mirror with a memory

**Edited and added, since now I can say it without crying.*

My Dad committed suicide on January 13, 2013. He suffered from depression for 10 years, and I was lucky to have him around as long as I did. In his honor I got the last thing he wrote to me on my bicep in his handwriting in blue ink, his favorite color. I’ll miss him forever, and now I’ll have a reminder that he loves me every time I look in the mirror. 

Journal Prompts

figured i’d take a stab at making some prompts. Tag me if you use them!! I wanna see what you make :>>>

1. Pick a year, maybe the year you/your friend/your crush was born. Find out important things that happened that year. The top song played on the radio, the movie that won at the oscars, any notable inventions? 

2. Pick a color. Do everything in that color. Try different shades of the same color, or do it all in one shade for hard mode

3. Draw a self portrait without looking at yourself on one page, and another one while seeing your reflection/a picture of yourself

4. Make a playlist of your current favorite songs / use their lyrics 

5. What’s your favorite room? Your bedroom, a class room? Why do you like it? What’s in it? Draw it. 

6. draw an alternative world. Maybe it’s the same as our current word but some people have horns? Maybe it’s a world entirely encompassed in an hourglass? 

7. Are you superstitious? If yes, write/draw about you biggest superstition. If no, write/draw about one that interests you. 

8. Where would you go on a roadtrip? Write/draw about the locations you’d love to see.

9. Write/draw about how you feel at 3am. 

10. Whats your first ever memory?

11. Sit in front of a mirror and make 5 funny faces and draw yourself. 

12. Write / draw your favorite myth. 

13. Draw your hands 

14. Collect all the ‘left over’ bits for a week: receipts, fruit stickers, notes, wrappers. Then make a journal page out of them. 

15. Print out one of your favorite poems. Cut each word out and rearrange it. It probably wont make any sense but it will still somehow feel like your favorite poem. 

okay, but angels

angels seeking their siblings, both heavenly and fallen, in the face of every stranger

angels avoiding eye contact at all costs, because they just don’t want to be found

angels reverently walking into churches and being overwhelmed with home

angels shaking furiously as they pass churches, because they are overwhelmed with memories

angels staring into the mirror, counting flaws like stars and crying because they were glorious once

angels smirking into their reflection, because they could get used to this

angels smiling as they watch their loved ones just live, knowing they were brought here to protect them

angels snarling at strangers, angry because they can’t even begin to fathom

angels in country fields, weeping at night, begging to come home

angels walking city sidewalks, more in love with this home than they ever were in heaven

angels, who clutch at memories of souls of gold and bones of eternity

angels, who live by iron, dirt, and sheer force of will

angels, who walk the line of mortal and divine, who see no need to make the choice

angels seeking divinity

angels running from divinity

angels who just don’t care about divinity

angels

You Bring Out the Mexican in Me

by Sandra Cisneros

You bring out the Mexican in me.
The hunkered thick dark spiral.
The core of a heart howl.
The bitter bile.
The tequila lágrimas on Saturday all
through next weekend Sunday.
You are the one I’d let go the other loves for,
surrender my one-woman house.
Allow you red wine in bed,
even with my vintage lace linens.
Maybe. Maybe.

For You.

You bring out the Dolores del Rio in me.
The Mexican spitfire in me.
The raw navajas, glint and passion in me.
The raise Caine and dance with the rooster-footed devil in me.
The spangled sequin in me.
The eagle and serpent in me.
The mariachi trumpets of the blood in me.
The Aztec love of war in me.
The fierce obsidian of the tongue in me.
The berrinchuda, bien-cabrona in me.
The Pandora’s curiosity in me.
The pre-Columbian death and destruction in me.
The rainforest disaster, nuclear threat in me.
The fear of fascists in me.
Yes, you do. Yes, you do.

You bring out the colonizer in me.
The holocaust of desire in me.
The Mexico City ’85 earthquake in me.
The Popocatepetl Ixtaccíhuatl in me.
The tidal wave of recession in me.
The Agustín Lara hopeless romantic in me.
The barbacoa taquitos on Sunday in me.
The cover the mirrors with cloth in me.

Sweet twin. My wicked other,
I am the memory that circles your bed nights,
that tugs you taut as moon tugs ocean.
I claim you all mine,
arrogant as Manifest Destiny.
I want to rattle and rent you in two.
I want to defile you and raise hell.
I want to pull out the kitchen knives,
dull and sharp, and whisk the air with crosses.
Me sacas lo mexicana en mi,
like it or not, honey.

You bring out the Uled-Nayl in me.
The stand-back-white-bitch in me.
The switchblade in the boot in me.
The Acapulco cliff diver in me.
The Flecha Roja mountain disaster in me.
The dengue fever in me.
The !alarma¡ murderess in me.
I could kill in the name of you and think
it worth it. Brandish a fork and terrorize rivals,
female and male, who loiter and look at you,
languid in your light. Oh,

I am evil. I am the filth goddess Tlazoltéotl.
I am the swallower of sins.
The lust goddess without guilt.
The delicious debauchery. You bring out
the primordial exquisiteness in me.
The nasty obsession in me.
The corporal and venial sin in me.
The original transgression in me.

