from my nightmare

Innocence of the Damned (Inspired by the song”Field of innocence” by evanescence)

I still remember the world i use to live in from the memories of a life that isn’t mine anymore

Slowly those feelings turned into the anger i’m still blinded by now

My heart is missing or is dying by now

An uneven trade for the real world

I just want to go back to a time where nothing mattered and i could feel happiness at least

I still remember the sun always warm on my back sometimes giving it a minor burn

Sometimes i wake up from my nightmares feeling cold like many nights alone

Where has my life gone to

Where has my happiness gone to

Trapped in the eyes of a stranger

I just sometimes wish i could go back to that place where i could just be happy and not worry about the constant violence that could be waiting to strke me at any moment

And just waking up feeling the pain always hitting me it just became nothing but every waking moment from death that i come close to every day

I still remember him and i still remember what he did to me

But i’m still going to move on

My innocence maybe gone and my happiness maybe damned but i’m still going to move on.

N̡ͫ̚e̊̊͒̆v̨̔̌ͬͧ̎̋ͣȇ̌̓̃ͦ̌̂ȓ̄͘-̐̃Ė͋͂ͩ̓͛͏n̽̎̃̈̃ͫ́dͮͮͮͯ̅̀ͪi̅͗ͤ̆̉̍͝n̈́̀̉ḡ ͐́ͦ͋N̛ĩ̓̉͋̓̌ǵ̏̾ͬh̴̔ͯ̿ͭt̂̊m̈́̏ͪ͐ͥ̚â̶̊̂͆̿ͪrͦ̂̃ͬ́̄̈e̵͆̊̎

Send a symbol for the following:

™ - for my muse to become jealous of the attention your muse is giving someone else
✔ - for my muse to respond to praise from yours
✗ - for my muse to respond to being scolded or punished by yours
♠ - for my muse to forcibly restrain yours
♢ - for my muse to introduce yours to a family member
♖ - for my muse to submit to or obey your muse’s orders
Ұ - for my muse to comfort yours after witnessing an emotional meltdown
✺ - for my muse to help yours get through a frightening situation
✤ - for my muse to wake yours from a nightmare
✞ - for my muse to talk about somebody’s death
✉ - for my muse to write a letter/send an email to yours
✂ - for my muse to rescue yours from danger
¿ - for my muse to ask yours a personal or uncomfortable question
♥ - for my muse to express physical affection to yours
ღ - for my muse to express verbal affection for yours
♬ - for my muse to hum or sing to calm yours down

Add ‘reverse’ to switch our muses’ positions. e.g. send ‘✤ reverse’ for your muse to wake mine from a nightmare, or ‘¿ reverse’ plus a question to ask it of my muse.

Ball Chain & Satin

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: “Can you write a one shot where Bucky and Reader are getting married, but Bucky is scared. Angst or fluff, it’s up to you. Thanks!” Requested by Anonymous.

Word Count:1,391

Warnings: Language (probably)

A/N: I’m working on my requests, yay me! Oh boii, the fluff is strong :) Hope you’ll like it!

Originally posted by heartsandwheels

You were in front of the mirror, admiring your sleeveless satin wedding gown when someone knocked on the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

Grabbing a fistful of satin, you gathered up the skirt of your gown and moved closer to the door. You pressed your ear against the wood and heard him shuffling around on the other side of the door.

“Buck, what are you doing here? We’re not supposed to see each other before the ceremony.”

“I wanted to see you.”

“You’ll see me in an hour. Now, hush!”

Keep reading

I am pushing myself every day, to be a better person, to learn, to be someone worth something some day. Trying to do it all, but the truth is, it doesn’t matter. None of it does. Nothing I do ever will, it never has. At the end of the day, I’m just a small girl with dreams that are way out of her league - stuck between living in the moment and planning the next 10 years of my life, between being okay with not having life figured out and crying myself to sleep because i have no idea what to do. Trying so hard and still not being good enough, having people who expect great things but tell me I’m worth nothing.

On good days, I’m okay with everything I’ve achieved. I’m okay with who I am and who I have become. I’m okay with not having my life figured out at 19. There’s gotta be more to life than being right and making sound decisions, there’s gotta be more than just following a plan.

But on the bad, all i can think about is turning 20 in two short days, and being nowhere close to achieving what I’ve always wanted. Nowhere close to being someone who’s on a path to greatness, no one who deserves a damn thing in the world. On the bad nights, I can’t figure out if my existence has even a tiny bit of importance. So what if i do my hardest every day? The bad days make me question everything I do, have ever done. Make me question every decision I’ve made, I keep thinking that if I just vanished, nothing would change. On the bad days, every mistake, every little error is a demon of its own, telling me I won’t ever be enough. And with each bad day, a good one seems to get further and further away.

