words-hurts

Skyline {VII}

Originally posted by tom-cinnamonroll-holland

Warnings: Language, panic attack

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 3.1k

A/N: Guys!!!! This is the last part of Skyline.  Like, for real this time.  I’m so sad to see it end, but I’m also so happy that it’s had such success, and I can’t thank you guys enough for that.  You are all so so wonderful, and you have all my love.  As usual, I want to give a shout out to Zoe and Jen for reading my drafts and helping me edit and brainstorm, as well as encouraging me to write.  As for all of you, I hope you’ll forgive me for all the angst that I’ve hit you guys with (remember when Skyline was self-indulgent fluff lmao), and I really hope this makes up for it a bit.  In other news, tonight is the Spidereyhes Sleepover!!!!!!!!  All the info on the sleepover can be found here, as well as info about the livestream, which will start at 7pm PST.  I’ll post the link on here!! Zoe, Jen, and I will be discussing all kinds of things, answering questions, and talking about Skyline, so be sure to drop by!!! Also, if you have any questions about Skyline or anything else that you want answered, send it in!!!! It’s not too late yall.  Again, thank you so much, and I hope you’ve enjoyed Skyline as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it.

skyline: a mixtape

{part i} {part ii} {part iii} {part iv} {part v}

Sitting up in your bed, you stared at the window, not sure of how to react to seeing Spider-Man’s masked face through the glass.  Throwing back your covers, you quietly walked over to the window, grabbing a hoodie that Peter had lent you as you passed your desk.  Sliding the glass panel up, you climbed out onto the metal fire escape, slipping on and zipping up Peter’s hoodie to protect you from the cold.

The superhero stood where he had first stood, the night he saved your life and blew up Vizzini’s all those months ago.  And there, to his right, were the flower pots that he had tripped over the first time he came back for you.  Those stairs were where you would sit and draw while he watched your fingers fly across the page, amazed at the pictures you created.  Behind him was the railing that you would lean against as you looked at the Queens skyline together.  This fire escape was your entire relationship condensed, the one location where you were allowed to be with each other.  If you used your imagination, you could almost see every single night playing out in front of your eyes.  Spider-Man, with a bendy straw underneath his mask.  Spider-Man, attempting to draw you in the moonlight.  Spider-Man, his hand on your waist and the other in your hair. Spider-Man.

Keep reading

earl-01  asked:

How about #34 with Dunne. Please and thanks

You were sensitive about your soulmark, only a handful of people having ever been able to read the words. You didn’t like people getting so close, the chicken scratch was written on the sensitive skin just below the waistband of your pants and your pubic mons, nor did you like to see the pity that would always flood their face when the implication of your words hit them. 

The hurt that came from knowing what your words said and the knowledge that those words could only be said in a handful of situations, each one worse than the last, almost ruined you when you were younger. But like all wounds, it eventually scabbed and scarred, the hurt only coming back when you dwelled on them too long. 

Twenty three years passed without hearing the words spoken to you. You’d almost, almost forgotten about them until it  happened. 

You’d been minding your own business, eyes glued to the tablet in your hand, running to yet another production meeting before another Progress show in the States, when you’d crashed into him. Your tablet went crashing to the ground, his tea fortuitously splattering across the top of it, and you practically howled.

“Fuck me up the ass, Dunne!”

Instead of the laugh you knew that would have gotten from his cohorts who were always by his side, Tyler and Trent, there was silence. You’d looked up from your now destroyed tablet to Pete’s ashen face.

You had never really interacted with the Progress champion, considered too far down the totem pole to really get face time with him. You were Smallman’s golden girl, his and Glen’s right hand behind the scenes, and it afforded you a certain untouchability. The talent avoided you, knowing that if anything went sideways, it was more than likely that the two co-founders would side with their adopted little sister. 

“No. Not you. Anyone but you.”

All the air went rushing out of your lungs and it felt like the walls were closing in on you. The small fire of hope that your words would come in another context other than rejection was cruelly extinguished and you swallowed heavily. 

“I-I gotta go.”

You turned tail and ran. You barely registered the sound of a hand slapping the back of another’s head and you certainly didn’t hear Trent scolding Pete and telling him to go after you. Your eyes stung and your lungs burned as you winded through the never ending maze of hallways, only to be stopped abruptly by a hand with an iron grip clasping onto your wrist and whirling you around. 

