This is gay culture.
It’s really not
This is gay culture.
This is REALLY important. There were a lot of comments like “this is teen culture” …. no its not.
This is gay culture.
It’s really not
This is REALLY important. There were a lot of comments like “this is teen culture” …. no its not.
Experience: Learning the right way to connect the dots.
This is the best representation of something I have been trying to explain to people for years!!!! Saving this to my phone so I can routinely pull it out when I need.
long list of favourite films:
Pride and Prejudice (2005), dir. Joe Wright
I wonder who first discovered the power of poetry in driving away love? I thought that poetry was the food of love. Of a fine stout love, it may. But if it is only a vague inclination I’m convinced one poor sonnet will kill it stone dead.
thinking about how if you’d asked me at the beginning of this year what my top advice for writing would be, i’d have said cultivating space to daydream, and how i have since then utterly neglected that. i feel the effects of daydreaming less on the page, and especially when i’m trying to outline.
daydream!!! make space for it! encourage it! nothing encourages story like a brain with free reign.
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Can we just appreciate how Brutus smiles much more often.
I absolutely adore Brutus and Pixie
They real bro.
And they’re absolutely amazing!!!
THEYRE. REAL. ??????
Omg
elizabeth in the beginning of the book: fuck mr. darcy
elizabeth in the end of the book: i gonna fuck mr. darcy
Writing fanfiction like:
Me: i cant do it. I cant-
My brain: STFU. DO IT. cuddling! hand holding! Picnics! Long walks on the beach! Sunset! Hugs! Soft! Pure! Wholesome!
Me, beginning to type: smut, pwp, fwb, sexual tension, sensuality,
My brain: no. NO!
Me, panicking, yet continuing to type: IT’S NOT WORKING
My brain: get your hands off the keyboard you fool. *sigh* now. let’s start small. How about hand holding.
Me, typing: “as A’s nimble fingers traced along B’s calloused palms, all B could think was, god what those fingers could do, how they’d feel inside-
My brain: STOP.
Anyway so i cant write fluff
my favorite thing about humanity is that we saw multiple creatures and were like “wouldn’t it be cool if that had wings” and we were right every single time
It’s kinda cool how someone can just pop into your life all of a sudden and become so important to you within such a small amount of time. I think that’s what makes life so interesting though. There’s always a reason to be hopeful for the future because you never know what good things will come your way next.
Im-
one of the most amazing things that has been said to me in therapy is that self esteem doesn’t exist.
and that floored people and the psych went onto say that what she meant was that self esteem is a concept that actually includes a vast array of things and labelling them all as one thing is really limiting and prevents actual improvement
you could have real strong pride in the things you create and hate your body
you could hate your creations but also want to share them with people
you could not hate yourself at all but not take care of yourself, engage in reckless self endangerment
thats all bundled under ‘self esteem’ but saying ‘i need better self esteem’ doesn’t mean anything
whereas if you say ‘i need to work on ways to keeping myself safe, refusing to act on destructive urges’ or ‘i want to be in a place where i believe compliments trusted people give me’
thats concrete, thats a goal.
having it said in therapy helped a lot of people in my group stop saying ‘i have low self esteem’ and start specifying about the actual issue they have
Wow, that is so, so helpful.
you’ve survived everything you thought you wouldn’t. be proud
Mafia Modern AU
“Ma wants me to get married to some girl,” Cassian sighed.
“Is that new?” Rhysand huffs, violet eyes dragging over to his brother.
“It’s arranged already. And I’m getting married to an Archereon girl.”
Warnings: NSFW, Explicit, Mentions of Sensitive Subjects
Words: 2.1K
A/N: This story is slightly based off the book, Bastiano Romano, amazing book, totally recommend. Credit for the last name, Macar, to featherymalignancy (who has the best fics). Lemme know if you want to be tagged, or don’t want to!
Masterlist || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter
LOVE IT
Uhhh this is kinda long and took me FOREVER to write which was v annoying. Disclaimer: stole a line from Grey’s Anatomy what’s new
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~Feyre~
I’m aware that pacing is one of my bad habits. My ex told me all the time how it drove him crazy to watch me go back and forth, back and forth. Most of the time, I can catch myself doing it and stop.
But right now, I think I’d find a way to pace even if I were chained to a tree.
Because I’m so freaking nervous about Rhysand coming over that I’m practically coming out of my skin.
Which is ridiculous, because the man has seen me naked, for gods sake.
He’s done more than just see, too.
And yet the thought of him staying here, sleeping next to me all night, has me ready to run for the hills. Somehow, sharing a bed is more intimate to me than having sex to me.
It’s fucked up, I know.
But the last man I shared a bed with…
There was a level of trust there, and it was broken. And knowing that this is the only way to rebuild the ability to give that trust doesn’t make it any easier.