Red ocher. Yellow ocher. Indigo. Cochineal.
Piñón. Copal. Sweetgrass. Myrhh.
All you saints, blessed and terrible,
Virgen de Guadalupe, diosa Coatlicue,
I invoke you.

Quiero ser tuya. Only yours. Only you.
Quiero amarte. Atarte. Amarrarte.
Love the way a Mexican woman loves. Let
me show you. Love the only way I know how.


“Well, it may have escaped your notice, but life isn’t fair.”

Snape said to the boy who’s parents died when he was just one.
Snape said to the boy who was kept in a cupboard under the stairs, along with spiders.
Snape said to the boy who had to eat food thrown away by his cousin.
Snape said to the boy who knew nothing of his loving parents for years.
Snape said to the boy who had to sneak out of his cupboard at night to have food because he wasn’t fed.
Snape said to the boy who was surprised someone would send him Christmas presents.
Snape said to the boy who tried to reach out to his deceased mother through a mirror because he had no memory of being loved. Snape said to the boy who was confused by why everyone in the Burrow loved him.
Snape said to the boy who wouldn’t eat a chocolate because he assumed it was poisoned.
Snape said to the boy who had to hear his mother pleading to leave her son and kill her instead.
Snape said to the boy who secretly wanted to keep hearing his mother’s cries because it’s the only way he could hear her.
Snape said to the boy who never asked to be enrolled into a competition that would kill a boy in front of him.
Snape said to the boy who’s blood was taken against his will by a man his parents trusted.
Snape said to the boy who had no experience with dueling whatsover, but had to duel a monster and barely escaped, but took Cedric’s body to his father.
Snape said to the boy who had to watch his Godfather die, his Godfather who was his only hope for a loving family.
Snape said to Harry who didn’t ask to be the chosen one.
Snape said to Harry who was used by Dumbledore as a weapon in the war.
Snape said to the boy who had to see the death of his parents through their murderer’s eyes.
Snape said to the boy who had to watch everyone he loved die, one by one, but couldn’t grieve because he had to fight a war.
Snape said to the boy who had to duel the most powerful wizard all by himself.

He knows better than anyone how unfair life is.

Love Me Do

Adolf Hitler’s friends have lousy memories, but the Nazi enterprise would not have been possible without their help.

Like his colleagues Mussolini and Franco, Hitler got approval early on from the Catholic Church.

Hugo Boss dressed his troops.

Bertelsmann published the training manuals for his officers.

His airplanes flew thanks to fuel from Standard Oil, and his soldiers traveled in Ford trucks and jeeps.

The maker of those vehicles and author of The International Jew, Henry Ford, was his muse. Hitler thanked him with a medal.

He also decorated the president of IBM, the company that made it possible to track and identify Jews.

The Rockefeller Foundation financed Nazi medicine’s racial and racist research.

Joe Kennedy, father of the president, was the U.S. ambassador in London, but might as well have been the German one. And Prescott Bush, father and grandfather of presidents, was an associate of Fritz Thyssen, who used his fortune to further Hitler’ s cause.

Deutsche Bank financed the construction of the concentration camp at Auschwitz.

IG Farben, the giant chemical conglomerate, which later on changed its name to Bayer, BASF, and Hoechst, used concentration camp prisoners as guinea pigs and workers. These slave laborers made everything, even the gas that killed them.

The prisoners also worked for other companies, like Krupp, Thyssen, Siemens, VARTA, Bosch, Daimler-Benz, Volkswagen, and BMW, which provided an economic foundation for the Nazi madness.

Swiss banks made a killing buying the gold jewelry and teeth of Hitler’s victims. The gold crossed the border with astonishing ease, while the gates remained hermetically sealed to flesh and blood trying to escape.

Coca-cola came up with Fanta for the German market smack in the middle of war. During that period, Unilever, Westinghouse, and General Electric also boosted their investments and profits in the country. When the war ended, ITT received a multimillion-dollar settlement for damages to its factories in Germany caused by Allied bombing.

-Mirrors: Stories of almost everyone by Eduardo Galeano.

Shakespeare Aesthetics
  • Macbeth: the howl of wolves, moonless nights, dirt under fingernails, stained silk, chattering teeth, voices hoarse and cracked, rotting fruit, echoing drums, dry heaving, hanging cobwebs, stifling humidity, bloodshot eyes, the roughness of rusted steel, wild rosebushes, muscle cramps, the sound of splintering wood
  • A Midsummer's Night Dream: Crackling fires, ivy crawling on stone, the faint music of running water, petrichor, dirty, bare feet, tattered clothing, thistledown, wilted wildflower crowns, late evening birdsong, curling leaves, a symphony of croaking frogs, drifting feathers, the eerie sound of windchimes at night, humming bees, beds of clover
  • Romeo and Juliet: Warm golden lamplight, worn shoes, crumbling brick walls, whispered poetry, embroidered satin, cool, hazy mornings, tousled hair, rosewater, flushed cheeks, distant orchestras, unfinished marble statues, cobblestoned streets, loose threads, ink smudged on parchment, tapping fingers, dust illuminated by sunlight
  • Hamlet: Shattered glass, a cluster of fraying ribbons, unanswered knocks on doors, lingering dampness, white noise, inexplicable drafts, migraines, bleeding ears, the taste of metal, reflected mirrors, dry, cracked lips, the sound of tearing paper, fogged windows, memories of dreams, tarnished silver, protruding veins
library au part ?? (with Klance under the cut)
  • On a sad note, Shiro started working at the library because he wanted a more calm place to be after serving time in the army but still help the public
  • He was badly injured in a skirmish and lost his arm but he got a prosthetic
  • Some patrons are a bit weary when they see it but kids think it’s super rad and he likes to tell the kids that he’s a cyborg working here in secret and they absolutely love it
  • Whenever he hears a loud crash or someone yelling suddenly though he jolts immediately and has to try and recenter himself
  • Okay back to a happier note
  • Hunk is the one to typically bring in treats for the staff, like cookies or donuts or if they know they’ll all have a busy day, he’ll surprise them with a big breakfast buffet sort of thing
  • Coran does the closing announcements (“The library will be closing in 15 minutes…” ect..) and he’ll accidentally bump the wrong button sometimes and the phone’s hold music will start to play over the intercom instead and he spends an eternity trying to turn it off
  • What Pidge doesn’t wanna tell him is he just has to hang up (she like to watch the world burn, honestly)

