blog stands for, but I think it needs to be addressed, because attitudes like this are a warning sign to me that history may be poised to repeat itself, and that will happen over my dead body.

I’ve been around a long time. Like, before tumblr, before AVEN, before aces had anything like the community we have today, before we even had a consistent word for ourselves. That means I remember some of the early politics that Kids These Days weren’t around for, have no way of really knowing–including the downright ugly fights that dominated the mailing list days about how to define asexuality. There was a contingent of people, you see, that held that the only way to be Truly Asexual was to completely lack any sort of libido, and to abstain from sex entirely. These people were. Not nice people. They were the exclusionists of their time, and I mean that very seriously. Nearly every hateful, cruel, and self-spiting tactic you see in REGs on tumblr today was also levied by nonlibidoists and antisexuals at the time. They were absolutely vicious toward not only anybody within ace circles who wanted a broader definition of asexuality [the one we use today, eventually] but also toward non-aces or anyone who wasn’t celibate by choice, which resulted, among other things, in exactly the sort of homophobia and sex shaming that REGs accuse us of to this day.

We, as a community, fought tooth and nail against defining ourselves in this way, and against both the ugly infighting it produced and the abhorrent behaviour it encouraged. We have been fighting tooth and nail ever since to move past that stain on our history, to define ourselves in a way that is safe and welcoming to all aces, and to ensure that we conduct ourselves in a way that aligns with the ethics of the communities we ally ourselves with, and to what we have decided is the ethical core of our own community. It sickens me to the core to be hearing views like this espoused again from inside our community. I will not stand for it. We will not stand for it. We didn’t then, and we won’t now. 

There is no right way to be asexual. There is no wrong way to be asexual. There is nothing at all wrong with aces who have, want, or seek out sex. There is nothing wrong with aces who are so repulsed by sex that they can’t even think about it. There is nothing wrong with aces who have no feelings about sex whatsoever. There is nothing wrong with aces who never have or will feel attraction. There is nothing wrong with aces who do occasionally feel attraction but still feel that ace identities best represent their experiences or that the ace community best addresses their needs. Asexuality is not behaviour. Asexuality cannot be hidden under behaviour, or opted out of through behaviour, and if some people feel like they need to try to do that, that is a reflection of an aphobic society pressuring people into closeting or otherwise denying themselves in an attempt to escape that oppression, not proof that they’re “normal” [also, feel free to never juxtapose “ace” and “normal” again, that’s gross].

And, finally, this frankly drips of exactly the kind of sex-shaming we’re so often accused of, no matter how hard you try to hide it behind “no insult to allos.” It’s gross. Don’t do it. 

This is one of the most unsavoury asks I have seen in my time on this blog. Everything about this sentiment is unwelcome on this blog; keep it out of our inbox and keep it out of our community. Our gates are open. Our arms are open. Every ace is welcome, every ace is valid, every ace experience is a genuine ace experience, one worthy of consideration, protection, and acknowledgement. We have worked hard to build this community into what it is today. The gatekeepers of the past removed themselves from the rest of us and faded into oblivion and that is where I want their sentiments to stay.

I’m not going to call you terrible, because I stand for a community where every ace is welcome and finds the resources they need to navigate their life and identity. But that cannot, will not, come at the expense of others.


Mike was never a big fan of Valentine’s day. To be quite fair, it may have been his least favorite day of the whole year. It was just a dumb day where his sister would rush off to school to be all grossly romantic with her boyfriend and his parents would be out all night on a romantic dinner that left Nancy to babysit both of the younger kids (her form of babysitting consisted of strict homework time, vegetables for dinner, and early bedtime. What fun) and kids at school teased him with insulting fake Valentine’s cards. The upside, if any, was the cheap drugstore chocolate that went on sale the next day, which he raided with his friends as they pooled their allowances together. With Eleven around, naturally, she had a lot of questions, most of which her best friends answered with enthusiasm and great detail. When she asked the dreaded Valentine’s Day question, Mike Wheeler felt his cheeks burning up before his friends could even open their big mouths in laughter or light teasing. To get out of the question unscathed, he quickly threw together an explanation with hearty emphasis on its stupidity and cheesiness, though quite aware of El’s dissatisfied expression. She didn’t press the matter, to his surprise, and they all went on with their month, dreading the lovey-doviness at school on that stupid holiday. As the day rolled around and the four boys locked their bikes onto the rack, Eleven pulled up quickly afterward—little pink bows and heart hairbands that Hopper had affixed into her curls and a wrinkled paper bag in the basket of her bike. She fished through the bag and proudly handed each of her best friends the specially personalized cards she made (construction paper hearts practically dripping in glitter and lace with carefully penned cheesy poetry and sentiments) along with full sized candy bars. Rolling their eyes playfully at the dorkiness, Lucas, Dustin, and Will hugged and high-fived and fist-pumped her in thanks as they ran off to class. For some odd reason, though, Mike noticed her utterly puzzled expression as she looked for his…. “Hey, El, it’s really no problem if you forgot mine. I’m just..uh…happy to spend the day with you. We can go the arcade or something after school,” he said easily, not really paying attention to the eery smirk appearing on her face. Eleven quickly kissed his cheek, shoved a Valentine into his hands, and chased after the boys before she was late to science class. Mike Wheeler was certain in that moment that his entire brain function shut down, as he could barely focus on the heart-shaped card long enough to read the flowy script on the front— “Roses are red, Violets are blue, Eggos are very sweet, But not as sweet as you”

Family (Jon Snow x Reader)

Anonymous said:

Can you do a jon snow imagine where him a reader have sex before he leaves for the wall and she finds out she’s pregnant and never tells him until they reunite after the battle of the bastards! Thank you xx

A/N: My first actual imagine with Jon. If you’ve read my Robb imagines, then you should know I am fairly new with writing for the males of the show. I’ve done a bit of writing with Jon, but none where he was in this situation, so if Jon is a little out of character then you know why. This would have been posted sooner, but I accidentally deleted the one I originally wrote, and I was too pissed to finish it until now. 

 (S/N) = Son’s Name

Warning(s): I think this one’s pretty obvious, but sex mention. Also includes some arguing.

Originally posted by kitsn0w

You grew up with the Stark children, and because of it, you had seen each and every one of them at their best, and at their worst. You were there when everything happened to them. Absolutely every name day, every phase, every heartbreak.