There was only time to make out molten gray-blue eyes and a gruff, “Didn’ mean it that way, kitten.” before slightly chapped lips were pressed roughly against your mouth and cajoled you into a heated kiss.

anonymous asked:

What's your favorite line of your new song?

fuck, thank you for asking this!! This song is definitely my best lyrically. It’s full of little lessons I’ve learned about love & relationships over the past year so each line means a lot to me.

So, hard to choose.. but either “Truth can scar and words can hurt, but my sensitive mind will always learn” or “Sometimes our pride may get the best of us.. the constellations in our souls combust, but once the air is still and cleared of dust we’re here”

anonymous asked:

Number 3 for the kiss prompt for Theron and aramys beECAUSE I STRIVE FOR THE ANGST

YOU WANTED ANGST WELL HERE IT IS ANON

I actually ended up pairing this with the piece I just posted here.

Kiss Prompt - #3: kissing so desperately that their whole body curves into the other person’s

She had slowly closed the gap between them, having crept up on him like he was some kind of wild animal.  He probably would have fled like one if he’d been given the chance.  It was just the two of them now, Senya had melted away into the background.  Aramys had thrown hurtful words at him just moments earlier, the tears that had welled up in her eyes hadn’t even been fully shed.
“Please, Aramys,” Theron whispered, begging her to turn and go.  He couldn’t be here, seen with her, or everything he had done would be for nothing; his cover would be blown.  She didn’t understand why he was so anxious to get away, how could she?  But if he told her, like he so desperately wanted to, he’d be just as vulnerable to breaking his charade.
“You don’t get to say you still love me, tell me you don’t and I’ll go,” her voice was guttural, as if it pained her to even speak.  She saw Senya move out of the corner of her eye.  She knew Senya wasn’t entirely onboard with letting a traitor just walk away, but she’d follow orders.  Theron’s eyes darted to her as well, still surprised that she was all Aramys brought with her.  If Theron really had been out to her kill her, she’d be quite an easy target.  It was a foolish decision on her part, unless death wasn’t something she wasn’t afraid of.  Her earlier comment of rather having died in carbonite than face what he’d done to her may have been more honest that he originally suspected.
“Come home,” her voice broke.  She extended a hand, reaching for him in silent desperation.
Damn he missed her, every muscle in his body fought him to not step toward her reaching fingers.  His legs trembled, his knees locked, and his jaw clenched.  He could smell her, a lingering scent of her special ordered Alderaanian shampoo.  He remembered teasing her when she requested it from Hylo, she had been so worried about getting the right one.  He missed listening to her suck on hard candies as she worked, even though it drove him crazy.  He missed burying his face into her hair, he missed her laugh.  He missed everything.
“It’s—It’s bigger than us,” he repeated, having said it earlier.  Aramys’ hand dropped to her side, and her brow knotted.  The soft, hurt expression she had worn only seconds ago vanished as she glanced over her shoulder at Senya.
“You’re right,” she mumbled, “It is.”
Theron wasn’t sure why she was suddenly agreeing with him, and watched Senya for any sudden movement.  But Senya stayed perfectly still.
“There’s more than us, now,” Aramys turned back to him, but avoided eye contact.
“What are you—” Theron began, confused.  He cut himself off when he noticed Aramys’ hand protectively hover over her stomach for a single moment before quickly falling back to her side.
He lunged forward, hungrily grabbing her and pressing his lips to hers.  Her mouth tasted sweet, like those candies she loved.  It was a familiar taste, one that haunted him every night when he tried to sleep.
He ignored his sudden nausea, the knots in his chest, and the lump in his throat.  He allowed him mind to blank when her hips pressed against him, her thin fingers finding their way into his hair as she fervently kissed him back.  He felt himself melt into her, taking in every sensation like these were his last moments. His hands crept around her waist, pausing for a moment when they found the small swell of her abdomen.
Theron ripped himself away from her, turning his back so she wouldn’t see the torn expression he likely wore.  He wasn’t going to change his mind, no matter how badly he wanted to.  Especially with this new information.  If anything, the possibility of this baby was strengthening his resolve.  If he wanted them to have any kind of future, he had to do this.  He had to break her to keep her safe.
“Theron?” Aramys said, a bit out of breath from their hungry embrace.
“I have to go.  Don’t track me.” He said harshly.  He could feel Aramys wilt behind him.  He’d given her hope and had just as quickly torn it away.  “Unless, you’re going to kill me.”
I could never—” Aramys inhaled sharply at the thought, “I could never kill you.”
Without another word, he strode away from her.  He heard Senya take several steps towards them before coming to halt.
“Let him go,” Aramys said, watching his back, “I won’t give up on him, not yet.”