Keep reading

James

Echo

Hi all! As you know we recently hit 400 followers! I just want to briefly mention again here- THANK YOU for all the support :) Anyway lets get on with the story! I spent ages rewriting this and the dialogue to make it as characteristic as possible, and because it contains themes which I can relate to and wanted it to be as real as possible. I hope you all enjoy a little Spock X Reader.

PROMPT - @trekken81 song prompt challenge- Jason Walker Echo. I recommend that you listen to the song to understand the story. Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxpLxb5jHO0

PAIRING - Reader X Spock 

WARNINGS - Mentions of Depression, Loss of life and a Vulcan Kiss.

POEM: The beautiful and amazing @internationaltaste created a poem inspired by this story! I really recommend that you give this a read, the way in which she carries the narrative through her astounding descriptions is outstanding. I was blown away and teary eyed as I read this, as you honestly do feel all the emotions she takes you through. Thank you so much for creating something inspired from this story, it really means so so much to me, and I love this poem with all my heart. (CLICK HERE TO READ)

Echo

You opened your eyes slowly with a groan, your back arching as you re-positioned yourself gradually. Rolling across the cold tiled floor, you took in your surroundings slowly. At first glance you recognised your quarters, the dark shadows swirling around the corners of the room menacingly as the darkness of space swallowed your surroundings whole. Ignoring the strange sense of apprehension which settled in your stomach, you shifted to press your palms beneath your chest and against the floor.

With quivering arms you slowly levered yourself upwards, your elbows screaming in response as you finally reached an upright sitting position, your head pulsating at the menial action.

“Lights at twenty percent.” You commanded softly as you pushed your back up against the foot of your bed. With a shuddered breath you closed your eyes lightly, your mind struggling to focus as it remained a jumbled mess of images and sounds. A frown creeped across your features as you struggled to recall anything prior to waking, but no matter how hard you scratched away at the surface, nothing moved to the forefront of your mind.

Cracking open an eye you sighed as you glanced upwards to the lighting above you; the distinct lack of overpowering white light causing a nervous chill to settle over you.

“Lights at twenty percent.” You repeated again, your tone more forceful than before. However once again, the system remained unchanged.

Flexing your fingers, you shifted suddenly using the momentum to rock up and onto the balls of your feet. Taking a moment to steady yourself, your eyes narrowed in on the access panel beside the door to your quarters.

You had barely moved a step when a soft rustling erupted from behind you, the layers of nervousness and apprehension which had rested in your stomach erupting to life once again; sending your mind into overdrive.

Eyes wide, you struggled to ignore the hairs which stood abrupt on the back of your neck. Pivoting slowly to face the strange sound, your eyes widened dramatically in response to what laid sprawled before you.

Keep reading

I just think it’s beyond beautiful that

Emma spent the first 28 years of her life completely alone. She spent it being cared about by no one, being looked after by no one, being put first by no one. She was always picked last, never prioritized, never the centre of anybody’s thoughts. 

In comes: Captain Killian Jones.

Who, literally from the moment he met her, made Emma Swan his Most Important Thing™. Never did he just like her, or just care for her, or just love her, no, no. He put her right at the very tippy tippy top of his list of Reasons To Carry On™. Like think of what that must’ve felt like to her, man. Like I feel like every single day she looked at him staring at her with his I Love You More Than The Jolly Roger™ gaze and she was just like, “Wow…really? Me? But I’ve never… Oh. Woah. Wow. I don’t even know how to…” and like he’s so growly when it comes to Emma Swan’s Wellbeing™. Like she’s stuck behind a cold wall? He’s Panicking™. Gold’s gunna trap her in a hat? He’s mega Panicking™. Her heart darkened by the efforts of Rumple feat. Queens of Darkness? Panicking™. She’s the Dark One and trapped in another realm? Holy shit is he ever Panicking™. She gets sucked into Wish!Realm? Panicking™ to the max. She’s dealing with hand tremors and battling a hooded figure? The Panicking™ is skyrocketing out of control. And then suddenly she’s his WIFE. And then suddenly his wife is not in his grasp and she is far away and look there she is in a mirror with no memories of him and holy sHIT HE IS Panicking™, Panicking™, Panicking™ CAUSE ALL HE CARES ABOUT IS EMMA SWAN(-JONES) AND IT’S SO BEAUTIFUL AND I’M RAMBLING BUT LIKE GUYS I’M NOT READY TO LET GO OF THIS SHIP PLS PROMISE ME WE CAN TALK ABOUT THEIR BEAUTY UNTIL THE END OF TIME ITSELF? 