You and Jon were close in particular. You’d always go out of your way to be kind to the bastard boy, and you always spent as much time as you could with him. There was always a sort of tension between you, something so taught and palpable it felt as if at any moment, everything would shatter.

One day, it did.

It was early in the morning, just past dawn, when you awoke to see him standing at the foot of your bed in your chambers. You sat up quickly, your eyes adjusting in the darkness to see the outline of his silhouette, his dark curly sticking up wildly. You rubbed your sleep-filled, blurred eyes and squinted at him in the darkness.

“Jon? What are you doing here?” You asked wearily. Your voice was barely above a whisper, and in the darkness of the room, it seemed to fade into oblivion. You reached to the table by your bed, reaching for a candle to light the room.

However, as your fingers reached it, Jon was suddenly there. He gripped your hand, and you could barely see him shake his head in the darkness. He sat beside you on the bed.

“(Y/N), there’s something I have to tell you.” He said. You could hear something in his voice, but you couldn’t quite place what. The tone of his voice, whatever it was, was serious, and for that very reason, he had your attention.

Sitting up straight, you took his hand in yours, as if that would reassure him.

”What is it?”

Jon cleared his throat. “I am…” He shook his head, as if he tried to shake away a thought. You squeezed his hand. “You know I’m not good at this, (Y/N). Confessing, that’s something Robb is good at. I’m… not.”

“Confessing?” You questioned. Confessing what?

You were closer to Jon now, so close your thigh was brushing against his. You could see his face in the darkness, and you could see him nervously lick his lips.

“I love you.”

Those three words felt lighter than any light out there. You felt them within you, and for once, you knew that they were true. You loved Jon, too. Perhaps you had known, and perhaps you hadn’t, but in that moment, you realized it. You opened your mouth to speak, to tell him, but all that left was empty air.

You couldn’t speak.

Instead, you cupped his cheek, and moved in to kiss him. Your lips missed at first, connecting with the side of his mouth. He chuckled lightly at that, but pulled you to him. Your lips finally met. The kiss was intense, and it held everything you couldn’t say. You nibbled at his bottom lip as you fell back on the bed, pulling Jon onto you. The next moments were a blur, and before you knew it, your clothes were abandoned.

Some time later, the two of you lay in bed together. Jon had his arms wrapped around you tightly, kissing your bare shoulder. You both had goofy grins while you lay there, simply enjoying each other’s presence.

Jon had been your first, as you were his. You didn’t regret a thing. That is, until Jon became serious. He sat up in bed, facing you with a stern expression, brows furrowed with thought. You held your blanket up to your chest while you sat up. The adoration that once filled the air between you was now filled with tension.

“Is everything alright?” You asked. For a moment, you worried he regretted sleeping with you. “Was it bad?”

He was silent, and you looked down, your hair covering your face. You couldn’t see his eyes widen.

“No! No, that’s not it. Look at me,” Jon tilted your head up to him before he softly kissed you. He pressed his forehead to yours, his hand caressing your cheek. You don’t know how long the two of you remained like that, but at some point, he released you. Jon was now looking away from you.

“I’m leaving today.” He said.

This time, these weren’t the words you wanted to hear. Your eyes widened. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to join the Night’s Watch.” He still wouldn’t look at you, and you couldn’t decide what angered you more; the fact he couldn’t even look at you, or the fact that he slept with you without telling you he wasn’t sticking around long after.

“Why,” you said through clenched teeth. “Didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I was going to, (Y/N), I swear it. I just couldn’t-”

“Get out of my bed.”

Your blankets were bunched up in your hands now, and you were seething. You were now the one who wouldn’t look at him. It took all you had not to slap him.

“(Y/N), wait, please let me explain-”

“Get out! Go!” You shouted, shoving him this time. He fell out of the bed. However, being Jon, he didn’t just leave. He stood and faced you.

“Let me explain, (Y/N). I’m not leaving until-”

Again, you interrupted him. You stood up, sliding on your clothes. You bunched up his pants then threw them at him. They hit his face and fell before he retrieved them. Tears were sliding down your cheeks, and you were shaking with anger. It was all too much for you. You couldn’t deal with this, not now.

Now half dressed, Jon approached you, reaching his arms out to embrace you. You were far too furious for that, so you slapped them away. He came closer this time.

“Go away, Jon! I don’t want to see you! Get out of here!” You shoved him again, your silent tears beginning to turn into sobs. The sadness in his eyes hurt you, but it was nothing compared to the pain you felt inside. You hated him for lying, for making you fall in love with him, only for him to leave you.

His arms successfully wrapped around you this time, and no matter how much you slapped and shoved at his chest, you eventually succumbed.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.” He continually whispered this to you, but no matter how much he said it, you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him. Your cries began to fade, until eventually you were left staring off into space, drowning out his voice.

Once you were calm enough to speak, you threw his arms off you and stood. You walked to a window and looked outside, anywhere but at him, your arms crossed over your chest. You could feel that he was looking at you.

“When do you leave?” You asked hoarsely.

“As soon as my uncle is ready.”

That hurt more than you expected. You swallowed, as if you could rid yourself of your feelings that way. “Then you better go. I am sure your family wishes to say farewell.”

Even you were surprised by how cold your tone was. You sounded like you didn’t even know Jon, as if you didn’t love him. You were detached and you knew it.

You felt his hand on your arm, and shook it off.

“(Y/N), please. I don’t want to leave you like this.”

You whirled on him in that moment, glaring at him. “Excuse me? You don’t want to leave me like this? Perhaps you should have thought about that, before you decided to say you loved me! What did you think would happen? That I’d kiss your cheek and wish you well while you left to a death sentence? Or did you think I’d congratulate you, as if this was the honorable thing to do?” You scoffed, this time getting in his face. “I let you lay with me. I told you I loved you. Does that mean nothing to you?”

“Of course it means something to me, (Y/N)!”  

“You have a strange way of showing it. Leave me, Jon. You’ve made your choice.”

With that, you faced away again. He hugged you, but you did not return it, no matter how badly you wanted to. You remained still while he pressed a kiss to your temple. You remained silent when he told you he loved you.

It was only when you heard the door close behind him that you fell to your knees and began sobbing.