(This is what happens when you return to a blog and search through the tags for the sake of memories. Also I really wanted to write about Nate seeing Mat’s cracked form.) 

(also also I wanted to write something for the blog again)

“Help.. me…. Please… It.. hurts…”

Those words would haunt Nate for a long time to come.

The Grumps had sent Nate and Mat out (with Ross) to try and find a corrupted gem that some human locals had called sightings about.

Nate didn’t really find the locals to be very interesting. They were confusing, if anything. One of them had started screaming ‘Illuminati’ the moment they had set eyes on Mat and then the peridot had gone to Danny to ask if it was some kind of weird human insult.

The encounter had given Mat a good enough excuse to avoid the locals. Nate was sure they didn’t appreciate the giant monster that had taken up their oceans for several months either so he also kept his distance.

But anyway, that wasn’t relevant. What was, was the corrupted gem they were looking for.

Nate had always loved a good fight, especially when he won them, but all that become null when he saw Mat swaying on his feet.

In the heat of the fight, neither Ross nor Nate had noticed the small web of cracks forming over the smooth, pretty surface of Mat’s gem.

Nate felt like his whole body had been wrenched into cold water and he surged forward to catch Mat before he hit the ground. Ross wasn’t far behind, eyes wide.

Nate knew what it was like to be cracked, but he had hardly ever seen some other gem be cracked. Especially not Mat.

He was always there, ready to defend Mat like he was ready to defend him.

He failed. Failure was not a thing any gem could truly take well. It was ingrained into them that failure was a horrible thing, that they shouldn’t ever fail.

“H-hey, Mat, don’t worry. It’s gonna be okay.” He reassured the peridot, who was clinging to him with oddly pale hands.

That was a thing humans did, wasn’t it? Go pale when they weren’t alright.

He didn’t dwell on it, his attention more focused on how Mat was whimpering, muttering, incoherent. It was an odd sight and it made Nate feel very unpleasant.

“W-We need to get him back to Dan!” Ross said, grabbing hold of Nate’s shoulder.

“Y-Yeah… We need to get him back to Dan.” Nate picked Mat up, not having any problem with lifting the smaller gem up. He was used to picking Mat off the ground when they fused (which he now realized they probably should have done) so it wasn’t that difficult.

It’d be nicer if Mat didn’t suddenly start shaking. Violently.

“Mat! Mat, calm down!” The peridot curled inwards, still rambling incoherently. Ross cast him a nervous look. Nate wondered if he was used to seeing gems react this way. He vaguely hoped not.

“W-We can’t take the warp pad. It could make him worse.” Ross murmured before Nate could ask why they were passing by the warp pad.

“What?”

“Just- trust me, Nate.” Ross answered back and Nate chose to let him lead the way.

The barn was in the distance when Mat poofed.

Nate let out a startled yelp, nearly dropping the green gemstone. Ross spun around, shoulders tensed.

“He poofed! I-I,” Nate tried to think back to moments before. Had he been holding Mat too tightly? Was that it?”

“I-It’s fine. He can’t really hurt like that anymore.” Nate knew that was true. He’d been cracked before, too. But he hadn’t just up and poofed like that. He didn’t remember doing it, anyway.

“I-I guess that’s good.” They kept walking, Nate holding Mat’s gem to his chest with a care he never really applied to anything.

It was when a sudden burst of light (and force that Nate had not expected) came from the gem that they stopped again. If it weren’t for the circumstances, maybe Nate would have been annoyed at the constant interruptions. Maybe.

“I-Is he reforming!?” Ross asked, startled. Nate stared as the form took shape. But, in the last moments before the details set in, the form wildly glitched. Like a broken video game.

Nate felt his whole form tense at the body that formed in front of him. It was like something out of one of those human horror movies.

Just much more real. And far more horrific.

It was Mat, but it was wrong. One of his eyes had become vacant, an empty black socket surrounded in a web of cracks that Nate felt sick just looking at. The cracks ran through his skin, splitting lips that couldn’t hide needle-like teeth as he croaked with that distorted voice.

“Help.. me…. Please… It.. hurts…”

Nate wanted to cry, scream, anything. He could only gape in horror. He was sure that if he had a stomach, he’d be vomiting. It was that horrible. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was Mat.

