Ms. Eda Is Like A Fairy Who Doesn’t Lose Hope, Doesn’t Give Up And Who Turns Everything She Touches

And God said "this is fine line"

Fine Line | Jurdan Quarantine AU

Chapter Rating: E is for Every Bad Idea You’ve Ever Had

Summary: This is how you turn a girl into a forest fire.

WC: 13,268

CW: mature themes, vulgar language, mentions of death, NSFW CONTENT READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

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Chapter 4- Watermelon Sugar (Verse 2)

[Jude POV]

Sleep falls away from me like water as I resurface into consciousness.

The first thing I know is that I am warm. The comfortable kind that feels like holding a steaming mug of tea between both hands on a brusque day. Or the soft spill of sunlight at the brink of spring.

Pleasant. Relaxed.

The second thing I know is that all of this is very suspicious. Usually, I’m cracked out of my dreams, a lightning strike straight into reality. Or otherwise dragged out of them like a deadweight through quicksand.

There is no peace in sleeping and there is certainly no peace in waking. Or if there is, I have never known it. Ultimately, this is what makes me open my eyes.

Continuar lendo

This makes life worth living

DONT MIND ME IM JUST HAVING A JUDECARDAN BREAKDOWN AT THE MOMENT

+ ROVINA CAI'S ART IS STUNNING

they’re my family alex

alright maybe but you’re mine

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Stellar collision

The Western horizon was on fire: hot pink turned into mauve, wild orange into gold, the bright colours fading into paleness, then darkness. It was the day they whisper their vows before the gods, both Raven and Damian believed that love was not what stood at the foundation of their pledge, at least not the kind that fate had in store for them. No, that’s what they want to believe, what truly mattered most at this point was peace, peace through political marriage rather than an overwhelming affection. Peace. Damian, the youngest son of King Bruce and the noblest of all of Gotham’s princes, living or dead. As King Bruce was only left with Damian and Richard. Raven, a demigod, sired by Trigon the Terrible and mortal Arella.

The fragile truce between Gotham and Azarath balanced on the tip of a blade, depending on this union of convenience. Kon-El, former suitor, was wearing a scowl that would freeze unquenchable fire from the House of Hades. She could feel Trigon’s dark eyes burning into her face, the harsh, singeing heat of a desert behind it. She wanted to run, but she was also afraid of him giving chase. What was the point anyway. Before coming to Gotham, she knew how to fly, wings spread wide, flying away, her shoulders have borne heavy burdens, heavy burdens of solid stone. On how she prayed to fly away from them, and roam the freedom of the sky, but her father had cut off both her wings and left her rooted to the ground. There would no longer mountain's peaks with the promise of wondrous views to keep. It all came to an end the day her father told she had been promised to Damian, prince of Gotham, the great, Gotham the glorious, Gotham the magnificent. She should be honored, but her thoughts and feelings on the matter were inconsequential as the advice of a woman in wartime.

A week later she found herself at her wedding feast. Brothers and sisters her husband had in plenty, raised to be warriors they fought during war to lose their short lives. Jason, Helena and Timotheos had fallen. She only met her husband her wedding day. He was reserved but polite and not overly perfumed, and when her eyes fell on him she thought of Narcissus. Narcissus, who had been unable to pull away from his own reflection in the pond, enchanted by his own beauty until death claimed him. Although the way her tutor had prattled on and on about Damian’s innumerable virtues, Raven had not expected him to be as radiant as a god. The sun-kissed skin stretched to wrap around muscles built from years of practicing complex military skills, broad shoulders and powerful arms, movements of disconcerting grace for one so large. His facial features had a frank and honest quality to them, bright and deep-set eyes, as green as spring leaves with the touch of Persephone, a Greek nose, full lips. Indeed he could be called a god. Reluctantly, tore her gaze from his beautiful face despite the beet-red blush spreading over her cheeks. She focused on her new family.

Sorry not sorry I’ve been reading a lot about Greek mythology and I couldn’t help but write a damirae smut. 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️ im working on it. Let me know if you like it.

@ravenfan1242 @chromium7sky @kallura-juniblade @shewhowillnotbenamed1 @tweepunkgrl

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I thought about this post far to often. I have now googled it just so I could reblog it and not miss it.

bite the vampire first to establish dominance

Literary classics: Arthuriana  

So many scholars have spent so much time trying to establish whether Arthur existed at all, that they have lost track of the single truth that he exists over and over. — John Steinbeck

Not that this soup needs any more religious imagery, but one thing the drives me a little insane is that Armand, who could be mistaken for an angel if you saw him under a shitty light bulb, was lovingly driving Daniel to suicide while Louis, who looked like a creature fresh out of the fires of hell, pushed him towards life. Something about God's easy promise of eternal rest vs the Devil urging you to live not because it's easy, but because it'd be a shame not to see how far you could get.

Please do your research! There is so much misinformation out there and a lot of lies.

Everyone should know the truth so please try to know as much as you can so you can spread awareness and help!

Free Palestine🇵🇸✌️

So please remember this house, and the red door, and the white picket fence, and the family that we were gonna raise together. And remember me. Because if you remember me, then you’ll remember that a nerdy guy, like me, who works at a Buy More, could make you happy.