*time skip*

The Boltons were ruthless and brutal. You, and everyone left in Winterfell, knew this. You feared Ramsay, as did they. When Sansa married him, you wanted to warn her, but any time you tried, you were interrupted. After that, it became far too dangerous. You were joyed when you learned she escaped, but you had to hide it.

After all, you were not only protecting yourself.

After Jon had left for the wall, when it was time for your cycle, it never came. That’s how you knew you were pregnant. Skip ahead nine months, and you bore a beautiful baby boy, (S/N). He had Jon’s eyes, but your hair.

It was dangerous, raising a son when you were unwed and alone, but you managed the best you could. While the ways you made coin weren’t exactly savory, you did whatever you could to provide for him. You protected him, too. You avoided angering Ramsay, because you knew how sadistic he was. When Sansa spoke to you, you kept it brief. She did see your son, and you wondered if she knew he was Jon’s.

There wasn’t a single day you didn’t think about Jon. You still loved him, and you regretted the way things ended between the two of you. That didn’t mean you forgave him, however. You were still furious at him, both for not telling you he was leaving, and for leaving you to raise your son alone. Of course, Jon had no way of knowing you’d get pregnant. If he had, he wouldn’t have left. You couldn’t help but be bitter about it. You thought you would never see him again.

But when you learned that he had killed Ramsay, that the Starks now re-took Winterfell, you could scarcely believe it. He was home. Winterfell was home again.

You took your son with you when you decided to confront Jon. You had (S/N) wrapped within a fur cloak, which you held beneath your own to keep him warm. From the outside, no one would be able to tell you were holding him. He wasn’t a tiny little baby anymore; you had to half hold him against your side now, while he slept soundly. He was growing up so quickly.

Finally, you stood before Jon, in the center of the Great Hall. You didn’t care who was watching as you descended forward, to the front of the room where he and Sansa sat.  The room was full with various lords and such you didn’t recognize. When Jon’s eyes met yours, he was obviously stunned. He stood as you approached.

“(Y/N)?” He said your name as if he couldn’t believe it was really you. As he rounded the table and approached you, you felt your anger fading. How could you stay angry with him when he was giving you such a pained yet happy look?

You gave him a one armed hug, holding (S/N) in your other arm.

“It’s good to see you again, Jon. I thought the Wall was a life sentence?”

He smiled. “It is.”

You wondered what he meant by that, but you didn’t ask. There were more important things to discuss, such as your son. The son he had no idea about.

“I need to speak with you, alone.” You whispered. Jon nodded, told everyone he would be back, and left the room with you. Once you were in the hall, away from prying eyes and ears, you finally uncovered (S/N). As soon as Jon looked at the boy, his eyes widened. You couldn’t read his expression.

 “Is he-”

“Yes, Jon. He’s ours,” You nodded.

 It did not surprise you that he could tell. (S/N) looked so much like his father already. You handed your son over, watching the way Jon smiled and laughed at him. It was a beautiful sight, far more than you expected. You half anticipated Jon claiming the boy wasn’t his; you needn’t have been worried.

However, the calmness didn’t last. Jon furrowed his brows and regarded you carefully. 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

“Seven hells,” you scoffed. Wonderful. You hadn’t even been together for more than five minutes and you were already beginning to argue. “What was I supposed to do? Write you and tell you that you have a son? It’s not like you could’ve left the Watch to be with us, is it?” 

“No,” he paused, shaking his head. “You’re right.”

“It’s alright,” You sighed. “I guess we’re even now, huh?” 

Both of you began laughing at that, probably a little more than necessary, but it didn’t matter; you were just happy to see Jon smiling, just as you were happy to be smiling again. 

The three of you stayed there like that for so long that one of the lords came to make sure Jon was alive. After that, Jon had to return, but he made sure you were taken to his chambers first. He told you to wait there, so you did.

Once he returned, you shared what had happened since you last met. It felt just like old times, and once again, you realized you still loved him. Even after everything the two of you faced, your feelings never changed.

You were still just as in love with each other as you were before. Seeing him smile, marveling at your son while he held him, you knew that everything would be okay. This was further confirmed that night, after Jon had given you a room at the hold to sleep in. You got (S/N) to sleep, and asked one of the serving women to check on him. With that, you left to Jon’s chambers.

You didn’t really know what you were doing until you climbed into bed beside him and lightly shook him. He stirred, his eyes opening. You barely gave him a chance to ask what you were doing there before you kissed him. You worried he would push you away, but he didn’t. Instead, he returned the kiss. 

There were still so many problems both of you had to face, both with each other and with outside forces, but none of that mattered; you were reunited. You, Jon, and your son were finally all together. 

A family. 

bad at love - part four

pairings : reddie

words : 1.7K

warings : FLUFF.

Hiya, my dudes! Just wanna thank you all for all the positive feedback I’ve received from this fic. This is the longest chapter yet bc I wanted to make it super fluffy, bc Im a sucker for that shit.

Eddie sat, brick wall hard against his back glaring at the faded beat up car parked across the parking lot. Wondering how it had gotten so late in the evening so quickly, with his red eyes and dried tears laying themselves upon his cheeks. He had hoped Richie were to come running after him and confess his undying love for the boy and profusely apologise for being a dick. And then they would share a passionate kiss and ride off into the sunset.

But, when did Eddie ever get what he wanted? For one, the sun? Completely faded into oblivion, from finishing yet another exhaust filled day only to go, start another one for the other side of the globe. He let out a sigh, and watched his breath turn to fog in front of his face. It was an unusually chilling night, and the boy sat in a short sleeve t-shirt and shorts out in the open air. Mentally cursing himself for not listening to this Mother this morning when she told him to take a jacket to school.

A loud noise distracted Eddie from his thoughts, looking around the area he saw nothing out of the usual. Glancing around to the tinted doors of the arcade, he squinted as he heard a familiar groan behind the door.

Richie could never just do anything right, now could he? Eddie rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the wall, walking over to the door. Placing his hand over the metal he braced himself to push the door forward but was met with quiet a surprise when the door came right back at him, hitting him straight in the face. He let out a groan and the small boy stepped back, doubling over while holding his noise with his left hand. “What the fuck, Richie!”  

“Eddie?” He heard the boy question as the door swung open yet again, this time slightly faster than the last. Eddie was grateful he had moved out of the way beforehand. “Shit! Dude.” Richie paused, taking Eddie’s face in his own hands. Eddie letting him. He examined Eddie’s face over before doubling back and checking again before saying “Why’d you do that now Ed’s?”