Please…. Help…. Me…. save… me…” Nate almost didn’t comprehend taking a step back. He didn’t notice Ross slowly summoning his weapon, but he was so transfixed on the sight in front of him that he probably wouldn’t have done anything about it if he had.

He felt his whole form tense even further as Mat turned to fully face him and his eyes were probably as wide as those of one of those ‘owl’ creatures he’d seen around the barn.

His entire forearm was missing, the texture of the end being similar to if someone just busted the forearm off an old stone statue. The inside of his arm was dark green, glittering like a dozen little crystals. Maybe if they weren’t supposed to be there, Nate would find them nice to look at.

Mat..” He breathed, horror mixed with terror and slight panic in the gut of his form.  No words could describe how horrible this sight was to him

“Save… me…. Please…” That voice was so clearly Mat’s, despite the crackly distortion. Nate found himself taking another step back as Mat took a step towards him.

He oddly felt like stepping away was the last thing he should be doing, but he couldn’t keep himself from doing it.

Swaying, as if he was about to fall over. But he didn’t. He kept taking slow, wobbly steps toward Nate.

He lifted out a hand (which honestly looked like it would crumble if Nate even tried to touch it) towards Nate. Maybe if his face wasn’t so horribly cracked, Nate would have been able to interpret it as a plea. But he was far too horrified.

He’d seen his fair share of nasty corrupted gems, but this was just ten times worse than any of them. It was a gem, still alive and conscious, but so deformed that it didn’t look right at all but still looked somewhat like it’s original form.

Maybe if Nate didn’t have such a strong friendship with Mat (he was part of his first healthy fusion after all) then maybe it wouldn’t be as horrible.

Ple-” The distorted voice cut off, thanks to a large shovel that had just spliced through Mat’s midsection. The form dissipated instantly.

“That… That was not pretty.” Ross said, looking up at Nate. He would have been a bit more colorful in his description, but the way that Nate looked so utterly horrified seemed to make him do otherwise. “You’ve never seen a cracked gem before, have you?”

“I… I was one…” Nate murmured quietly, his fingers running over the smooth surface of the gem on his throat. Sometimes, if he thought really hard, he was sure he could still feel the cracks. Almost like how a human could feel scars, except Nate couldn’t ever see any in his gem. “But… I’ve never seen one… Not like this.” He whispered the last part. 

Ross paused, seeming to suddenly remember that fact before he picked up Mat’s gem. “Right. Well, we really need to get him to Danny. Before he reforms.”

“Yeah…” Nate answered, hand dropping to his side as he shook off the oncoming memories. “Let’s go.

Stranded

I took a sip of that love of yours
And felt it burning down my throat
Like acid
But not the one you take when you’re feeling blue

I cut through these woods
To find you
But all I see
Are strangers from another time

I’m lost in myself and in you

You look as careless as ever
Just sitting over there
Not saying a word

Your silence hurts more than
the needles that pierce through my flesh and skin
Keeping me stranded in this lifeless place  

But at last you left
With a piece of me in your hands
With your blood running through my veins
Hugging me from the inside
Giving me the strength to leave
And find the place where our shadows met

- 铃铛

21.06.2017

anonymous asked:

I feel like if you consistently label everyone who doesn't share the same views as you a Nazi, it really diminishes when REAL racially driven events happen. It's like when people claim that being cat called is rape, or that words are violence. It hurts someone's case when they experience something that is valid because the words are thrown around so much. I've seen it on here as well. Anyone slightly right of far left is immediately labelled a Nazi.

But get this, the people in Charlottesville were literal Nazis. As in they were flying the Nazi flag and wearing the swastika. 

Nobody should police what we call ourselves.

If we want to label ourselves with the same words they use to hurt is, that’s our decision.

I don’t like the words from the male side of slurs, but queer hits home for me. It is who I am.

My sexuality changes over time, but one thing never does - my queerness.

And if you don’t want to see the word because it triggers you, I tag it. And in real life if you ask me not to say queer, I won’t.

But if you try to tell me I can’t call myself queer, or use it the word? I’m going to call everything queer. I am so many levels of queer.

You don’t like the word, don’t want to use it, then don’t. But you have no right to tell anybody what they can or can’t call themselves.

