i never tire of the the sea

Lyrics written by Namjoon

Because he didn’t only write “I’mma beat that p*ssy like you never ever felt before”

-“Having tight schedules Even tough i’m tired,I smile
Cause in a family called bangtan i’m a not an only child”
-Unpack Your Bags

-”I can be assigned to many places,
But why can’t I find the real me anywhere?”-
So 4 More

-”I don’t know whether I’ve lost the way
or whether from the beginning I was lost
even when I’m with someone, one corner of my heart is lonely”

-”This sea is too deep
Still, I’m lucky
Because even if I cry, no one would know”
-Whalien 52

-“Never be late to do what you wanna do right now
Because at one point of someday,
Everything you did
Would be exactly what you will be” -

-”Thank you for letting me be me
For helping me fly
For giving me wings
For straightening me out
For waking me from being suffocated
For waking me from a dream which was all I was living in" -SAVE ME

-”I just wanted to succeed
the words I tediously heard from others were only that
I thought I could catch the mirage known as happiness
but the me in front of my desk wasn’t happy even for a moment
Without my mom knowing, I put a sheet of white paper between the pages of my workbook
My identity that I wrote down matched to the drum and bass”

-“The grown-ups confess
That we have it so easy
They say that we are happier than our portion
Then how do you explain my unhappiness?
There’s no conversation topics beside studying
Outside, there are so many kids like me,
Living the life of a puppet
Who will take responsibility?”

-”Life isn’t about living along but living through
As you live through, you’ll disappear some day
If you keep spacing out, you’ll be swept away,
if you ain’t no got the guts, trust”

-”I empty my drink but it gets filled with loneliness […]
All I did was color you in my white, blank paper
But then I realized, it already became a finished picture”
-Hold me tight

-”Hey you, who’s looking over the Han River
If we bump into each other while passing, would it be fate?
Or maybe we bumped into each other in our past life
Maybe we bumped into each other countless times”

-”My mother said the sea is blue
She said to let out your voice as far as you can
But what to do, it’s so dark and there are only different whales
speaking entirely different words”
-Whalien 52

-”The media and adults say we don’t have willpower
condemning us like stocks
Why are they killing us before we can even try
Why are you hanging your head and accepting it already?” -Dope

-”Life is more beautiful knowing that we’ve taken a loan on death
Even light is treasured more when there’s darkness
The sunshine appears after we’ve passed through the storm”

-”Let’s be happy, let’s be happy
Even if we live with these heavy words in our mouths every day
To be honest, I still don’t know
Why am I often lonely”

-“I’m living to understand the world, 
But why hasn’t this world tried to understand me”

-”Back then I thought this was a big place
But my ambition grew too big
That big house became too small now”

-“In the darkness,
People look happier than the day
Everyone else knows where they’re supposed to be
But only I walk without purpose”

-”Outside was a whole battlefield so I bring out the chopper
Every night inside me I quietly fight with myself
My heart pounds, my colleagues stab me in the back
While saying that I became a moron after joining a company”

-”It’s just one life
Who are you living for?
My heart stopped when I was nine or ten
Put your hand on your heart
and ask what you dream was
What is really was”

*This was Sarah for you daily Namnam appreciation

(cred to Lynn and papercrowns!)

At the moment, there is nothing I crave more than to travel. And the desire to see the different parts of our planet actually causes me a physical pain in my chest
It doesn’t even has to be the world, just crossing a few borders around and seek for adventures would be enough.
I want to spend a late afternoon at Montmartre in Paris, with the sun rich and heavy, admiring the art of unknown artists and re-reading Patrick Süskind’s “Perfume”, sitting on the steps in front of Sacré-Cœur and taking in the sight of the city as a whole.
I want to go back to London to sit at Trafalgar Square and listen to the best street band I have ever seen, to spend hours and hours at Camden Market and find beautiful vinyls in old record stores.
Let me visit Amsterdam another time because my heart will never grow tired of this place with its canals that resemble a net of veins, pumping art through the whole city.
I want to spend more hours at the Van Gogh Museum, sitting in front of the Almond Blossoms and getting inspired.
But most of all, more than anything, I want be by the sea, breathing in the heavy scent of salty water and wet sand, reading crime novels and writing poetry, the infinity of the ocean reminding my that I am, in fact, free.
That somehow, my wish to travel and escape everything else will always work out in the end.
—  // in my native language, there is the bitter sweet word “Fernweh” which does not have an English translation but means something like “distance pain” and (metaphorically) describes that almost painful feeling in your chest when you think of all the places you want to visit or just generally feel the desire to travel

Request: Hi! Would it okay to make a request? Ivar x Reader have a really nasty argument right before Ivar has to sail away for a raid or something which leads to make up sex when he gets back? Sorry! I really adore you Ivar x Reader’s!

Note: The argument got a little more intense then I had intended when I started this. I hope you still like it, nony.

Warning: Contains rough smut and some violence.


“This is delicious.“  Ivar said, mouth still full of food. “Did you cook it or the slaves?”