The Lovers Cloud

 The night is still young and Shawn is laying on the bed. His head is propped up on the pillow with his arm laying behind it. His chest rises up slowly and evenly while he stares up at the ceiling. A week before he starts he North American Leg of Tour. This is the only time I have left with him before he returns to Pickering. A day that’s all I get with him until he comes back in August for my birthday and his. 

 I stare at my reflection in the foggy mirror after Shawn took a long hot shower. My hair is in a Dutch braid which reaches my mid back. The shirt that rests on my body looks like a dress compared to an actual shirt. My fingers start to undo the braid while I stare at myself in the mirror. A light red matte lipstick is added to my lips. I should never be around him when I need him the most. When I’m around him all I get is wild thoughts. 

 Nothing helps pretending to be angry or avoiding his gentle gestures when he comes back from tour. He’s irresistible he knows it and I know it. Shawn loves to see the affect he has on me every time he returns from tour. But I love the affect I have on him also. While his eyes roam my body as if it was the last time we would see each other. The ways his pupils dilate and his lips emit small pants of air. The walk to the room is short causing my nervous to heighten. 

The cold breeze from the open window causes my nipples to become erect. Shawn has his eyes closed his fingers play with the hem of his shorts. I’ve never been one to be sexy or be seductive, but with Shawn my shyness turns him on. I stand at the foot of the bed looking at Shawn as I nudge his foot with my fingers. He looks up quickly before casting his eyes back to the ceiling. His eyes close momentarily before he opens them once again in a slow motion. I watch carefully as I nudge him again hoping to gain a fraction of his attention like the ceiling is. 

 I stare up at the ceiling to see what is fascinating about it. A small gasp escapes my now parted lips as I see a mirror mounted to the ceiling. The first thing that comes to mind is fifty shades of grey. A small laugh is heard from Shawn causing my eyes to look down at him again. I tilt my head in confusion before my eyes drift back to the ceiling. 

 "Wondering how that got there?“ His raspy voice asks which is the sound I hope is only reserved to me. I nod before kneeling in between his parted legs on the bed. Shawn leans up on his elbows to watch my every movement as my eyes flickering between him and the mirror. The shirt I’m currently wearing rides up my thighs giving Shawn a perfect view of my black lace panties. The thought of me trying to seduce Shawn in any way has completely escaped my mind. Small creaks are heard from the bed moving near, but I don’t pay no mind to it all. 

The mirror portrays something more then innocence. Memories flashback when Shawn’s European tour kicked off. He bought the mirror to relive the passionate, yet heated moment in front of the mirror in his Amsterdam hotel bathroom. It was the second day for the shooting of “There’s nothing holding me back.” A smile makes its way onto my face as I look back at the memory 

 ************ 

 The hot shower steamed the whole bathroom making it hard for me to see. The lights which illuminated the room made it worse to see and I ended up missing my footing. 

 "Oh” I let out a small squeal as I felt strong arms wrap around my bare waist. Shawn’s face appeared as the steam started to disperse with the open bathroom door. His hand tilted me in a standing position before reaching over me and clearing the mirror. The muscles in his biceps flexed under his shirt with his rapid movements. Sweat was dripping down Shawn’s face indicating he did a hard work out with Andrew and Geoff. 

 His hair fell flat against his forehead losing his fluffy curls. My hand instinctively grab his hair trying to make it curl again, but finding it useless. A low whine escapes my lips as I let go of his sweaty hair. A low growl is heard from Shawn’s parted lips as I let out another low whine. 

 "What’s wrong?“ He asks his hands tightening their hold on my bare waist. Shawn’s eyes are glued to my breasts which move up and down with each breath I inhale and exhale. 

 "Hmm…. There’s nothing there to….” my sentence trails off as I see him looking down at me with lustful eyes. My breath catches in my throats when Shawn lifts me and sets me down on the cold counter. 

 "Ohh" a gasp and a moan leave my lips as I get the sensation of the cold granite top connecting with my heated core. The new sensations cause Shawn to emit another growl before capturing his lips with mine. Our lips move rhythmically together and my legs wrap themselves around his waist pulling him in closer to my bare body. He shudders with the sudden closeness as his bulge touches my inner thigh. Goosebumps rise all over my body, Shawn takes notice and smirks into the kiss. 

 "Need to feel your skin on my m-mine" I tell him as his lips start to leave open mouth kisses down to my neck. My fingers grab the hem of his shirt before letting my fingers trace his abs. Shawn’s body is quick to react to my pleads and takes off his shirt in a hurry. His pants and his boxers are the next thing to go. I stare head to toe memorizing his body just like it was the first time. It’s in these rare occasions that I stare even though I know his body in and out. I can’t help it….. 