I’m stuck and i don’t quite know how to rescue myself.
No one can say things worse than what I tell myself every second of the day.
So what do you do, when you are your own nightmare come to life?

—  And to think I couldn’t wait to grow up
ACOMAF Part 1: The House of Beasts Chapters 1-13 (Rhys POV)

Chapters 1-4: Return from UtM to Feyre’s Wedding Panic Attack
Chapter 5: Feyre’s Wedding & Arrival in the Night Court
Chapter 6: Learning to Read
Chapter 7: Returning Feyre to the Spring Court
Chapters 8-10: The Next Three Weeks & Retrieving Feyre for Her Second Trip
Chapter 11: Feyre’s Second Night Court Visit
Chapters 12-13: Rescuing Feyre from the Spring Court

I did a thing. We’ll see if I can do more before ACOWAR comes out. Below is Chapters 1-4 of ACOMAF in Rhys’s POV and above are the links to those same chapters plus the rest on AO3. Hope ya like!

Summary: Roughly Chapters 1-4 of ACOMAF from Rhys’s POV. It’s mostly a focus on the last two weeks before Feyre gets married with summation thrown in on how his time has been since leaving UtM. Includes her nightmare that opens the book and some lovely chatting with Morrigan the day of Feyre’s wedding.

Hello Feyre Darling

The mountains of the Illyrian Steppes wrought a chill through my bones I hadn’t felt in years.

We flew for most of the day, listening to wherever the shadows at my brother’s back directed us, until at last the sun began to set and we landed in a small clearing between the trees.

They were close. Near enough to sent them on the tendrils of wind that carried their blood and sweat through the heavy pine of the woods. Since my return, I’d lost count of the number of rogue Illyrian war bands I’d had to hunt down and confront. And that wasn’t counting the number Cassian and Azriel had taken care of in my absence.

Today’s hunt felt restless. The outcome had been decided the moment we left the Steppes. These primal encounters never changed even if I spent the hours flying faster towards them hoping they would.

A confrontation. An offering of second chances. Bow down and obey - or pay the debt they owed for the blood they’d spilt, the debt for using fifty years of freedom to push the boundaries however they pleased.

The Night Court would need every drop in the coming weeks that it could spare. Petty disagreements over territory, among other things, wasn’t something I could deal with in the middle of a shift that sought to overthrow the entirety of Prythian.

And once Illyrian alliances shifted, they rarely shifted back.

So in blood, they usually ended.

We threaded through the trees, Cassian and Azriel silently stalking several paces out on either side of me until we hit the gap where the band made camp. It was a small legion, perhaps a dozen or so with their chosen lord in the center. An exquisite gash ran down the center of his cheek. No doubt he had been forced to earn his rank, had likely volunteered for the blood bath.

I wondered what they had done with the bodies, if they’d bothered to bury them properly in Illyrian fashion or had left them to rot in the snow.

Their heads turned in our direction as we neared close enough for them to catch our scent, but by then it was already too late. I held their minds steady from the grip of my power long before the three of us cleared the trees lining the perimeter of their camp.

My brothers strode quietly out from the trees, the swords they’d been gifted at the Blood Rite brandished in their hands in an offensive gesture, ready to strike at a moment’s signal from me.

Slowly, I narrowed my eyes on the newly elected lord and approached, tendrils of darkness trailing in my wake, my wings stretched out wide enough at my back to send a jolt of fear down even the toughest Illyrian’s back.

“Do I need to bother asking?”

My voice was flat, hardly even a question as the lord looked me over once and spat directly at my feet. “Whore,” he cursed and internally, I savored the feel of my mental claws dragging through his mind, undoing every last piece of who he was and would ever become before I let his body fall limp and ragged to the snow. I didn’t even wait. Little impulses of pain trembled along his skin and muscles in those last seconds before he gave up and was no more.

All round me, the forest rang silent save for the bitter, cold wind howling my sins in my ears.

Red splattered in harsh contrast against the snow at my feet, large sloppy drops dripping from Truth-Teller’s blade.

Azriel looked stoically at me as if he hadn’t just shed the blood of a half-dozen men he’d once shared camp with. I often wondered how he managed to lock that darkness away so well.

Slowly, he lifted a brow as snow crunched between Cassian’s heavy boots on my other side.

“Rhys?” Cassian said, dragging my attention down to my hands. They were shaking in a near violent manner.

Whore.

“Let’s go.”

“Rhys-”

I grabbed both their hands and winnowed on the spot before they could say another word.

I did not join them at the House of Wind that night for dinner.


There was blood everywhere.

All over the three young fae hooded and kneeling on the unforgiving marble floor, the dagger I watched fall clattering to that same ground, and most especially all over her.