You smiled at him. “I did. I don’t need any slaves to take care of me.”

“And you think I do?” He replied with grin.

“Well, I don’t know. Do you, son of Ragnar Lothbrok, prince of Kattegat?”

“Of course not. I just prefer not to waste time on cooking and such things. And you make it sound like I was sitting on a throne all day long, having servants tending to all my wishes.”

“Is that not what you do?” You said, giving him a mischievous grin from across the table.

He groaned and threw one of his potatoes at you. “Shut up!”

You ducked under the flying potato. “I’m just worried that no one will feed you the next few weeks.”

“Then maybe you should change your mind and come with me.”

Your grin faded and you got serious. “You know there’s nothing I want more but my father has gotten so sick and since mother died there’s no one else to take care of him.”

“I know. But I will miss you.”

You reached across the table and put your hand on his cheek. “Promise me you’ll come back to me.”

He placed his hand on yours. “Always.”

You smiled at each other and you got lost in his mesmerizing blue eyes, like you had so many times in the past.

After a while Ivar broke the silence. “Speaking of coming back, where have you been all day? I’ve been looking for you and then I saw you coming out of the forest.”

“I’ve been helping your brother.”

“Which brother?” He asked and you did not miss a certain sharpness in his voice.


“Why are you spending so much time with Ubbe recently?” He wanted to know, his tone now clearly annoyed.

You rolled your eyes. Ivar could be so loving and caring when he wanted to but sometimes he acted like a child, especially when he was jealous of his brothers.

“He is building a house for himself and Margrethe, so I figured he could use some help.” You replied, unable to hide an unnerved undertone.

“If you help him with his house then what have you been doing in the forest?”

“We’ve been cutting trees.”

“And was Margrethe also there?”

“No she wasn’t. She had other stuff to do. What are all these questions?” You were starting to lose your patience.

Ivar’s eyes narrowed. “So you’ve spend the whole day in the forest, alone with my brother. And you want me to believe you’ve been cutting trees?”

“What else would we’ve been doing, Ivar? Hmm? You tell me.” Your voice coming out louder and more angry than you had intended.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.” He replied, his voice seeming completely calm, but you knew him well enough to know that it was very likely just the quiet before the storm. But you could not care for that now because your own anger was starting to cloud your mind. How could he dare to accuse you of such things?

“You know what, Ivar? Think whatever you want. I’m tired of your mood changing from one second to the next for no reason. If you want to go ahead and play the spoiled little prince that’s fine, but do it with someone else because I’m really tired of it.”

You saw Ivar’s eyes become dark with anger and immediately regretted your words but it was too late to take them back.

Ivar leaned over the table. “You are mine. You better don’t forget that.” He hissed.

You also leaned forward so that your face was just inches from his. His jaw was clenched and his eyes dark like the stormy sea. He radiated such anger that it scared you a bit, but you were a Viking, you were taught to never let your fear show.

“I don’t belong to anyone. You better don’t forget that.” You spat, echoing his words.

You could see him clenching his jaw even harder and releasing a stiff breath, fighting to keep control over himself. He seemed to have lost that battle because the next moment his arm shot towards you and before you could react his hand closed around your throat.

“You are mine.” He repeated, voice shaking with anger.

You tried to move away from him but his fingers were digging into the sides of your neck, giving you no chance to escape. Your air stream was completely blocked and your hands clutched around his, trying to open his grip but he was way too strong for you. As little shadows began to dance in front of your eyes you started to panic, your body demanding the air he was no longer able to get. As you let out a strangled noise, Ivar’s anger twisted face changed into a look of utter shock. It was as if he was waking up. He stared at your face, then down to his hand on your throat and very slowly his grip softened. He let go of you completely and quickly withdraw his hand as if he had burned it, his face now full of terror.

“Y/N, I….”

As the fear left your body the anger came back.

“Get out of here.” You hissed, your voice raspy, the words burning in your throat.



You had made sure he had no chance of seeing you again until he left the next morning with his warriors. You knew that Ivar had moments like this, when his anger took over and he completely lost control, you had seen it happen more then once. But so far it had never happened with you. You had trusted him, felt completely save in his presence. You knew it was stupid but there was a feeling of betrayal inside you, you couldn’t get rid of. Of course you’ve had arguments before, the kind of arguments that made everyone else flee out of the room, not wanting to become casualties while you two released earthquakes and thunderstorms. But he had never hurt or really scared you before. And now you weren’t sure if you could forgive him.

But as the weeks passed you had to admit to yourself that you missed Ivar. You were worried about him, even more than usual. If something happened to him, your last conversation would have been the worst argument you ever had.

One evening you were sitting in your hut, taking out your braids and humming some melody that was stuck in your head as you heard a noise behind you. You turned in your chair and your eyes grew wide in surprise. Ivar was leaning against the door frame, supported by his crutches. You hadn’t heard him open the door. Your first impulse was to run to him and sink into his arms but you still  weren’t sure if you had forgiven him. It took you all your inner strength to keep any emotion from your face as you looked at him. He had a crooked grin on his face but as you didn’t react at all and just kept looking at him, you could see some insecurity grow in his eyes. After a moment though, he gained back control and his grin only grew wider.