 "Are you going to keep staring or actually do something?“ Shawn asks his voice barley above a whisper. His hands pull me close once again which allows his member to tease my entrance. Without another word Shawn flips me over so I’m facing the mirror. My breath grows shallow as my bare stomach touches the cold granite top. His fingers trace down my spine causing more shivers to arise. His hand makes it to the curve of my bum before sending a gentle smack making my arouse grow. The mirror cleared up a bit giving me a perfect view of Shawn. His hands gripped my shoulders hard before moving his hand to my throat. In one swift movement Shawn pulled me back his hand still around my throat putting light pressure on it as his breath fans over my ear. He squeezes my throat a bit before biting down on my earlobe. My fingers wrap themselves around his wrist. 

 "Wouldn’t you want to know how you look like while I thrust into you gently or roughly. Huh? The way your eyebrows scrunch together when I hit your g-spot. Or the way your lips shape into a perfect ‘o’ when you come down from your high. The way those fingers grip onto the bed sheets on the first thrust. So tell me baby, do you want to see what I see every time I make you mine over and over again?” Shawn whispers roughly into my ear with a raspy voice. Our gazes stare at one another through the mirror. His eyes never leaving mine as he let’s go of my throat again. I stay close to his chest moving slightly to look up at him. 

 "S-Shawn I-I a I need a …..“ the words don’t come out as I see Shawn’s eyes darken with lust. 

 "What do you need darling?” Shawn uses the word that has me at his mercy. I won’t be getting gentle Shawn in anyway. His eyes never leave my eyes as I try to breathe in and out. 

 "K-kiss" the next thing I feel is Shawn’s lips smashing onto mine. He licks my bottom lips to gain entrance, but me being a tease I decide to keep denying him access. A growl is heard before Shawn grabs a hold of my throat again and squeezes a little harder than normal. I gasp out which allows Shawn’s tongue to enter my mouth. In an instant he pulls away leaving me whimpering with the loss of his plump lips. His hands push me back flat against the granite top and giving me a gentle kiss. 

 "Mirror! Look at the mirror" Shawn growls out as I waiting in anticipation while staring down at the granite top. My eye lift up to watch his movements. 

 "So wet….. All for me" Shawn whispers before aligning his erect member to my entrance. “Sh-Shawn! Do something!” I scream out as I see he is taking his damn time. A smack is felt as my body pushes forward away from his hands. The pain to much to bare, this is punishment. 

 "Darling you know how I don’t like to be rushed-aww" Shawn’s smacks my bum again harder then the last one. “Don’t you?” I nod my head in quick motion as I watch his piercing brown eyes through the mirror. 

 "A nod isn’t helping your case" Shawn says before another smack is left side on my bum. 

 "Yes" I whimper out as he massages my bum. Shawn’s tip is at my entrance and he enters slowly in which I tense with the new sensation. 

 "Y/N, baby, you need to relax….“ Shawn says while caressing my side. 

 "I-I can’t…. I-I’m trying too” I whimper back an answer. He pushes all the way not taking any of my protests into consideration. His thrusts are slow as he watches us through the mirror. The fog starts to cover the mirror once again. Shawn’s hand reaches out towards the mirror to clear it up and he stops thrusting inside of me. My face becomes visible once again and just like Shawn said ‘The way your eyebrows scrunch together,’ the scene take any breath away as I watch Shawn through the mirror eyebrows furrowed into concentration. I involuntary clench around him arising a deep moan within his throat.

 He stays still without moving and I’m losing all my patience. My hips move forward causing him to awake from his daze. I move back on to his erect member. Swirling my hips in a circle motion and fucking myself on his erect member. A low main escapes my parted lips as I gaze at Shawn’s blurry form through he mirror. His eyes are closed a hand runs through his hair over and over again. Shawn’s eyebrows furrow together and he connects both his hands behind his head. My movements still as I try and catch my breath from looking at the sight. 

 His eyes open slowly looking at me and the place we’re we connect as one. Shawn moves his hips slowly before increasing his pace. I try my best to keep my eyes on the mirror, but fail miserably as the pressure building in my abdomen is rising. Shawn’s breaths turn to breathy pants as his thrusts start to get sloppy. Suddenly my head is being pulled back by Shawn’s hand wrapped around my hair. He left sloppy kisses along my jaw as he stopped thrusting inside my body aching for a release. 

 "I want you to look! I said look at the mirror Y/N!“ Shawn growled out as he gripped my chin to look at the now foggy mirror. My eyes are trained on the mirror waiting for Shawn to begin thrusting again. 

“Keep your eyes on the mirror. Don’t blink and don’t look down for any reason, you got that? I want you- No, I need you to see what I see every time we make love, angry sex, goodbye sex, late night sex and the list goes on Y/N…. the way I see you in complete and utter bliss as you come down from your high. Eyes barley open enough to keep them trained on me. Sweat running down the valley of your breasts. Hair fanned out, when we’re on the bed, your chest rising at a rapid and slowly going back to normal once your orgasm is done. Need to see you watch yourself, can you do that for me Darling?” I only nod and Shawn begins to thrust again. 

 "Shawn! I-I’m c-cl-“ the sentence is never finished as a load moan makes it way through my parted lips. My eyes want to close so badly, but I can’t as I watch Shawn come to his own high. I clench around around over and over again from the overstimulation. 