“Me?” Eddie exclaimed in shock. “I didn’t do anything, this,” he gestures to his face, blood running down from his nose. “was all you!” He let out a loud sigh, “And, don’t call me that!” He tilted his head back to try and prevent any more blood from dripping down his face. Richie hadn’t moved from his position in front of Eddie, so when he felt the taller boy’s hands on his hips it only took him by surprise. A few moments later, the sound of a zipper was heard opening and shutting. A piece of tissue was brought to Eddie’s attention, as Richie handed him the ply.

It must have been the first time Eddie had properly looked at Richie since inside the arcade because as he removed the ply from Richie’s pale hand he noticed the boy sporting a slowly forming black eye. Eddie rolled his eyes as he placed the tissue to his nose. “Why’d you run into the door you idiot?” Richie glanced to Eddie with a glint of mischief in his eyes, his mouth forming an ‘o.’

“I wanted to be your knight in shining armour.” Richie stood, forcing his shoulders back in an unnatural position, arms rested stiff by his sides and his head held back. Eddie scoffed.

“Well, that worked out so swell for you, then didn’t it? I thought those ugly ass glasses were supposed to help you see not making you even more blind.” Eddie heard Richie scoffed as he walked to the nearest bin, Richie hot on his tail. Throwing away his blood covered tissue. There was a heavy pause between the two boys, their gazes locking from what seemed like the twentieth time that night.

“ah, yes.” Richie said, breaking eye contact. Posture never reducing but now with the addition of a goddamn awful British accent. “Would the kind sir like to accompany me on a drive around our fine establishment this evening?” Eddie watched Richie take a step back and gesture to his beat-up car. “Our chariot awaits.” Richie watched as Eddie rolled his eyes but nevertheless walked toward the passage set.

Richie could hardly contain his excitement. He knew the Eddie liked him back and he was trying his damn hardest to not show how happy he really was, not wanting to scare Eddie away again. The car was silent the only sound other than the roar of the engine was the tapping of Richie’s fingers against the steering wheel to the imaginary beat. Eddie slightly relaxed against the seat, he watched the trees fly past the window a shiver descending his spine every other moment due to the cold weather outside. “Eddie.” Richie turned to face the smaller boy, watching the way his legs were brought up to his chest and his head laid against the window. Keeping one hand on the wheel Richie reached around into the backseat of the car, producing a large dark coloured sweater. He knew he would never be able to do that if Eddie were paying attention but instead using the moment to his advantage. Richie throw the sweater on top of Eddie’s legs immediately watching the smaller boy pull it over his head. The materialistic object was too big for Richie so in no way was it ever going to successfully fit Eddie. The boy hummed in response to Richie after settling into the material. “You know I Love you more than I love your Mom, right?”

The air in the car seemed to come to a standstill. “Richie.” Eddie glanced over at the boy, he watched Richie pull the car over to the side of the road sensing the severity of the conversation he was about to endure but once he car had come to a complete stop the words never came. Richie had taken his hands away from the steering wheel when he heard Eddie take a deep shuttering breathe. In the skip of a heart beat the smaller boy was settled on the top of Richie’s thighs, hands on his face and lips to his lips. Richie was stunned and not at all prepared for this, so surprised by the action he had yet to replicate any movement. Eddie’s lips felt soft against his own, his fingertips perfectly moisturized as the laid in their spot on his cheeks. Richie begin to feel Eddie pull back, but no. That’s one thing Richie did not want. Richie’s hands slide around Eddie’s waist, gripping at the back of his own sweat shirt. He admired how easy it was to hold him as Richie entwined his lips with Eddie’s own once more.

This was Eddie’s first ever real kiss. Of course, he had kissed Richie in that past but never to this extent. The amount of love that Eddie could feel Richie pour into this kiss made his heart skip a beat and a warmth in his belly that had seemed to permanently settle hoping that Richie could feel the same thing in return (he could). He couldn’t imagine having it any other way. He felt Richie’s hot mouth against his own, his lips caressing Eddie’s softer than he could have ever imagined. Richie had come a long way since kissing Eddie at the age of fifteen. But Eddie didn’t know why he had ever wanted to stop. Richie’s lips were chapped there was no doubt about that, but that all seemingly disappeared when he felt his own lips, open slightly due to the feeling of the tentative touch from the other boy’s tongue. Eddie knew how little the other boy cared about personal hygiene and yet that still did not deter him. He thought about the eighty million or so germs they were both swapping but he couldn’t bring himself to think about sharing germs with anyone else.

As soon as it begins, Eddie can feel Richie pulling back from the kiss. Eyes still closed as he hears the shallow breaths from the boy resting his forehead on his own. “Sorry, Ed’s. I could do that for the rest of eternity but I didn’t want you running out of oxygen and dying on me.” Eddie huffs at him, releasing his grip on Richie’s face and settling for wrapping his arms around his neck. Richie tightens his grip around Eddie’s waist, slipping his hands underneath the fabric. Richie uses his nose to nudge Eddie’s upward, Eddie follows suit looking into the others eyes; cheeks flushed, lips slightly swollen. Richie couldn’t get enough. A small smile played on his lips. “It’s always been you, baby boy.” Richie pressed a chaste kiss onto Eddie’s lips. “You shouldn’t ever feel the need to be jealous over your fat Mom.”

Eddie snorted, as he played with the curls on the base of Richie’s neck. “Am I still the only person who can call you daddy?”

Richie’s eyes widen, and Eddie thought the boy would have gotten whiplash if he moved any faster. “W-w-what the- what the fuck.” A smile played on Eddie’s mouth, as he counted the freckles that doted Richie’s nose, which for the recorded wasn’t many due to the shitty car interior light.

“Hey Rich,” Richie hummed, still getting over the shock from the previous topic. “I love you.” Eddie bite his lip, and Richie felt Eddie’s hands slide down from the back of his neck to the front of his shirt. Both hands resting beneath his collar.

Richie smiled, “Yeah I love you too I guess.” Eddie let out an amused scoff and slapped Richie on the chest.

“Oh shut it, Trashmouth.”