“Are you not going to ask me in?”

“Where’s the point when you are in already?” You replied, struggling to keep your voice neutral. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“We just arrived about half an hour ago.” He slowly crossed the room and stopped in front of your bed. “Come here. I’ve missed you.”

Your eyes narrowed. You couldn’t believe he could be so ignorant. “Don’t think you can command me to do anything!”

His grin came back to his face, just a hint of evil arrogance in it. “But you want to. I can see it in your eyes.”

He was right. Although you were still mad at him your body longed for his. You wanted nothing more than to feel his skin on yours, to be as close to him as you could possibly get. It made you angry that he had such an effect on you. And it made you even angrier that he knew it and that he knew how to use it against you. You stood up so fast that your chair toppled over. You went over to Ivar and stood in front of him, eyes blazing with anger.

“Don’t you dare to tell me what I want.”

His grin didn’t fade one bit. “Not even when it’s that obvious? You want me, Y/N. There’s no point in denying that.”

You hated him so much that moment, mostly for being right. You somehow had to let your anger vent and pushed against his chest with both hands, harder than you had intended to. Ivar lost his balance and as he fell backwards he let go of his crutches and grabbed your arms, pulling you down with him. You heard the crutches clatter on the floor as you fell down on the bed. Ivar quickly rolled over so that he was on top of you.

“Get off me!” You hissed and pushed against his chest.

Ivar just smirked at you and caught your wrists, pinning them to the bed above your head. Then he moved his hips so that they rocked against yours. You could feel heat shoot through your body like liquid fire and fought hard to suppress a moan. But Ivar didn’t stop, he kept grinding his hips against yours and the need to feel more of him grew bigger and bigger inside your stomach, causing your breathing to come quick and heavy.

He chuckled at you. “See? So stop struggling and let me give you what you want anyways.”

You gave him an angry hiss but had to admit defeat. He must have seen it in your eyes and placed his lips on yours, kissing you hungrily while one of his hands slid under your dress and up your thigh. He let his fingers slowly travel across your folds and gave you an satisfied yet amused grin as he found you already soaking wet. Then his lips were back on yours and he slipped one finger between your folds. You moaned into his mouth as he started to move it up and down, hitting your clit with every move. His other hand found one of your breasts and started to knead it but he quickly became annoyed by the fabric getting in his way and he retrieved his hand from between your thighs. You whimpered at the loss and he smirked, clearly pleased with himself. For a moment he fiddled with the stings that held your dress together, but soon lost his patience and just ripped it apart. He hurried to slide the fabric down your body and then discarded it to the floor. He quickly undressed himself and you took a moment to cherish the view. You adored the way the toned muscles on his shoulders and his chest worked as he moved back up to you.

“You still want me to leave?” He asked with a cocky grin.

“No.” You admitted.

“What do you want me to do then?”

You smiled and lifted your head from the pillow to kiss him again but he pushed you back down, pinning you to the bed with his body. He rocked his hips again and now that you where both naked you could feel his hard cock rub against your thigh. You sighed, half in anticipation and half in defeat. You knew he wouldn’t stop until you said it out loud.

“I want you to fuck me.”

He gave you a nod as if to say See, it wasn’t that hard. Then he pushed your thighs apart to get better access. He was hovering over you, still pinning you to the bed, not allowing you much movement. He looked down at you and pushed himself inside you with one swift movement. You gasped at the exquisite sensation of him stretching your inner walls and your eyes flew shut. Ivar leaned down and bit your shoulder.

“Keep looking at me.” He cooed.

As you opened your eyes he started to move in and out of you. He didn’t bother to go slow and picked up his pace quite quickly, his trusts fast and hard. It didn’t take long until you squirmed in pleasure but he didn’t give you much room to move, his strong arms keeping you in place and reminding you who was is control. You wrapped your legs around his waist to allow him to go even deeper. As a reward he placed a sloppy kiss on your lips. As your pleasure increases you grind your hips against his, eager to meet his thrusts, while you loudly moan out his name. Ivar places one of his hands on the head of the bed to be able to push himself into your depths with even more force than before. With every thrust he hits a magical spot deep inside of you and you scream out his name so loud you probably wake up all your neighbors.

“You know you are mine.” Ivar growls without stopping his brilliant movements and in this moment you have neither the strength nor the will to disagree.

“Yes Ivar, I’m all yours.” You pant and smirks, even increasing his efforts to make you scream out his name.

You know you are close as you feel your whole body tense. And with one forceful thrust Ivar buries himself deep inside you and spills his hot liquids. The feel of Ivar’s seed filling you is enough to drive you over the edge. Waves of pleasure are rolling through you and your whole body is shaking. You ride out your orgasms together and then Ivar collapses onto you. For a long moment you just lie still. Both of you unable to move, bodies sticky with sweat.

