we heart it ink

You never text or talk to me anymore. You never keep conversations with me anymore. You kinda pushed me away. So, I did the same.
—  Wordsbymymind

But how painful it is,
to see and
hold your hand,
to kiss and
remember your lips,
when you’re no
longer in my life.

How much ache
it would cost me,
to hope for
another chance,
when you’re no
longer happy
to spare me
one last glance?

—  ma.c.a // Why do we have to meet, and break each other’s heart?
Do you ever think that we took things a little backwards? I have a history of pouring a little too much out of my heart so I’m not really surprised by that. I know how my words can be sometimes, how my stitches aren’t always lined up. I flooded you with too much of me and then tried to calm things down–as I do with everyone–but you didn’t let me. You told me that you wanted all of those things, all of those thoughts, all of those feelings because that was it for you. You just completely admired the way I felt things, not carefully, but all at once. And then? Then when you told me that you loved me? I couldn’t possibly get enough of you.
—  🖤
I wanted to believe him
When he said I was his one and only.
I couldn’t stop doubting him
It began to kill us slowly.
I couldn’t believe that I was enough
And I wish I wasn’t right.
All his sweet words weren’t enough
When I read what he would write.

So now I’m scared to let you in,
I’ve forgotten how to trust.
I know now that it’s sink or swim,
So I’m brushing off this dust.
I don’t know if these walls will break
They hardly ever crack.
But If you give me your all,
I’ll try to give mine back.

—  K.N.B.
This is Not an Ending

we will meet again
i have to believe that

your heart will be a safe place
for me to rest my head
i will be your sounding board

we will meet again
i simply must believe

i will be a field of wildflowers
you will be the rain

we will meet again
through time
as lovers or as friends

Azuki Lynn

It’s like we keep coming back to each other and no matter what happens, I still have feelings for you left. You were the first guy I really cared about and the first that I’ve deeply fallen in love with. And that’s something that will simply never change, because for me you’ll always be that guy. Forever in my heart.
—  L.N. | my first love
It’s the saddest story in the world: sometimes the “right person” is not enough.
—  excerpt from a book I’ll never write #22

All I have is my humanity.
I am so soft.
I am so soft.
I am so soft.
I often repeat myself.
As if I am trying to convince myself of what I am saying.
As if I am running from my words but they are stones in my shoes and I am falling after every breath.

Someone told me I should write a book.
I looked at the clouds and counted how many looked like the way your lips would feel across my neck.

I am tearing out pages of the bible and strangling God with prophecy that is my soul.
I know the moon too well for her to spill my secrets.

I thought we would grow old together.
Birth babies like laughter together.
But I am waking up in the middle of the day to see your face screaming voicelessly and I would rather run straight for the fucking edge of this earth than never hear you say my name.

I am shaking, darling.

People are staring at my paranoia and my suffering is so loud.

Last night I had a dream that we were standing in a room of mirrors and I tried to reach for you.

Last night I had a dream that we were standing in a room of mirrors and I tried to reach for you.


Last night I had a dream that we were standing in a room of mirrors and I tried to reach for you.

I could see you cracking open your ribcage and I wanted nothing more than to hide your hands in mine and kiss you back together.
Kiss every broken bone created by you and by me and by me.

I know you are scared of my hands.
They have always been so destructive.
But for you,
I would break them back and make them as soft as Beethoven’s fifth secret.

I know you are scared of my heart.
It has always beat everyone who has tried to turn me into water.
Something that flows so easily.
No rough edges.
No cracked centers.
But for you,
I would break it open and make it as holy as the verses you whispered into me the night you told me you loved me.

—  There is a dream stuck in the head of every lover. A dream of about to be hit. But even God will expose her bones if it means she gets to sleep inside of hands forever.

“Do you miss him or the way being loved feels like?” she asked me.

“I don’t know,” I said. “But the way he loved me…”

“How? Tell me how,” she asked.

“He loved me in a way that he knew my favorite chocolate, he bought me my favorite lemonade when I was in a bad mood, he knew I didn’t like coffee, he secretly sprayed his cologne on my pillows knowing how much it relaxed me, he rode in my car even when terrified of the way I drive, he waited for me to come home so he could go to sleep knowing I was safe, he listened to me for hours talking about something he knows nothing nor care about, he let me sleep at 3pm in his arms, he looked at me like nothing else mattered in this world, he rocked me while caressing my hair and waited for the pain to go away, he wanted me and my flaws and my past and my broken parts.”

“And what happened?”

I said, “I didn’t love him enough so I had to let go.”

—  excerpt from a book I’ll never write #20
We are open!

Hello fellow Outlander fans, and welcome!

A few of us fan artists have decided to get together and make art, and we need you! 

This blog is dedicated to making fanart based on your prompts and requests!

We all use different mediums and techniques - from photoshop to pencil, ink and paper - but we all put our heart into it. 

This blog is a blank page; what will you make of it?

– Mods Christine, Fiona and Silver

Please read our guidelines before sending requests.

You don’t know how to fall in love,
never did, so what you do is fabricate
a dream out of as many truths as you can.

One: he is smart and defiant and full
of a restlessness that outshines all else,
but you are ten and this is the kind of boy
everyone expects you to like.

Two: he storms into the room, yelling.
It’s five years later and he hasn’t changed,
not in your eyes,
but it’s gotten harder to look at him.

Three: you are in college and he is in college
and he likes to name the bones in your hand.
You’ve spent so long pretending to like him,
you feel you might have wished it into fact.

Four: he tells you it’s never goodbye
when it comes to the two of you,
which is just such a freaking line.
You can’t seem to forget it.

Five: even when you don’t fall in love,
you find other ways to break your own heart.

—  The things we do

on the futon in her room
your eyes on mine
I asked you, what you were thinking about.
you, you said. nothing else.
just you.

in her kitchen
you hummed one of my favorite songs, and I hugged you.
im sorry, I said. nothing else.
im sorry.

on her back porch
your eyes avoiding mine
it rolled off your tongue sticky and slow.
we both cried.

in her car
we used to hold hands in the backseat.
the smiths were playing, you sang along.
we didn’t look at each other then.

her futon doesn’t exist anymore to me. nor her kitchen, her back porch, her car.
and neither do we.

—  friends can break your heart too