Day One Hundred and Thirty-Three

-A mother told her daughter that her haul of toys rang up well above her limit. She placed her hands on her face in shock. “Oops, I had no idea!” she said, in a voice which betrayed the fact that she did, in fact, have an idea.

-An older woman asked me if she needed to have her store credit card with her in order to use it. I told her yes, but this answer was clearly not what she had hoped to hear, as she cursed, turned, and handed me the store credit card she had in her hand the entire time. I only wish I knew what her circumstances were that caused this to news to be a problem.

-In a fantastic feat of accidental dexterity. I managed to launch an entire stack of dollar bills out of my register and send them flipping into the air. This stunt had potential to be impressive, but this chance was quickly blown, as the wad of ones followed their trajectory and slapped me solidly upside the face.

-Given the exponential incerase in technological development in recent times, it can sometimes be difficult for members of a certain generation to keep up with these advances. Such was the case of the woman who took my conveyor belt for a stationary counter and struggled to keep up as her purse was advanced away from her.

-A woman stubbed her toe on her cart and loudly announced, “I did not say a bad word, but that hurt very, very badly.” I may not know this woman, but I am proud of her and very grateful to have shared in this triumph.

-I make it a point to avoid discussing rude guests, but one woman today had such gall that I cannot mince words. She was perfectly polite for the duration of the transaction. She smiled and exchanged every pleasantly that could be expected with complete sincerity. However, she purchased $500 in Disney gift cards without once asking if I would like to accompany her and her family to Disney World. This kind of nerve, I simply cannot stomach.

“Stoneflesh” A Spell For Thicker Skin

Become the stones that break the bones so words can’t hurt you. Inspired by the alteration spell of the same name from The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim.

Originally posted by emlereo

What You’ll Need

  • A raw or polished carnelian, labradorite, or black obsidian
  • A black candle
  • A taglock from yourself, preferably hair.
  • Thyme
  • Jasmine incense

What To Do

  • Put your stone in front of you and your candle behind the stone.
  • Light your incense and cleanse the stone with its smoke.
  • Burn your thyme and taglock together.
  • Once both items have become ashes rub the ashes onto the stone and say/think “I am the stone that breaks the bones so words can’t hurt me.” as many times as you wish.
  • Blow out your candle and carry the stone on you afterwards to absorb any harmful or mocking words thrown at you.

anonymous asked:

"I made a quick icon for queer creators" if you wanna call aces lgbt fine i guess even though i disagree but why do you think they can reclaim q***r? the q slur is a slur that has been used explicitly against gay/bi/trans people. nobody has ever been called q***r for not feeling sexual attraction. like historically speaking that's just not something that has happened routinely (if at all).

This is what you basically just said: ‘You must be THIS oppressed to claim an identity.’

First off- I know a LOT of ace-spectrum people who have been not only been called ‘queer’ by oppressors but have also experienced sexuality-based oppression in the form of erasure, corrective rape, and coercive social conditioning. Just about every Ace I know finds themselves thinking ‘something is wrong with me’ because formative sex education does not include topics of non-attraction or sexual repulsion, and this lack of representation often leads to hazardous emotional issues as they grow up. I am literally talking about suicide. 

Your claim that they don’t belong in our community, even, actually is evidence that they deserve representation- simply because despite all the evidence that Aces experience sexuality-based violence and oppression, some of y'all can’t get your heads out of your asses to see that there’s fucking room for them. Every time I get someone hollering up my inbox about how 'aces aren’t queer’ I get about three dozen aces in chorus on how they’re queer as fuck. 

 Aces belong in the LGBTQIA community. Full stop. 

But let’s get to the real meat of this discussion.  I’m going to summarize my feelings on the matter of ‘queer’ being starred out like this. Because this shit has got to stop.

I’m gonna start off this part by saying that there are plenty of other people who have said this better than I have. 

Item A

Item B

Item C

Item D 

Item E

Item F

Item G

Almost all the words we use to describe ourselves come from a place of pain. Lesbian, dyke, and gay have all been used as slurs at one point in our history. Why are 'gay’ and 'lesbian’ acceptable labels, celebrated by our community, and the word 'queer’ is not? We reclaimed those, why can’t we reclaim this? If I can’t use 'queer’ because it used to be a slur, then you’re going to have to give up every word that has ever been used to describe us and start from scratch. 