I also know that if I go downstairs, I’ll end up drinking myself stupid to make this easier, so I’ve asked Rhysand to just meet me up here. And to make myself even more miserable, I’m early.
I mean, I’m always a few minutes early, but I somehow forgot we decided to meet later than usual and got here an hour ago.
Which gave me plenty of time to start freaking out.
A knock on the door snaps me out of my nerves-induced pace, and I tiptoe to the door and look through the peephole, both excited and anxious when I see Rhysand there.
Just like last week, he’s wearing dark pants and a thin white shirt that does nothing to hide the body underneath. I think he does it to drive me crazy, honestly, because the sight of all that tattooed muscle-
“Are you going to let me in?”
Shit.
I swing the door open, already blushing, and say, “Sorry.”
He looks down at me, full lips pulling into a smirk. “Hi, Feyre.”
The way he says my name is somehow so full of innuendo it threatens to send my cheeks scarlet, but I say politely, “Hi, Rhys.”
I can’t wait for the next part, this was SO GOOD. all the best for your exam, hon! 🖤
Part 1 // Part 2
Masterlist
"Child, stop fidgeting already. It is immensely improper, especially since you will end up tearing all that tulle up!" Elena chided, and clamped her hands down on Jude's own, effectively stopping the frantic movements of her fingers.
Jude was, quite understandably, panicking. In less than an hour, she was to be married to a stranger, and become his trophy wife for the rest of her life. This man was very easily twice as old as her, and half as smart, and she wanted to kill someone for her circumstances.
However, this raging, determined part of her was small, as compared to the gaping void right next to her heart. That void had decided that Jude was better off marrying some human and dying here, without seeing her real husband's beautiful face ever again.
She could feel her real self teetering on the edge of becoming lost altogether, and that thought, along with the impending wedding, was making dread pool in the pit of her stomach. Her mouth was dry, her head pounding, and she couldn't, couldn't—
Breathe, she reminded herself. Breathe.
"You know your cues, girl. Follow them. Don't try anything stupid. We know where you are. Always," her grandmother ordered, click-clacking her way to where the ceremony was being held across the huge hallway.
As she was fiddling with her bouquet, and someone adjusted her veil, she heard the music change, and began numbly following her grandmother's instructions. The dress was an elaborate, big thing that made walking difficult, and the veil didn't help.
Her heart hurt, and broke once again as she let herself remember his face. And she wished.
To see him one last time before she became a husk of herself after getting married. To joke with the Bomb, and speak with the Roach. To wear Nightfell once, and fight.
She wished.
She felt, more than saw, the shift in the air, and her head snapped up in the middle of the aisle, feet stopping dead.
And there he was. Standing between herself and the altar, his back facing it. Dressed in his usual black, the crown resting askew on his head, he looked so familiar and so like home, Jude couldn't stop the sob that escaped her lips.
"Cardan," she whispered, and he gave her a strained smile. His eyes were dark with fury, but it wasn't directed at her.
It was directed at the rest of the room.
He stalked to her, footfalls determined and steady. When he was close enough that she could feel him breathing, he took her hand in his.
And that point of contact ignited the fire inside her, and her lips curled in a snarl. He nodded, once, before stepping back and coming to stand beside her.
The noise around her hit her in the face like a brick, but she ignored it.
She was burning, burning, burning with rage. At herself, for nearly giving up, and at everyone else, for taking advantage of her vulnerability.
Ripping her veil off, she threw it and the bouquet to the floor. She yanked out the useless pins just barely holding her hair up, and tore the dress into a shorter version with her bare hands, the anger fuelling her.
She heard her grandmother gasp and stand, screaming obscenities at her, but the people all stayed back, thanks to the Bomb and the Roach, who looked prepared to kill anyone if they made a move to get to Jude.
Done with fixing her clothes, she took the dagger that Cardan handed her absently, and rid herself of the infernal tracker.
When she looked back up, her husband was already looking at her.
"Take me home, Cardan," she said, spine ramrod straight, her back to her 'family'.
Maybe some day, she would come back and see to the repayment of her treatment. But right now, she needed to go home.
"With pleasure, my darling god," his voice rolled over her, and she couldn't help but reach up and yank his face down to kiss her.
Then, they were running, the Bomb and Roach right behind. Within moments two ragwort horses stood before them, and she pulled herself onto one, Cardan sliding behind her.
And then they were in the sky.
As she felt the wind stinging her cheeks, she laughed, the sound wild, and carefree.
Turning, she looked into his eyes. He brought up a hand to cup her face, the other wrapped tightly around her waist, and pressed their foreheads together.
"Never again, my lovely Jude," he whispered.
"Never again."
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AAAAAH OH MY GOD THIS WAS SOOO GOOD!!!