As your breathing slows down a bit, Ivar rolls off of you and pulls you into his arms.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He says, placing a kiss on your temple.

All you can manage is to hum in agreement, as you settle your head against his shoulder and close your eyes.

“Don’t fall asleep.” Ivar whispers into your ear. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Distance can make you feel all different types of emotions. I don’t think i ever felt so hurt yet so numb at the same time. I can be emotionless and distant in the morning and by night time I’m crying myself to sleep from missing him so much. I’m tired, tired all the time. Tired from being away from him, tired from missing him, tired from staying up late at night, tired from constantly worrying about him, tired from this loneliness, tired of feeling hot and cold about this whole situation. I’m with him but it’s as if I’m not with him,.i have him but it feels like I don’t. It’s kind of sad when you get use to it, use to not having that person around, use to not talking to them for days and finally when you think you are used to walking around like an empty shell, you get to see them, and they spark everything up 10x more then before and the world is no longer gray but different shades of colors..but once again you are forced to say goodbye and this time the pain is far more worse than it was last time. But you know in the end it’s worth it. Everything you’ve been through for them, is worth it.

You know, I really love the Pirates of the Caribbean world. I love the magic, the voodoo and curses being sea-themed, the sea creatures and I love the characters too. 

But stars am I sick of the stories. I don’t want Jack and a girl/boy lovestory happening because shenanigans. I am tired of some guy who we never heard before coming to get Jack because Jack was an ass to him in the past. 

I know this movie will be the last (according to the trailers for the 5th movie) but you know what kind of stuff I would have loved to see? 

  • sea creatures becoming more of a threat since Calypso is free again (Jack goes to find the (former) Priest and his mermaid (now wife) who help him find Calypso so he can talk to her)
  • someone took Barbossa’s old treasure to become the powerful undead ruler of the seas (classic Disney Villains, hmmm, I miss those) (Barbossa and Jack are once again required to work together, lots of quality banter happens while chasing a villain who pisses them both off)
  • Jack’s dad vanishes and with him the pirate codex (personal conflict for Jack that might give us character development and some more insight on how Jack became who he is today)
  • Angelica uses the voodoo doll of Jack that she still has in some way that gets Jack in a huge amount of trouble. (SERIOUSLY HAVE WE FORGOTTEN THAT SHE STILL HAS THAT THING?) 
  • Elizabeth becoming a pirate herself because she and her son are tired of waiting 10 years to see Will for only a day. (Elizabeth needs to find a ship that can keep up with the Flying Dutchman so she can sail with Will. Maybe their son somehow becomes Jack’s best friend? Someone who knows what to expect from Jack from his mother’s stories? And who is perfectly able to kick Jack’s ass if needed.)

Those are just some ideas and personally would have loved to see either of them as a movie. But no, we are stuck on repeat with the plot of the first movie until the end. :/


(via National Geographic (@natgeo) • Instagram photos and videos)

Photo by @FransLanting Young albatrosses take many months to mature before they’re ready to take flight and head off to sea. These black-browed albatross chicks have a long way to go before they can lift their wings and become the supreme flyers sailors have admired for centuries. They’re all sitting on mud nests built by their parents, who are searching the open ocean for squid to take back to their downy offspring in the Falkland Islands. I love albatrosses! To me they are among the most amazing creatures on the planet. I never get tired of watching them and photographing them. Follow me @FransLanting for more images and stories from the Southern Ocean.

draw team half elf with brown skin 

By the Sea

By the Sea

Rating : T

My deepets thanks to @akai-echo for her gorgeous banner and to @titaniasfics for the betaing.

I stay, watching the incessant rhythm of the waves.

They come near me, dying on the sand, broken in white foam, trying to reach my bare feet.

I don’t move.

I can taste the salt on my lips, echoing the tears at the corner of my eyes.

I’m crouching, watching the water come and go, an eternal renewal.

They never tire, the waves, they still try to reach the higher grounds, still try to get over the beach, over the sand, over the dunes, still try to get to the earth behind.

Or maybe, they don’t.

Maybe, they like this never ending dance with the rocks, passing over them, until grain after grain, it becomes sand.

I don’t know.

I don’t know if the sand my toes are touching is only sand, or if it’s mixed with the ashes of my family.

I put my right hand into the sand, just to feel it. Feel.

The seagulls sing their melancholic ballad to the clouds, trying to make the sun come out.

They won’t succeed.

Today is for mourning. It’s been four years.

The cold of the wind tries to break through my scarf, my coat, tries to get to me.

I only allow him to play with my hair - like when I was a little girl.

But I’m a woman now.

Today is for mourning.

Tomorrow will be for celebrating.

I clutch the dandelion Peeta gave me a couple of minutes ago in my left hand. I know he’s waiting for me, even though I told him not to.

Because that’s who he is.


When more time has gone, I finally stand.

Today is for mourning, today is for the gray skies, for the salt on my cheeks.

But only today.