Queer activism has historically been about taking the labels that have been put upon us and turning them into weapons. “I wasn’t recruited, I enlisted” was a classic slogan during a time that people were afraid to be near us, lest we 'recruit’ them into our unsavory lifestyle. Embracing a word used against us removes the pain it creates. Calling myself 'queer’ means that no one can use that word to hurt me. 

I will build my house with the stones thrown by those who seek to hurt me.

But let’s put history aside for the moment and talk about the future. As the study of gender and sexuality progresses, the definitions of terms become more gray and it benefits us to have a word that exemplifies the blurring of terms. I mean… am I really a lesbian if I’m genderfluid and experience the occasional attraction to people who are not female- even though I’ve only had relationships with women? And what about when I’m feeling masculine? Am I a lesbian then? Christ- what am I?

I’m fucking queer, friend-o. 

Queer is an incredibly useful term that encapsulates the vagueness of the relationship between gender and attraction. There are so many different terms in the LGBTQIA community that we often question which letter we are. 'Queer’ is a useful term for people whose intersectionality puts them in an indefinite area of identity. 

What better word to describe a person who does not fit than one synonymous with oddness? We gather together in our strangehoods and we are queered together. 

Up until the 2000’s, 'queer’ was a perfectly acceptable word to use in the community and was in fact used academically to describe the movement. The slogan was 'We’re here, we’re queer: get used to it.’ Queer as Folk. Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. It was THE WORD. Its use as a slur had been diminished to the point that very few people even equated the word with violence anymore- it was just the word that we used to describe ourselves. 

Don’t think I don’t see a correlation between the shunning of queerness and the rise of intersectionality. When we started seeing more gender nonconformists, more poc, people of religious inclinations, more variety of ability, of age, of mental state, variety of sexual activity and attraction. When we started seeing a rise in demand for representation, when we started calling for more diverse discussions, when we started calling out supremacy in our community. 

That was when I started seeing people rally against the word 'queer.’ Because it was these people, who were so radically not homogenous homosexuals, that were using the word loudly and proudly. And the LGBTQIA community can call itself as welcoming as it wants- but don’t think for a second that this wasn’t about gatekeeping. The battlecry of queerness just suddenly isn’t cool anymore, guys.

I’d be willing to believe that most people don’t see it that way. That they hear 'hey, 'queer’ is a slur and you shouldn’t use it’ and think that this isn’t just yet-another gatekeeping method. But that is where it comes from. It comes from not wanting a us to be proud of our ambiguity and our intersectionality. 

I’m not going to make anyone call themselves anything, but you can’t stop me from calling myself the one thing in a long, long time that fit so right in the seat of my soul. You cannot censor me. You cannot stop me. 

Just like you can’t stop Asexuals from reclaiming queerness. 

We’re here, we’re queer- and you can pry my queerness from my cold, dead, ace-loving, skyward fist.

To the one who thinks about the hurtful words that have been said to her from time to time:
On most days, you might be fine, but there are some moments that just remind you all over again of the hurtful words that one person told you. Whether it was a relationship, a friend, or even a family member or fellow church member…even though you may feel the hurt, the Word of God still has the final authority in your life. No words define you other than His.

For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart. - Hebrews 4:12

If you’re struggling to get past the reminders of the negative things that were said to you, pray and ask the Lord to show you how to replay His Words in your mind instead of theirs. You may have told yourself you could never forget what they said, but imagine if you could cling to the Word of the Lord in that way. Imagine it was His Word that was interwoven into your thoughts and not the words of others. People can talk about you behind your back, say mean or passive aggressive things to your face, or make you feel one inch tall without ever saying a word, but they can never take away who you are in Christ. They can never have more impact on your life than the King who calls you His daughter. There is nothing anything anyone says that can take away from what God has already said about you.

Written by @morganhnichols for #thedevoco

A song on this topic:
Listen to the new song, “Daughter of The King” by @jamiegraceh feat. @morganhnichols on YouTube!

Taehyung takes being mean to you too far. Part.5

[Part.1] [Part.2] [Part.3] [Part.4] [Part.5]


Originally posted by rapnamu

Taehyung’s p.o.v

I woke up to the scent of vanilla hitting my nose, the scent is pleasant and not too strong. Lying there still with my eyes closed, I felt slight movements in my arms, something that was warm and snuggly. I opened my eyes and looked at the figure I held in my arms, Y/N was lying on top of my left arm whilst I had my right arm draped over her waist, in other words - we were basically cuddling. I lifted my arm and froze there for a second to try and gather my thoughts.

Keep reading