Hey everyone! Thankyou all for reading!! I hope iv'e brought the end of the series to a good point and you are all happy with me :’) I really didn’t want this to end but I didn’t want to drag it on and just keep bullshitting a storyline so I needed to stop while it was at a high (if this didn’t make sense, think about why Gerard ended mcr) anywho, I would be happy to write more stuff continuing this if any of ya’ll wanna collaborate on ideas?? bc Im totally down with that

but   yeah    tell  me what you thnk and if you hve any ideas hit me up. even if its to just write lil scenes of like a date or telling the test  of the gang etc etc.

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A True Geisha

My Dearest Son

Many years ago, there were good people like you. But now they are only a memory that will fade into oblivion. These times is when things are more difficult for us, and we must strive harder to reach greatness. 

Our traditions are strong and painful, but nothing pleases me more than seeing in what you have become now. A geisha.

Originally posted by eutana-siacardiaca

What should have been learned over the years, you learned it in the months.

The beauty you show us every night makes me shed tears of joy, and I can’t help but think of that little boy who was always running among the sea and told me anecdotes about our peculiar eyes.

The joys experienced by you are profound, so profound. Because being a man, you proposed to be the most honorable geisha of the family. 

With the art of music and dance, you accelerated the most indomitable hearts, as well as captivating many with the light whisper of your voice singing.

Originally posted by tsujinao

People clamor you, applaud you and give you their smiles, telling you how wonderful your debut, your show, your own art is supposed to be the flow of your feelings.

But you and I, my son, know how difficult the path of a geisha is. Because we are not courtesans, nor wives, we sell our skill and not our body. 

We create a secret world, where there is only beauty. The same word “geisha” means “artist”. And to become geisha is to be judged, as a work of art in movement.

Originally posted by eetkey

You paint your face to hide your face, your eyes are like the deep sea, the desire doesn’t exist for the geisha, the feeling doesn’t exist for the geisha.

The geisha is an artist of the ethereal world; she dances, sings, entertains everything other people wants. The rest are shadows, the rest is secret.

Agony and beauty go hand in hand, our feet will suffer, our fingers will bleed, and even sitting and sleeping will be painful.

But most importantly, you cannot consider yourself a true geisha until you have stopped a man with a single glance.

Nevertheless, when you prepare tea, when you serve sake, when you dance, when you tie the obi, prepare yourself for the most complicated and difficult art that you will experience in your life: Love.

My son, of the arts you have learned with pride, I am afraid it has not been enough to train you with the most inevitable. Turning in the path, without stopping the time, sings your heart because you wish to see. Earth, sun and moon, will teach you to love.

Because the wind will want to teach you to love.

Originally posted by gertieparr

The day you fall in love with someone special, always remember what our Ancestors said:

In spring, cherry blossoms.

Originally posted by kvnai

In summer, the song of the birds.

Originally posted by tana-the-dreamchaser

The moon of autumn.

Originally posted by halloweentreat

And the cold and white snow, in winter…

Originally posted by black-and-white-gifs

To man Geisha can only be a half wife, we are the wives of nightfall, and yet to learn of kindness after so much angerness, to understand that a little boy with more courague than he knew, would find his prayers were answered.

You cannot say to the sun More Sun. Or to the rain Less Rain.

It goes without saying that men can be as distinct from each other as the shrubs that bloom at different times of the year.

Otherwise, if by then, and only then, the love you profess to whom you chose as your lover has flourished and has given way to a great change, be sure that fate decided to unite both of you in life and death.

Do all you can, and the rest give it to Destiny.

Live life with all your strength, be proud of who you are, the honor you give to our family and Ancestors, and never let anyone else try to destroy you, because at the end they would be making an unforgivable mistake.

Originally posted by bunsies

And son, always remember that the human heart is like the reflection of the surface of the water, the mouth says things contrary to what the heart says, but in truth, the heart wants us to accept each other, even the people with bad intentions.

Love you Always


(Finally, my sweet @sammymationsart I saw your beautiful Geisha Jack and I couldn’t help myself but begin to write this madness, which I was also quite inspired by Memoirs of a Geisha)

Working, kind of.

Originally posted by sneezes

Pairing: Vernon/Reader

Genre: Fluffy fluff fluff

Work Count: 2k

Summary: Either Vernon serves you and risks screwing up, or he sits in the kitchen until you leave. He chose the latter. 

Author’s note: Seriously, I was about to call this “Vernon with the good hair” just for shits and giggles.I’m really just digging using my weird stories and turning them into imagines I guess. Plus I love dorky Seventeen being bad at flirting. I’m defs going to do more. I even have “Quirky Tales of a Flirting Neophyte” Feat. everyone’s favorite bad flirter. hint hint; he 19 and I don’t think he’s ever properly spoken to a girl in his life. Anyways Enjoy!!

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◦ pairing: reader x yongguk

◦ rating: m [angst]

◦ word count: 3.1k

◦ a/n: [ inspired by this here instagram post by bang yongguk himself ] I’m outing myself as @yongguk-hell-chyeah’s byg muse anon ;) Here’s that fic we were talking about! And lastly, @the-porcelain-doll-xo I’m tagging you so you definitely keep thinking about your new bias :P

m a s t e r l i s t

Sighing, you turned to face him, watching as he squinted, his hands moving quickly across his lap. You had been lying there for what felt like forever, your naked body draped over the silk sheets. The dull lighting of the room left you staring at the light on the ceiling, wondering when this little craft of his would be over. Your hands roamed your own body, brushing carefully over the curves of your breasts and the sides of your hips, knowingly drawing his eyes to the places he couldn’t resist. “Yongguk…” you breathed, your lips parting slightly as you spoke his name softly. Truthfully, you were swimming with desperation for him. It was supposed to be the other way around.

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Nothing But The Weather // Chap 1

*Deep breath* Alright.

This is my new multichap fic I’m focusing on, guys! It’s a Beauty and The Beast Klance Au (Oh yes, so original, I know) But it’s a mix with the original story! So, it may have some twists! 

Anyways; here’s the link for Ao3 http://archiveofourown.org/works/9215594/chapters/20901749

And that’s it! I hope you enjoy! 

Disclaimer: Voltron doesn’t belong to me. 

It’s raining.

The fifteen years old prince pants heavily as he leans forward, resting his forehead against the cold ground at the entrance of his own castle, his dry heaving being tuned out by the sound of the raindrops falling down on him.