 "Fuck!” A loud moan is heard and I train my eyes on the mirror again. Sweat runs down his forehead and his hands tighten their hold on my waist. Moans keep coming from Shawn and he wants to silence them, yet he can’t seem to find a way to. A piercing pain is felt in my right shoulder, for Shawn is biting down as he rides out his orgasm. He soon slumps against my now sweaty body catching his breath as best as he can. 

 "You saw it right? What I see?“ Shawn whispers out his voice raspy and groggy. I giggle at his question as I simply nod looking at him through the cleared up mirror. Shawn removes himself from inside me grabbing a towel on the rack. His arms turn me around and lift me on the granite top. I watch him as he cleans me up and himself as we are surrounded by a comfortable silence. Shawn stands between my legs pulling me close to him. 

 "I love you Shawn” I tell him nerves are heard within my voice. It doesn’t matter how many time we’ve exchanged this three words which hold so much emotion I still get nervous every time I tell Shawn. 

 "I love you, Y/N” Shawn whispers back placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. We stay like this for sometime before retiring back to the the hotel bedroom. *************** 

 "Y/N? Baby?Where did you go?“ Shawn directly in front of me a worried look on his face. His arms gently cup my face as he looks for any sign of discomfort. I blink a few times pulling myself out of the daze. Shawn’s legs are tucked under him giving him a child’s like innocence. Almost. A smirk makes way into Shawn’s face as he looks up at the mirror again. 

 "Pretty right? Thought we could keep reliving the memory from Amsterdam.” Shawn says pulling and siting back down on the bed with his legs crossed. 

 "If you think this mirror will make anything happen tonight your so dead wrong Mendes" I tell him trying to keep a confident voice, but it shakes at the end. “Is that so Darling?” Shawn says leaning on his elbows once again. I lift up Shawn’s shirt which leaves my chest bare and in plain sight along with my black lace panties. I maneuver myself so I’m sitting on his lap. Shawn’s breath hitches a he stares at my breasts licking his lips as his eyes land on my face. 

 "Thought you said 'if you think this mirror will make anything happen tonight your so dead wrong’ “ Shawn mimics my voice and adds a high pitch to add dramatic effect. Arms in circle my waist pulling me closer into his bare chest. I humm as my arms link themselves behind his neck. 

 "The mirror is an added bonus, but I already had something planned for tonight” I tell him as I kiss his jaw over and over again. 

 "I like the way you think baby" Shawn whispers before capturing my lips with his. The sparks fly as I tangle my fingers into his fluffy hair. Tugging at the roots which make Shawn moan out once in a while. His lips pull apart from mine as he trials kisses down my neck. Shawn’s breath feathers above my collar bone lips barely touching my skin. Soon enough his lips attach to my collarbone as he shapes them into a circle and starts to suck. I can feel the blood rising to the area where Shawn’s lips are attached. Whimpers leave my mouth as Shawn bites the area and licks the freshly made hickey. 

 "Shawn" his name comes in short breaths as his fingers trail down to the hem of my panties. He looks up with a teasing smile and resumes his journey to slide his fingers under the lace fabric. His makes contact with my bundle of nerves sending a burning sensation to arise in my abdomen. My hands grip onto his shoulders as he roughly draws figure eights on my clit. Shawn’s lips connect with mine in a slow and passionate kiss. Whimpers leave my mouth as Shawn removes his fingers and trails to my entrance. His two fingers start to thrust in me at a steady pace. One of his hands rocks my hips against his fingers. I rest my head on Shawn’s shoulders as he adds a third finger. 

 "Your doing so great, baby" Shawn whispers into my ear as I rock myself on his fingers. His head looks up which also causes me to look up also. His eyes are trained on the mirror as he watches my movements halt. 

 "Keep moving Y/N" Shawn demands and I do as he says. And then stop again Shawn lifts me up before throwing me on the bed. The bed creaks at the sudden movement. Shawn gazed down on me with darkened eyes as he removes his fingers. He raises them up to his lips as he sucks them clean a hum coming from his mouth. I watch as he finishes sucking his fingers slowly opening his eyes. My chest rises at a rapid pace. His hands make there way around my neck pulling me in closer to him. 

Our lips barely brushing against each other causing a crave for his plump and soft pink lips against my own. Shawn’s eyes bore into mine without inching his lips closer to mine. My hand makes itself its way around his neck pulling him closer so we can indulge in a much needed kiss. Our lips move in sync as he pulls me completely onto his lap. He wraps my legs around his torso as his hands lower themselves on my body. He lifts me up turning us slowly as we still indulge in a heated kiss. Shawn lays us down gently before pulling away from our now swollen lips. His hands reach the hem of my panties pulling them down mid thigh as he blows cold air on my heated core. I shudder in reaction to the air clenching my hands onto the bedsheets. 

 "So beautiful and all for me" Shawn mumbles as he continues he torturous journey pulling my panties down my legs. Once they are removed Shawn trails open mouth kisses up my legs switching between each kiss. 

 I was in the bed while Shawn lay on top of me. He mumbled something as his face was on breasts. I felt his lips pucker up then he kissed one breast before moving to the other. I found it weird always. I nudged Shawn’s face away from chest. He wouldn’t budge and continued peppering kisses. 