Feyre stood reaching with a trembling hand for the second dagger covered in blood. Her clothes were soaked from merely one kill that shouldn’t have garnered that much evidence of her deeds. It carried onto her hands - her poor, stuttering hands that plunged themselves upon the fae woman singing herself into death’s waiting arms.

Amarantha sat poised on the throne calling Feyre on with praise. It felt disgustingly wrong.

Feyre pulled the third dagger and I knew what to expect as the veil was to be lifted on the final victim. Tamlin would be waiting and then our fate would be in the hands of this small human girl none of us knew. I felt like I was going to be sick even as Feyre questioned whether or not she could go through with one more murder - just one more murder, and we would all be free. Such a steep price to pay for her.

The hood lifted. Silence fell.

The blood stood out in stark relief against the resounding quiet of the room.

Feyre knelt before the third victim - before herself, her ears turned up into two stiff points, her skin smooth and blended into a soft perfection only my own breed possessed. And her body, which had become so long and elegant with its new fae gifted powers, sat strongly before her, beseeching her move forward.

And that’s when I knew where I was.

I saw Amarantha up on her throne because I saw her from Feyre’s eyes and not my own place on the dias where I should have been. This was nothing new. We’d been inside this prison countless times before and always we failed to get out alive.

Murderer.

The words chanted inside Feyre’s mind as a flurry of self-loathing and hopelessness I only ever felt inside myself welled up beneath her skin.

Butcher.

She angled the dagger at herself and my lungs screamed inside of me to stop her as I felt her anticipate the relief that blade could give her. No, no, never -

Monster.

A relief she welcomed, craved even. It was horrifying to watch, to feel.

Liar.

And it killed me to think she could see herself that way, in any way other than the determined, resourceful woman I’d met Under the Mountain who had saved us all and lost herself in the process.

“Feyre!” I screamed inside her mind, as violently and brutally as I once had to stop Amarantha from attacking her.

Deceiver.

But it was too late.

Feyre thrusted the knife into her own chest and I watched as my mate willingly committed suicide before my own eyes. Somehow, it was a thousand times worse than hearing her neck snap against her will.

Keep reading

Dear parents of autistic children,

No, your child doesn’t do weird things “for no reason”. They do it for a reason, you just don’t know it yet. You have different brains, different perspectives, so sometimes things that are obvious to them are a mystery to you. But you don’t have to ignore it and blame it on them. You can make an effort, reach out to them and figure out the reason.

Do they scream in public when it looks like everything is okay? Well, there’s probably a reason for that. Maybe the situation is overwhelming to their senses, it’s too loud, to bright, to crowded, and they need some space and time to recover. Maybe they can’t stim because other people keep telling them it looks weird, so they end up exhausted much faster. Maybe you are breaking their routine by being outside at this time. Or maybe you are going through the supermarket “the wrong way”, not how you usually do it. Maybe they forgot their comfort object at home, and just realized that. Maybe they are in pain and can’t communicate that. Maybe they are very hungry and don’t realize that yet because it’s hard for them to recognize their needs and emotions. Maybe it’s a combination of those, or something different altogether.

Either way, they probably don’t do it “for no reason”. You just don’t see the reason. Make an effort to communicate. If they are verbal, ask them. If they can’t speak with their mouth at the moment or ever, use alternative methods of communication. If they can’t explain it, consult other autistic people, including autistic adults who probably have a bunch of ideas as to why your child does that weird thing. Don’t dismiss it, don’t complain about it, don’t blame your child for doing it. Try to see the world from their perspective. Respect their needs and feelings. Learn more about autism from other autistic people.

And life will be much better and easier for both you and your child.

5 a.m. Thoughts

Someone who’s going to hold my hand in the car and outdo my goofy dancing. Someone who’s going to let me pick on them, giving it back twice as bad. Someone who will come over at 1am when I’m too afraid to sleep alone. Someone who won’t mind sitting up at 5am when I’m physically sick from my anxiety and nightmares. Someone who understands that I have horrible days but that they make my good days that much better. Someone who kisses me at every comma in my sentences. Someone who will wrap me up when I lean into them, in the middle of the bar or in the middle of the kitchen. Someone who traces their fingers along my back and answers my hundreds of questions. Someone who listens to me ramble on about politics and things that make me feel one way or another. Someone who remembers my favorite flower and song and weather. Someone who doesn’t make me question how they feel. Someone who wants me, through & through.
That’s the girl I want.

You will never get away from the nightmares in your past, it will haunt you with flashbacks and panic attacks, until you give up and realize…
it will always be there in the same boat, with you
— 

Viola CN ‘’Past’’

Can we ever forget it?