The loud and shallow breaths he’s making are not enough to fill his lungs and the desperation to breathe increases by the second. Everything around him it’s bright; the abnormal purple glow envelops him in a tight and suffocating ball and he can’t breathe.

Something on his ear pops and then Keith’s finally able to hear. Thunder and raindrops make their way to his ears and Keith could almost laugh in relief when his lungs take in the air they were missing.

He stays still for a few seconds, inhaling and exhaling rhythmically until the pain in the back of his head disappears and the hot feeling inside his skin dims just enough for him to feel the coldness of the rain on his skin.

Groggily and with a hint of dizziness, the Prince blinks slowly only to snap his eyes wide open as they meet the reflection on the puddle below him.

Big and bright golden eyes stare right back at him, just as wide and terrified as he feels. Any sings of his birth eye color erased entirely, the white area around them gone and leaving behind only a deep golden space on its place.

The teen lets out a shaky breath, “W-what –?”

It takes him a moment before he acknowledges the smug chuckle coming just a few feet from him.

A tall dark figure stands proudly in front of him, looking down on him with pale golden eyes similar to his own and something inside him snaps at the sight.

“Haggar.” Keith whispers dumbfounded as he recognizes the figure of the exiled witch before he frowns deeply, “What did you do to me, you witch!” He snarls, sharp and angry.

The figure hums unamused at his anger, “I made you a favor. You should be thanking me, young Prince.”

Keith suppresses the shiver that went down his spine at the deep and eerie voice. Not being satisfied with the answer, he slams his fist against the ground, water splashing at the hit.

“What did you do to me!?” He shouts, his voice dripping with venom and yet the witch just laughs at his face without flinching.

“I made you stronger.” Haggar hisses, “You’re one of us, now.”

His blood turns cold.

“What –“

“Congratulations, Prince Keithel, you’re now one of the most powerful creatures in the kingdom.” Haggar smirks, as she waves a hand over where prince’s on the ground, gesturing to his whole being.

”Vrepit sa, young cub.”  

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Don't do space drugs, kids

I’m actually really proud of this one! Another fix for @taylor-tut
If y'all have something you want me to write, hit up my ask box or even just message me. I like friends. Also I’m on mobile, so if the cut doesn’t work, I’m super sorry.

‘Lance, you aren’t dying.’

Those four little words had become like a mantra in his head for the past hour, a lifeboat keeping him safe in denial. In truth, he really wasn’t dying, but being sick in space was still scary. Normally, Lance had a tendency to hide any illness that happened to strike him, downing copious amounts of DayQuil and going about his life. He had collapsed a handful of times in a childhood full of various illnesses, which, for him, was a pretty big deal.

Still, there was no way to do that now. Lance was a paladin, albeit the weakest link of the chain in his mind, and paladins were close. No, he couldn’t possibly just work through this. He couldn’t bear the thought of worrying anyone, not this early in their whole “family dynamic” thing. Besides, he didn’t have DayQuil, or any medicine, jo matter what he wished.

Instead, Lance decided to talk to Allura. She would be discreet, surely. And thus far, human biology didn’t seem that different from that of Alteans. So everything would be fine.

“You’re symptoms seem a bit strange from my perspective, Lance.” Allura’s brow was creased with worry, despite Lance’s bright smile. Keeping such a wide grin plastered on his face would probably help him get the space drugs, he figured.

A few anxious thoughts crossed his mind, flashing words like 'addiction’, 'side effects’, and 'death’, but he shrugged them off. He just had to make it through the next few days, when his body (hopefully) would be fully recovered.

“Nah, by human standards this is pretty mild!” Allura’s brows remained creased. “I promise, Allura, I’m fine. Well, not fine fine, but I’m not dying or anything. Just a sore throat and a little headache, that’s all.” This time he was lying, purposely leaving out the swirling feeling in his stomach and that fact that his headache wasn’t exactly small - his eyes felt like that were being scraped out with a sharp spoon. Still, he grinned and bore it, nodding as she told him the specifics of the little green pills she’d handed him before shooing him away so she could rest. Allura always seemed tired these days, and Lance reminded himself not to complain of exhaustion when those better than him were also ailing.

As per the princess’ instructions, he downed the pills with a full pouch of water and a bite or two of food goo, and within the hour, he felt the effects. His eyes didn’t really feel better, they felt… huh. None of him felt better per say. His aches and pains felt numb, not better, and never before had he really noticed the difference. He found after some trying he could walk normally, turn his head, speak, lift his arms… the feeling returned without pain as numbness faded into oblivion and was replaced with a feeling Lance could only describe as “anxious pins and needles”.

Every inch of him felt jittery and overflowing with energy. It reminded him of the time his brother had first started taking Ridellan for his ADHD, and described feeling his hair standing on edge inside his brain. Only, Lance felt a little different. Energized.

He could still feel the quakes of what had to be a fever coursing through his veins, but pure energy flowed alongside it, and he was itching to train. Bouncing off the walls.

When he came running into the training deck, Shiro raised an eyebrow.

“Lance?” he asked. “What’s going on with you?”

“You look like death, man,” Pidge added. “Maybe you should skip training today and nap.”

Lance felt himself shaking his head furiously. Hair got in his eyes but he didn’t feel it, or recognize his own hand pushing the stray lock away.

Huh. Weird.

“What’s weird?” Hunk asked, stepping forward.

He said that out loud?

“You did. That too. Seriously, are you ok?” Pidge asked, starting to look really worried.

“I’m great!” Lance beamed, though he felt a little like his body was a second suit of armour, a suit far too big for him.

“You sure?” Keith asked. God, even mullet was worried.

“Yes!! I felt a little off this morning but I had a drink and some breakfast and now I feel great! Best medicine ever!!” He could feel himself practically shouting, but didn’t know how to control his own voice now. Starts flashed quickly across his vision, but he shook his head and pulled out his bayard.

“Let’s go, let’s go let’s goletsgoletsgooo!” Lances words came out so fast and loud that his tongue couldn’t keep up and fell behind, slapping the words together in the least graceful way possible.

Shiro and Hunk exchanged worries glances, and Keith stepped forward. Maybe if Lance just worked this energy spurt off, he’d go back to bed and rest. Or shower. Jesus Christ, he was sweating bullets, and practically vibrating where he stood.

He whispered something vaguely reassuring to Shiro as he took his place to begin sparring, hoping to calm their leader’s nerves.