Tomorrow, even if the sky is cloudy, even if the rain falls, we’ll celebrate life.

Tomorrow and every day after.



6 | Save Me


word count: 3,325 eyyyy

warnings: violence, gore probably smut at some point I mean it’s me we’re talking about, dead bodies, non-con etc. very mature themes. this chapter has mentions of bruises

Originally posted by annabartollo

masterlist | ask | prev | next

“To protect you.”

It had been four days since he’d found you at the abandoned apartment, he always insisted on going out and buying the pair of you takeout alone so you didn’t have to leave the building. Just incase. The two of you had shared a kitchen, a bathroom, and a living room with no arguments. Being a true gentleman he insisted on taking the sofa while you had the bedroom to yourself. He never got in your way and you never got in his.
Admittedly you did feel safer with him around, though you still couldn’t wrap your head around why he’d left gang Bangtan in the first place. He had a pretty good life there, even if he was technically a murderer and a sketchy gang member. Why did he give up all of that to just protect you?

A small knock on the bedroom door disturbed your slumber, you’d gone for a nap at 3 o'clock because you found it easier to sleep in the day time. You stirred underneath the red covers until you found the energy to speak,

“Mmm?” You groaned, your voice still weighed down with sleep,

“I need to go sort something out, you okay here by yourself for a little while?” He opened the door and leaned against the wooden frame as he spoke, his voice was deep and croaky, suggesting he’d also just woken up from a nap,

“What time is it?” You sat up in bed, glancing over at the tall frame in the doorway,

Keep reading

She Said II (She Sighed)

Sorrow stopped by once again
I asked her why she’d stolen my smile

She sighed, you still don’t understand
sit with me dear child for a little while

Do you remember those darkest days
somehow you always made it through

And even as you felt so terribly alone
was I not always there with you

I see a heart grown tired with regret 
you fear this game has neared its end 

Yet every ending is but a new beginning
and I’ll be with you as your loving friend

One day dear child you shall awaken
though today you’re crying in your sleep

Believe with me that only love is real
soon now no more ever will you weep

She then held me closely one more time
while through my sea of tears I smiled

She said I am love as well as sorrow 
and I’ll never abandon you my dear child

they don’t tell the tale of icarus like a love story, but i like to think that apollo reached out his golden hand to his mortal lover, and it was the love burning beneath his flesh that entombed icarus to the only place apollo could never follow: the sea.

and i like to think that apollo screamed his lungs raw into the vast emptiness of the universe, and that his anguish birthed millions of new stars, explosions of unexpected death birthing unexpected life in return.

they don't tell the tale of icarus like a love story, but i look up at the sky and see galaxies of unfailing light, histories of the universe carved into the dark ink of a space i have never known. i am just a child built of aching bones and tired eyes.

but i was born into a galaxy that was forged from untouchable cemeteries and half-finished love stories. i have an ocean of hurt in my veins. i am built of tragedy and catastrophe.

but i look up at the sky and see stars that were created in the midst of unspeakable loss. and i am reminded that i will survive, too. just look at the sun; apollo still breathes, even though it hurts.

—  i’m rewriting this tragedy // (h.q.)
Intention - Shay Cormac x Fem!Reader (Part 1)

A/N: I’m pretty sure this was a request from @bunnyyumyum (you probably don’t remember sending it…it took me forever to get to and I’m sorry )about Templar!reader leaving England for America and joining the Colonial Rite. Shay shows her around NY and ends up catching feelings…but reader is not going to make it easy as you’ll see in this first part.

I’m not very confident about this one but maybe you’ll all like it more than I do.

Also this was supposed to be out for Shay Patrick’s Day but I suck and its late.

Words: 3,171
Warnings: None. Unless you need a warning for a very drunk and flirty Hickey lol.

This was the hundredth time in a few weeks that you had regretted getting on this ship to New York. Another stormy night had you holding on for dear life and trying to keep your dinner down.

Keep reading

Bedtime Story - Phanfic

“Papa, we’ve already read that one.”

Dan smirked to himself as he listened in on Phil’s conversation with their four-year-old daughter, Juniper. He was sitting in the lounge editing a gaming video, a bag of crisps wedged between his thighs. He had stopped crunching on the crisps now though, and had one earbud out to be able to hear his husband and daughter’s conversation. “Right. Okay. Well, what about this one?” There was a pause. “No?” It sounds like they’re going to have to buy more children’s books.

Getting adjusted to parenthood had not been easy for either of them. Juniper was fussy when she was an infant, and they had had long sleepless nights staying awake together and taking turns holding her. The fans gave both of them more slack than they did before they had Juniper, because it was hard to run a bunch of YouTube channels and look after a child as well. Now that their surrogate was pregnant with their second child, it was important to both of them that they spend as much time with Juniper as they can.

Keep reading

the edge of the unthinkable

basically what would have happened if chapter 61 was the other way round // seeing as it’s snowbaz’s anniversary I felt I should write something. It’s a bit of a mess but I hope you enjoy :) 

I’ve always thought myself intelligent, but at this moment in time I’m about as dense as Simon Snow.