 "Shawn. Baby. Shawn!!“ I tell him nudging his shoulder over and over again. He pulls away his face red and his breathing ragged. 

 "What? I in the middle of something” he said as he lay his head back down but was still able to see me. 

 "Baby why do you always kiss each breast. Or each hand" I ask as my fingers run through his fluffy hair. He hums in response before looking up at me. 

 "Can’t have one side of your body thinking I don’t love them because I don’t show them the same affection as the other part" he says placing a kiss on my lips. 

 "You are an idiot Mendes" I say in between giggles as I place a kiss on his lips. “True but at least I’m yours right? Your idiot” Shawn says before resting his head on my chest once again. 

 I snap out of my daze as I feel Shawn’s lips sucking on my bundle of nerves. My hands instinctively go to his hair tugging on it and before I know it Shawn’s lips are removed. 

 "Had to get a taste" he says before removing his shorts and boxers in one swift movement. He kneels in between my parted legs resting one of them on top of his shoulder. 

 "N-no condom?“ I ask looking at his erect member and then his face. He looked at me then the dresser moving towards it. I catch his wrist as he reaches the top of the dresser. I give a nod before releasing his hand. Shawn settles himself between my legs again. The only other time we’ve went bare was in Amsterdam in the hotel bathroom. Shawn looks at me once again and kisses my lips as he pushes into me slowly. I grab his hand which is near my head interlacing our fingers together. I squeeze his hand and Shawn starts thrusting into me. 

I gasp at the sensation reaching anywhere on the bed to get a good grip on something. Shawn groans above me as his eyes stay locked on the area in which we connect as one. His eyes go dark and he bites his lip hard as his eyes trail up my body. They land on my breasts which move with every deep thrust he makes. Strings on moans live my lips as I feel Shawn lower my leg towards the mattress. In once swift movement I’m on top of Shawn as he lays down. I let out a small squeal at the change of position. 

Shawn’s fingers dig into my skin as he lifts me up and slams me down on his erect member. My hands rest in his chest as I raise myself up and start to bounce on him. He removes his hands running them down his face. Sweat starts running down his chest as he looks up at me giving me a lazy smile. I smile back closing the space between us and kissing his swollen lips. Shawn lays me down on top him holding me down with his hand around my neck giving it a small gentle squeeze. His hips jerk upwards in fast pace as I clutch onto the mattress. 

“Uh ah oh S-Shawn” I moan out as he hugs me closer into him his pace becoming sloppy and slow. A quick change of position again and I’m underneath him clutching onto him for dear life. My orgasm a few thrusts away as I wrap my quivering legs around his waist. Shawn picks up his brutal pace again although it’s sloppy, yet still deep. He groans into my neck biting down on it as I clench around him. 

 "Let go… I know you want to Y/N. just let go princess” Shawn whispers into my ear. I nod in response unable to form words as my orgasm reaches its peak. 

“Ahhh. Shawn” his name leaves my lips repeatedly like a pray of some sort. Shawn’s close his heart beat is beating rapidly and his legs are starting to give out on him. 

 "Baby- fuck Y/N" Shawn let’s go my name leaving his lips in a small chant like prayer. I bite in his shoulder as I feel him release into me. As soon as he rides out our highs he leaves kiss on my shoulder. Shawn looks up at me opening his mouth, but I beat him to it. 

 "Pill" is all I say as Shawn relaxes once again removing himself from me. He snuggles into my side resting his head on my chest. He breathing starts to even out a bit. 

 "Not that I don’t want have kids with you. Like the song says “first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage” I want to do it right, because your special and the love of my life Y/N" Shawn tells me pulling me in closer to his body. I smile as I kiss his forehead looking forward to the future with Shawn. He mutters a whispered goodnight snuggling in closer to me. 

 "Goodnight baby" I whispers back running my hands through his hair as sleep slowly consumes me. 

So I’ve been seeing this post floating around Tumblr about how Harry should have retrieved the Resurrection Stone and imagine how wonderful it would have been for the characters to have closure with their loved ones and how beautiful and emotionally satisfying and and and… heart-wrenching stuff.

But… that’s completely not what the Resurrection Stone does.

The Stone is a liar, designed by Death to draw people away from life. The Second Brother literally goes insane from the image of his lost love, and kills himself to join her in death. And if you don’t believe the fairy tale (heh), look at what happens when Harry uses the Stone: Yes, his mother, father, Sirius and Remus appear, but they lure him to death. They literally encourage him to walk to his supposed grave. What does StoneLily say? “You’ve been so brave”. Compare that to the urgency of Goblet of Fire’s ShadowLily. Do they seem quite the same? Does it seem quite like Remus to be so passive in the face of dying before getting to know his son? Or for Sirius to encourage anyone to simply accept their death lying down?

Time and again, J. K. Rowling has emphasized the importance of “moving on” in the context of death. Think about it. Harry has another experience with the memories of his parents which nearly derails him -  the Mirror of Erised. The Stone - which creates a far more tangible memory and far more dangerous allure - is devastating by nature. It’s not heartwarming or romantic or sweet. Frankly, I’m baffled that we would forget such a critical part of the Stone’s mythology. It is no less a murder weapon than the Elder Wand. It simply kills in a more roundabout way.