Pidge, on the other hand, ran off to find Allura. She had a feeling something was wrong. Really wrong.

Everything was fuzzy. His head was pounding and fuck it was boiling in here but he had so much energy and somehow amidst all the pain still felt that horrible numbness and he had to get it out of his system.

Keith charged at him and he moved to the side so fast that he stumbled, a whine of pain escaping his lips. No, he couldn’t give up now, once the numbness settled down he could keep going he just had to… had to…

Dodge. Punch. Kick. Shot, at the feet. Keith was down, although, of Lance was at all healthy he would have realized Keith had purposely fallen to end the fight without fever-fuelled tears.

Lance himself collapsed into a chair, only to have Pidge run frantically in two ticks later with a fearful yet determined expression. She pressed her hand to Lance’s cheek, and swore.

Shiro didn’t stop her.

Everything in Lance’s view was blurry and fuzzy and full of imaginary stars. He could barely breathe, but the numbness had finally began to wear off. Something familiar was by his side, and he leaned into someone’s arms at their insistence.

“C'mon Lance, I got you,” the voice said. It sounded like Keith.

“Bonding moment?” Lance asked weakly, feeling rather faint all of the sudden.

Keith hummed back at him. “Yeah, buddy. Cause I’m cradling you in my arms again.”

Listen we chat happily about an In the Heights movie but I don’t want it to happen unless I am on the production team bc I KNOW they will not make my girls badass enough and fade them into Usnavi’s Ultimate Narrative™

(also I would never erase Sonny and Pete’s gentle love I’m starting a kickstarter to give me the rights to the In the Heights film and titling it Vanessa Learns to Connect with Her Emotions)


Energy: Projective
Planet: Mars
Element: Fire
Deity: Selene
Associated Stones: Quartz Crystal, Holey Stones
Associated Metals: Lodestone, Meteorite
Powers: Protection, Defensive Magic, Strength, Healing, Grounding, Return of Stolen Goods

Magical/Ritual Lore:

Because iron is seldom found in pure form except in meteorites, the earliest iron available for use by humans was obtained from these strange celestial objects. Meteorites, which were observed falling from the heavens, were used to make simple tools, supplementing bone and stone implements by earlier humans.

Throughout most of the world, humans eventually learned how to remove iron from its ore, which made it available for wider use.

Once this occurred, it was soon limited to purely physical applications and was restricted in magic and religion. In ancient Greece, for example, no iron was brought into the temples. Roman priests could not be shaved or scraped with iron during bodily cleansing.

Ireland, Scotland, Finland, China, Korea, India, and other countries have severe taboos against iron. Again and again in ancient rituals fire was made without iron, altars built without its use, and magical rituals performed only after divesting the body of all traces of the metal.

Herbs were usually collected with non-iron knives, owing to the belief that the vibrations of this metal would “jam” or “confuse” the herb’s energies.

The Hindus once believed that the use of iron in buildings would spread epidemics, and, even to this day, a gift of iron in any form is thought by some to be unlucky.

However, iron did have its place in magic. Specifically, it was worn or used in protective rituals. Its powerful, projective vibrations were thought to be feared by demons, ghosts, fairies, genii and other fantastic creatures.

In China, dragons were thought to fear iron. When rain was needed, pieces of the metal were thrown into “dragon pools” to upset the creatures and send them into the sky in the form of rain clouds.

In old Scotland, iron was used to avert danger when a death had occurred in the house. Iron nails or knitting needles were thrust into every item of food-cheese, grain, meat and so on-to act as a lightning rod, attracting the confusing vibrations that death may arouse

within the living and thus sparing the food of possible contamination.

Classical Romans drove nails into their house walls to preserve their health, especially during times of plague.

Because of its protective effects iron was sometimes thought, conversely, to be sacred, and thieves in ancient Ireland wouldn’t dare to steal it.

Magical Uses:

Iron-pure projective power, active, seeking, blinding, confusing, guarding.

For heavy protection, place small pieces of iron in each room of the house or bury at the four comers of your property. In earlier times, iron fences were sometimes used to halt the flow of negativity into the home.

During protective or defensive magic, wear an iron ring engraved with the symbol of Mars. Or, obtain a three-inch thick white candle and eight old iron nails. Warm the nails by a fire (or in a red candle's flame), then thrust each into the white candle in a random pattern. Light the nail-studded candle and visualize yourself as guarded, protected, secure.

Wearing iron or carrying a small piece of this metal enhances physical strength and is an excellent talisman for athletes.

Iron is also used during healing rituals. A small piece is placed beneath the pillow at night. This was originally done to scare away the "demons" that had caused the disease but can be thought of as strengthening the body’s ability to heal itself.

Iron rings or bracelets are worn to draw out illnesses from the body. This dates back to at least ancient Roman times.

A curious ritual from Germany to cure toothache: Pour oil onto a piece of heated iron. The fumes which rise from the iron will act on the problem.

In old Scotland, healing stones-quartz crystals or holey stones were kept in iron boxes to guard against supernatural creatures who might steal them.

Iron is also worn for grounding, for closing down the psychic centers, and for impeding the flow of energy from the body. This, of course, isn’t the best during magical ritual but is fine when the subject is under psychic or emotional attack, is physically depleted or wishes to focus on physical matters.

Iron horseshoes and the nails that attach them to the hooves are ancient magical tools. They might have first been used in ancient Greece, where they were called seluna and were associated with the Moon and the goddess Selene.

A horseshoe hung in the home over the front door confers protection.

While theories differ as to the “proper” way to hang the horseshoe, I always place it points up. Ideally, it is to be nailed with three of its original nails.

An old iron horseshoe nail is sometimes bent into a ring (if you can find one long enough) and worn for luck and healing.

If you have had something stolen from you and have a fireplace handy, try this spell. Take a horseshoe nail that you’ve found by chance. Drive this into the fireplace, visualizing the stolen object returning to your home. It is done.

There are still magicians and Wiccans who remove all traces of iron from their bodies before working magic, but this custom is fading into oblivion.

anonymous asked:

nonbinary ppl don't exist, this was created by tumblr ppl lol. you are either a man or a woman, cis or trans..

I can feel snot running down my upper lip as my vision blurs. I must look positively crazed right now.

My Victorian servants are rolling their eyes at me, as if they’d expected such a reaction and yet are exhausted by it.