Bloody Snow. He’s all bones and curls and constellations of freckles.

Impossibly beautiful, even with that wild, distraught look in his eyes.

I don’t know why I’ve followed him here (probably because I’m in love with him). I still don’t know what he’s doing, apart from the fact that I don’t like the look of the cliff behind him.

“Snow – ” I venture, not expecting to be able to finish my sentence, waiting for him to interrupt me like we’ve been doing to eachother for years.

(At this point I want to just let him. I want to roll over and surrender and just let him win).

His eyes are glittering, their normal everyday blue reduced to flames of pain and hurt. “Fuck off, Baz!”

He’s too close to the edge of the cliff, too close to the unthinkable, and I wish yet again that we had never come here, never chose to try and find out the truth about Simon’s mother. I wish that she had never come through the veil in the first place, even if it means I’m closer to Snow now than I ever thought I would be. (Still enemies. But that’s not going to change).

“Si – Snow, calm down. You’re behaving like an idiot.”

“You don’t understand!” he practically howls, his magic fizzing and churning in the air, so thick I can taste it. “I killed her, Baz! She died because I was born!” He takes a step back and I want to scream at him, pin him down so he stops moving so he can’t do anything stupid.

“Snow.” I try to keep my voice calm; it’s swallowed by the wind and the force of his magic. “Get away from the cliff.”

“You don’t understand.” His voice is a broken whisper. His heels brush the thin air while the sea churns below.

“Lucy loved you!” I yell over the wind. “She called you her ‘rosebud boy’.”

Blue eyes, bronze curls. An outline drawn with shaky hands and watercolour paint.

I hate that I love him.

“This is what I deserve.” A small, broken smile plays across the shattered hurt of his face, his eyes pools of pain.

And he turns towards the empty air. Towards the edge of nothing and the boiling, churning sea below.

And the world falls in on itself like a dying star, because, let’s face it – Simon Snow is a supernova, the centre of the universe. Without him, there is only oblivion.

He is infinity, and he thinks he is a monster.

Simon!” His name is torn from me and hangs, raw and desperate, in the air. Before I can think about it, my wand is in my hand and pointing at him.

Make a wish!” I scream. Simon seems to stumble, as if hooked in the air.

Time stops.

And my hand is reaching for him, grasping the back of his jacket and pulling him towards me, away from the endless drop, away from the unthinkable.

“This isn’t what I deserve,” I hiss as I drag him away, my arms around his chest. He collapses on top of me, a shaking, sobbing mess of curls and freckles and tear-streaked cheeks.

“Snow.” I whisper. My hand traces his back, gently, awkwardly. The boy I love is in my arms, but, God, I wish he wasn’t.

Not like this.

Never like this.

“You idiot,” I mutter as he sobs into my shoulder. He finally looks up, his ordinary blue eyes red and dull with grief for the mother he never got to know. “I killed her, Baz.”

I grasp his shoulders, angry now. “Simon Snow, you are a fool. You didn’t kill her. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m a monster.”

“You’re beautiful.” The words slip out in a long-withheld torrent. “You – you’re the centre of the universe. “

And then, because I’m weak. Because the I want to hold him and keep him safe forever. Because I’m tired of pretending for years.

“For fucks sake, I love you. God knows I wish I didn’t. But I do. Hopelessly. Simon-”

And then he kisses me.


I still dream about it sometimes. The cliff and the sea and how close I was to losing him.

But I always wake up, and he’s there. Simon Snow, all sunlight skin and golden curls and constellations of freckles.

Every morning I wake up to the boy I love in my arms, and this time, it’s perfect.

The Truth Hurts

Pairing: King George x Reader

Word Count: 1761

Warnings: None

Summary: You are disgusted by the King’s actions, but once you meet him it is clear he is not as terrible as you believe.

You had heard all the rumors countless times. Down the streets of Britain King George III’s letter to the colonies was being read and analyzed.

The man was merciless. He threatens to kill those who do not follow him and when you read a publication of his letter you rip it into several pieces and throw it in the garbage.

How can a man who wants to lead possibly think threatening those who are leaving with death is going to resolve anything?

He was despicable, cold- hearted, and the worst kind of a person.

Fuming with the thoughts of the King’s letter, you manage to completely forget to look where you’re heading and clumsily knock into someone in front of you.

“Oh I am so sorry. I wasn’t looking. Are you alright?” The man in front of you says.

You of course are very confused because you were sure you were the one who wasn’t paying attention.

“No it was entirely my fault.” You manage to utter out.

He is taller than you but not by much. His hair is a dirty ash blonde and his eyes are the color of the Atlantic ocean. He gives a small smile.

“My name is George. May I ask yours?” He holds out his hand and you stare for a moment. The thoughts of the King are pushed aside momentarily as you place your hand in his. A gentle kiss is placed on your knuckle and you smile at him.

“Y/N. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure is all mine, surely.” He squeezes your hand before letting go.