A Fine Line

@rhysand-darling based on her post requesting that someone, anyone write a post acowar fanfic where Feyre and Tamlin talk. He apologizes to her and all this stuff. I hope that it meets a few of your needs.

- - - - - - -

He was ashamed to admit that it took him a better part of a decade to stop being angry with her. One night and many bottles of wine later, his ever loyal sentry Bron had shared with him what those few years were like. In the haze of his intoxication he remembered something his mother once told him. Hate and love were a fine line, you chose which side of the line your heart resides. The next morning he went to her old room, he expected the thorns, what he did not expect were the paintings.  

He knew deep down that she did not paint these before or during the war. Five paintings sat as roses amongst the thorns.

An enchanted willow tree. Lucien laughing while sitting on a blanket with a bottle of wine. A pool of stars. Two beings dancing to the song of will-o’-the-wisps. A beautiful male playing the fiddle.  No, not a nameless beautiful male, him. Not the monster he saw in the mirror, had seen for decades, centuries. The memories came cascading down upon his soul and that is when he cracked. He fell to his knees, he did this, he had chosen hate. Even before her, he let the monster within rule his life.

- - - - - - -

Every solstice after he found those paintings, he told himself that he would talk with Feyre. Every year he said he would apologize. And every year he made up an excuse not to reach out to her. In the end he always told himself that he was the one that needed closure, not her. She was happy. 

She had no idea that he had moved the paintings to various places around the manor. They helped remind him that he was not his father, he was not the beast that prowled beneath his skin. The paintings reminded him that he had a musician’s soul.

- - - - - - -

It had taken decades, but his court and his soul were healing from his father’s reign, a reign he had allowed to continue in the name of tradition.  Since the day he leashed the beast, each tradition was evaluated for what it brought to his people, to his court. He was about to cancel the upcoming centenary Jubilee, another pointless tradition of the Spring Court, when his advisers told him that the people needed a celebration. More importantly the Jubilee was a chance for other courts to visit.

- - - - - - -

The night of the Jubilee ball came, as he descended the stairs his breath caught. She was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Her gold brown hair cascaded down her back in waves. She wore a fitting dress of midnight blue that complimented her skin tone and her tattoos. 

Her attention was on the painting he had hung in the foyer, her painting of two souls dancing to the song of will-o’-the-wisps.

“I was wondering if you ever found them.”

He swallowed the knot forming in his throat, “I found them a decade after the war. Thank you.”

It had been too long since her voice echoed off the walls of this manor, “I was so angry with you. I felt like I had given everything for our love and you never saw it. Never valued what I gave.”

He couldn’t look into the eyes of the girl he had abused, he instead looked at his toes, “you had every right to be angry with me. You gave your life for me, for this court, for Prythian. I repaid you by locking you within this manor, letting the grief and despair eat you alive. I did not see you and I will always regret that I didn’t find a way to help you. That is why I hung this painting here, as a reminder.”

He finally looked up and saw silver lining her blue-grey eyes. He only then realized that they had both needed this. They both needed closure. And for all the things he had never given her, the one thing he could give her was closure.

“When I came back I wanted to burn this place to the ground for what you had done to me, for taking me away from my mate and my family. I am sorry for the part I played, for the destruction I caused.”

He nodded, “I was angry at you for a long time for that, but you have nothing to apologize for.”

She looked at him, and for a briefest moment he saw the shock at his words.

“During that month, you gave me choices. If I would have chosen my sentries over a high priestess, my court would not have fallen as easily as it did. If I would have choose to listen to Lucien instead of Ianthe,” he spit out her name with a level of venom that had not passed his lips in decades, “my court would not have been starving.”

He took a deep breath, “I made many bad choices, the moment I made that deal with Hybern, I should have evacuated most of my court, instead of letting countless souls die at the hand of that monster. After I received your letter, instead of running to Hybern, I could have requested a meeting with you. After Lucien came back from the Illyrian steppes and said that you were healthy and you made the choice to stay, I could have listened to him.”

They looked at each other for what felt like an eternity. Each of them trying to silently convey everything that they had ever felt for one another, happiness, love, regret, loss, anger, forgiveness.

“I’m sorry. I am sorry for every painful moment you felt because of me, either from my inaction or from my actions. No matter what I did, it always seemed to hurt you and that will always be one of my greatest regrets in this life.”

Her hand reached up to caress his cheek, “There will always be a part of me that loves you and I will always be grateful for what you have given me.”

“Thank you, Feyre,” he swallowed the sob that wanted to leave his throat, “thank you for seeing the male behind the beast and loving me.”

She didn’t need to hear that there would always be a part of him that loved her as well. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, a silent goodbye to the girl he loved. With a smile, he left her in the foyer.  

Before he entered the ballroom he turned around for one last look at the girl who changed him. In that moment he knew the monster that had once ruled his heart was gone. Instead of feeling jealousy and anger, he felt awed by the sight before him of the High Lady and High Lord of the Night Court.

He knew there would be another time for the apology that he owed to a male that had given him friendship when no one else had. He would need to tell him a story and beg his forgiveness for his inaction.