“You never existed! This–” my maid waves wildly around her, at the crimson manor that housed me all these years and the dead and twisted tree under which I buried grand-papa on my sixth birthday “–isn’t real!”


“Illusions, child,” my butler says, a crooked grin growing on his face, like a crack in his parched skin. “Illusions weaved by the people of Tumblr.”

I lose my balance and fall.
As I lay there, disoriented, I notice autumn leaves rustling on the ground through my slowly fading feet.

“Tumblr?” I ask.

My servants (or were they ever even mine?) break into laughter.

“Yes, Tumblr, my child,” my butler says, his voice croaking, “a fairy realm on the left of Avalon.”

“Well,” my maid interrupts, “on the right if you’re coming from Glastonbury.”

“Either way!” My butler shouts, before exchanging a sour look with his wife. “You were never real! Your whole existence, a mere trick from Tumblr!”

I am not listening anymore. I try to wipe my face clean but my hands are gone. I look down at where my legs used to be and see empty pyjamas.

As I fade into oblivion, to the sound of my old servants bickering about traffic, my mind conjures one final thought:

fuck u i’ll keep callin myself nonbinary lol


Based on this amazing story from @neen-writes Go read it first if you haven’t yet! (’Broken’ can be read as a complementary fic and follow-up story?)

Word count: 1.6k

Angst ahead!

Thanks to @bluuesparrow for beta-ing :)

Seeing him like that, beaten to the ground with no strength left to stand back up, had Levy moving instinctively to stand protectively between Gajeel and the rogue mages.

“LEVY!” She heard him yelling, probably cursing under his breath for her recklessness. She was at her limit too, but the fire in her soul commanding her to protect him helped her deal with the exhaustion and pain that wracked her body.

Without noticing it, Levy’s hands were moving, drawing the spell ‘Mirror’ and pouring all the magic she had left into it. This was it; this was their last chance to make it out alive. If she screwed up now, not just her, but Gajeel too will-

No. Get it together, Levy. I’ll do it right.

Her magic flowed into her spell which grew into a massive script in front of her. With the magic blast coming towards them and with no more options available, Levy braced herself for the impact.

This will have to do it.

“Damnit Lev, get-” She didn’t hear the last part of his sentence as it was drowned out by the loud sound of magic clashing against her barrier. The attack was stronger than she expected and she had to dig the balls of her feet in the ground when she was pushed back from the impact. Her body tensed up with the effort of keeping the barrier up. Her lungs burned for the much needed air while her consciousness threatened to leave her at any given moment.

I can’t give up! I want- no, I will protect Gajeel!

She screamed when she willed the last traces of her magic to be poured into her barrier. She knew it was risky as hell to use that much magic, but if she was to fall, she would make sure she’d at least take down most of the enemies with her.

Thank the heavens above, her spell worked wonderfully just as she expected. The attack flew back towards the rogue mages, blasting them away and knocking most of them out cold. Relief flooded through her as she tried to recover her breath with painful effort.

Her arms fell limp to her sides as Levy was unable to will her trembling body to listen to her anymore. She knew the risks of her plan but went through with it anyways.

At least…

She managed to turn her head slowly to look at Gajeel on the ground staring at her in awe and concern. The corners of her mouth moved upwards in a weak smile when her hazel eyes met his red irises.

He’s… okay…

The distinctive metallic taste of blood in her mouth reminded her of the unavoidable predicament she had dragged herself into. She felt light-headed in a moment and her eyelids grew heavy as she couldn’t focus her eyes on Gajeel anymore.

I’m sorry, Gajeel.

Levy’s eyes rolled back into her head as she fell unconscious to the ground like a broken doll.


When Levy opened her eyes, the only thing she could feel was exhaustion. Even when it seemed like she had slept for ages, her body felt like lead and her eyelids were so heavy that it was an impressive feat that she had her eyes open. Heavy breaths escaped her lips and fogged the mask that covered her mouth and nose helping her breathe.

“Levy…” Her tired eyes looked to her right and there she found Pantherlily in his large form looking down at her with concern in his eyes. When she met his gaze, a relieved smile graced the Exceed’s features as the corner of his eyes crinkled in happiness.

“How are you feeling?” He brushed her hair from her sweaty forehead with a gentle paw. She tried to utter a ‘Fine’ but instead a groan escaped her lips.

“Don’t push yourself. You still need rest.” Levy blinked slowly in understanding and smiled tiredly at her friend.

“I’ll let the other-”

“Lily,” Gajeel growled, interrupting his friend before he could finish his statement. He stood at the end of the bed with arms crossed over his chest and narrow eyes directed at Levy. His body language screamed tension and anger.

“Get out,” he commanded in his gruff voice.

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Kings and Queens. {Ch 13}

Summary: A Throne of Glass AU inspired by the Breakfast Club (1985). Five students come together for Saturday detention, and realize they are not all that different. You can read previous chapters here.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy the remaining chapters, as there are only 3 left (and an epilogue) after this! I love writing this story, and it makes me so happy that you all do, too. Let me know what you think. :)



I hated people for judging me, and yet, I was just as bad as the ones who did.

I couldn’t help my eyes as they continuously glanced at Aelin Galathynius, who was the one person I had hated more than anyone else in that school.

She walked about, her head held high, both sexes constantly wishing they could be nearer to her. She was popular. She was the it girl……and I was the opposite.

It’s not that I craved popularity. The idea of being in the spotlight never appealed all that much to me. It actually terrified me. But, it would have been nice to not have to worry about hateful stares or getting ignored to the point that people didn’t even realize that they ran into me in the hallways.

She was different than I expected her to be. As she told us her story, I couldn’t help but cry. I had been there before, contemplating whether my life was worth it. Every word that came out of her mouth…..It had come from mine once, too.

I hated myself for it……but I was beginning to like Princess Aelin.

Keep reading

Live and move on. It hurts and probably will for awhile, it might stop you to feel anything but emptiness, and it might make you feel like there is no other option available but to stand there and just give everything up. But darling, surely this is just an illusion. Fear and frustration is overwhelming you and it will only fade into oblivion once you’re done with it. The past is over, it’s done and dusted and there’s nothing you can do to bring it back. Release yourself from the attachment. You must claim the pieces left and lift yourself from the memories. It’s time to forgive, it’s time to turn the page and begin to live again.
—  d.r.n