“What are you doing this fine day?” He asks. He is dressed as if he has money, but not necessarily as much if he was in a predominant family. He had not told you his last name and while that stuck with you, his question brought a bitter taste to your mouth.

“Reading the King’s letter to the colonies.”

His face changes and it almost seems as if he is pouting.

“Really? It displeases you?”

“The man threatened to kill everyone over there if they did not yield to him. Yes it is displeasing.”

His look grows into a deeper configuration of sullen disappointment.

“He was in a tough position. Those colonists were being unreasonable.” His voice is louder than before.

“I mean I understand he does not want a rebellion. However, the tactics to which he tries to prevent one from occurring are completely ridiculous. You do not fight fire with fire.”

“Well if fire is what the colonists want…” You glare at him.

His face softens a little.

“Well, I’m sure he has thought about the many different responses he could have sent.”

“Well he certainly could have chosen a more suitable warning that did not include death threats.”

The conversation seemed to take a turn into a debate. You awaited George’s reply.

“You may be right. Perhaps he could have said something a bit more civil. War is messy. I do believe it will come to that either way.”

“Maybe so. The colonists shouldn’t be so eager to leave. But he should not underestimate how they will respond to such a letter.” 

He takes this time to scan you.

“The war is imminent. The King knows this.”

You search his features while you state the next opinion.

“We wouldn’t even be in this place if the King hadn’t pushed the colonists to the edge with his overtaxing and taunts.”

Now he looks upset. Visibly his face turns red and his hands become tight fists.

“You have no idea what kind of pressure the King is going through with this whole rebellion mess!” He huffs and if he wasn’t on the smaller side he would have actually frightened you.

“Of course I don’t! Neither do you. The colonists are pushing back from his initial shove. If he just compromised with them in the first place or stopped raising their taxes maybe they wouldn’t be so inclined to rebel.”

He looks as if he is about to implode. You would have the luck of running into a charming man who turns out to be a die-hard loyalist. Not that you weren’t loyal, but you weren’t blinded by the illusion of the King’s political fallacies.

“The King does not need to explain his actions of taxation. He must use it for the good of Britain.” He crosses his arms and sits on a nearby bench. He looks like child throwing a tantrum.

You can’t help but let out a long laugh at the sight of this grown man acing so childish and defending someone he couldn’t even possibly know.

“What are you laughing at?” George snaps without moving from his defensive position.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous? How can you even say- You’re bad-mouthing our King!”

“Hardly. I am merely stating my opinion as a subject in his kingdom. The way many feel these days about him. I do not mean to offend.”

His arm cross and he relaxes a bit.

“People have been upset about the handling of the rebellious colonists? What do they say?”

You take a seat as far away from George as possible.

“What I have already told you. His actions are part of the reason the colonists have decided to rebel. Honestly, do you not go out much?”

He runs his hands through his hair and then drags them down his face despairingly.

“No I guess I do not. At least not long enough to hear the gossip.”

His entire demeanor is entertaining. His dramatic outbursts in conversation were unlike anyone else you’d met.

“So the King has his faults. That does not mean the colonists had to answer with impending war.” His arms are crossed yet again and it takes all of you to not groan in response. Instead you just set your jaw and stay silent. Better to not react to his theatrics.

“Look, I am not saying the King is evil. I do not believe that. What I do believe is we are in a very precarious position with the colonists and the way the King is responding is not helping either way. The war is coming, everything has led us to this point. Now it is just the matter of how serious he takes it.”

His arms do not uncross this time and he lets out a frustrated sigh.

“I’m sure he takes it very seriously. Even when he sends antagonizing letters to rebels.”

“I am personally not entirely comfortable with the lack of assurance to us here in England of how the war is going to affect subjects living on this side of the war.”

He scoots closer to you on the bench but is still at arms length.

“He’s the King. Of course he will protect his subjects. That is the reasoning behind his threats in the first place. With rebellion comes uncertainty. Uncertainty means he cannot protect those subjects he has sworn to keep safe, especially when they are across a sea.”

You had never thought of it that way. The King pushes back because he is afraid he cannot protect his citizens. It wasn’t a completely insane insight.

“Is war really the best way to protect them?” You ask. George has finally relaxed or become tired enough that his theatrics have ceased.

“No. It isn’t. He doesn’t seem to have a choice now though, does he?” His exasperated look seems to pierce through you.

“No he doesn’t.”

“What am I going to do?”

When he inquires this you are shocked. He just asked you what to do like you have any political say in the matter. He also just used ‘I’ and you’re not entirely sure why. since you two were talking of the King and not himself.

“Well, I presume all he can do is try to win the war and try to have the least amount of casualties on either side as possible.”

“All I wanted was to extend our land, to gather more resources and improve the population surges. Yet now none of that is possible. I cannot allow the colonists to rebel. It would certainly bring my political influence down. I cannot compromise either, they are set on being their own nation…”

About halfway through his ranting you realize who you are talking to. His isn’t wearing his standard white wig, a crown or any lavish robes. King George III has been next to you for the last hour. You just had a heated debate with the King of England. All the color drains from your face.

He was still talking but you had missed the last minute of it while trying to think of a way to make up for everything you had just said as you really didn’t wanted to be executed for treason. After all you just told the King that he was ridiculous and he was basically a jerk. You don’t realize you are in a trance until the King’s hand waves in front of your face.

“Y/N? Are you listening? Look after everything you said you could at least listen to my plans and-”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said.” You squeak out an apology hoping he will at least spare your life.
“What are you talking about? You were right. I mean about some of it, not all of it. I can’t agree about everything of course.”

“Please, can we just pretend I didn’t say anything.” You finally make eye contact with him and he realizes why you are panicking.

“Really? You think I would punish you for being one of the only people who has ever been completely honest with me? Do you think I’m a monster?”

“No of course not, but you are the King and I just said not-so pleasant opinions about you to your face. It is practically treason.”

He takes your hand in his.

“Perhaps. However, I did not intend for you to think you couldn’t speak your mind. That is why I did not inform you of who I was by title.”

He is still holding your hand and you take it back slowly.

“So, you’re not going to kill me for what I said.”

His melodramatics return.

“No! Now who is being ridiculous? Killing someone just because they speak with me is insane.” His arms are flailing and he quickly stands from the bench.

“Alright. Does this mean I can tell you more of what I think about your decisions?”

His face is priceless.

“There’s more?!”

“You have no idea.”


ice caps
      slowly into the sea

my love
 is poison
  it makes
   everyone sick

the sun
      scorching the earth

my soul
 is rotten
  it drives
   everyone away

the animals
      their cages to devour us

my heart
 is defective
  it makes
   everyone tired

the world
      dying of a great sickness

she was everything
i was just never enough

Vox Machina as Lines of Poetry

“How many times have my men,  
sworn to stay after dark
And stem that horror with a sweep of their swords.
And then, in the morning, this mead-hall glittering
With new light would be drenched with blood, the benches
Stained red, the floors, all wet from that fiend’s
Savage assault-and my soldiers would be fewer
Still death taking more and more.”

“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.”
-Wild Geese, Mary Oliver

“They say you are made of clouds, they say you
are made of feathers, they say you are everywhere
or nowhere—we know you are both.”
-If This is Your Final Destination, Nick Flynn

“the last tribute of a daughter, I thought of something
I remembered
I heard once, that the body is, or is
said to be, almost all
water and as I turned southward, that ours is
a city of it,
one in which
every single day the elements begin
a journey towards each other that will never,
given our weather,
-And Soul, Eavan Boland

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!“
-The New Colossus, Emma Lazarus

“Wild Nights – Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile – the winds –
To a heart in port –
Done with the compass –
Done with the chart!

Rowing in Eden –
Ah, the sea!
Might I moor – Tonight –
In thee!”
-Wild Nights (249), Emily Dickinson

“No, no, not that,—it’s bad to think of war,
When thoughts you’ve gagged all day come back to scare you;
And it’s been proved that soldiers don’t go mad
Unless they lose control of ugly thoughts
That drive them out to jabber among the trees.”
-Repression of War Experience, Siegfried Sassoon

“My petty greed has often been met
by petty donors
Twice or so I was saved
by the God on my shelf
After safe escape I gave a smirk.”
-My Petty Greed, Choudhuri Sukumar

“Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, –and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of –Wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air…
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark or even eagle flew –”
-High Flight, John Magee

“No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.”
-The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S Eliot

“[Animals] do not sweat and whine about their condition, 
They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, 
They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, 
Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things, 
Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago, 
Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.”
-Song of Myself, Walt Whitman

Vox Machina
“The anguish of the earth absolves our eyes
Till beauty shines in all that we can see.
War is our scourge; yet war has made us wise,
And, fighting for our freedom, we are free.

Horror of wounds and anger at the foe,
And loss of things desired; all these must pass.
We are the happy legion, for we know
Time’s but a golden wind that shakes the grass.

There was an hour when we were loth to part
From life we longed to share no less than others.
Now, having claimed this heritage of heart,
What need we more, my comrades and my brothers?”
-Absolution, Siegfried Sassoon


“i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)”
-[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in], E.E. Cummings

“She took my head between her fingers,
squeezing till the birds began to stir.
And then from out my eyes and ears
a flock came forth — I couldn’t think or hear
or breathe or see within that feather-world
so silently I thanked her.”
-After the Disaster, Abigail Deutsch

“My darling turns to poetry at night.
What began as flirtation, an aside
Between abstract expression and first light

Now finds form as a silent, startled flight
Of commas on her face — a breath, a word …    
My darling turns to poetry at night.”
-Darling Turns to Poetry at Night, Anthony Lawrence

“Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.”
-Seperation, M.S. Merwin

“I have to tell you,
there are times when
the sun strikes me
like a gong,
and I remember everything,
even your ears.”
-I Have To Tell You, Dorothea Grossman