life-and-death

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Friendly Reminder

It has been centuries since Mor was almost beat to death by her parents. It has been centuries since Azriel was locked in that cage. It has been centuries since Cassian had to scavenge for food. It has been centuries since Rhys' mom and sister died. Th IC has had CENTURIES to heal from there truama. They have already gone through one war and new what to do and expect.

Friendly Reminder

The inner circle had eachother when they were going through it. Azriel and Cassian risked their butts to save Mor. Rhys took Cassian in from the snow. Cassian and Rhys helped teach Azriel to fly. Rhys had his his family with him when he ascended as high lord.

Friendly reminder

It has been a few years since the Archeron sisters were starving to death in that cabin.

Nesta had no one to tell or help her after she was assaulted.

Nesta knows the inner circle doesn't genuinely care about her and actually resent her presence.

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fuck it, i need it

good things will happen 🧿

things that are meant to be will fall into place 🧿

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ajskajajdj

Say what you want about Neil's dad but he remembered Neil's birthday and that's more than a lot of people get

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Feyre: *stepping out from the shadows and into the doorway, holding a bat* Four

Az: *wakes up in the middle of the night to see Cassian an inch from his face*

Cassian: So we had this id-stop screaming-we had this idea

Az: Who's we?

Rhys: *directly beside his face* we had this idea

Az: Dear God, there's two of them

Mor: *sliding out from under the bed* three actually

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some fucking resources for all ur writing fuckin needs

* body language masterlist

* a translator that doesn’t eat ass like google translate does

* a reverse dictionary for when ur brain freezes

* 550 words to say instead of fuckin said

* 638 character traits for when ur brain freezes again

* some more body language help

(hope this helps some ppl)

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updated version

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i sketched a scene from Control when my brother was playing

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y’all be re-reading aftg every other day like-

I go through the five fucking stages of grief with an extra bucket of pain every time i read it how do you do this to yourselves

I just sit here and read every fanfic ever over and over

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will forever reblog

anyone else get peeved when people perceive Neil as hyper feminine and shy.....did we even read the same books

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lmfao the other way around too

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You know what would be SEXY????? If I could write again!!!!!!

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“but there’s no reason for this character to be gay” do u think irl gay people are gay to advance a plot dude

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love is stored in the found family trope

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Did i get an A on my latin exam, yes.

could i tell you a SINGLE piece of information about the language, no i could not.

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do you ever just SOB

Picture Kevin, three years old, running after his mother on awkward too-short legs in the park across the street from their home.  She laughs and grabs his little hands, swooping him off the ground in a great arc and he squeals and kicks his feet and shouts, “Again, mummy, again!”  He seems to glow in the sun, and Kayleigh had never thought that love could be like this, something so big and all-encompassing it feels like pain.

Picture Kevin, four years old, already learning to read; at first Kayleigh thought it was memorization of his favorite books, but one day at the library he finds a book with a frog and a toad and he sounds out words on his own.  Her heart swells with pride, and she kisses him on the top of his head and brushes back his silky hair and the frog and toad book finds its way home with them.

Picture Kevin, five years old, coming home from school bubbling with excitement day after day.  “I made a new friend, mummy.”  “Did you know that a long time ago Ireland was covered with ice, mummy?  And there were furry el-fants and huge deers and all kinda stuff that’s gone stinked now.”  “We drew today and I drew you and me and we were playing exy and the teacher said it was really really good.”  “I know maths now, mummy.  So much maths.”  After school he pulls out his legos and starts adding to the giant structure that has taken over one corner of their living room.  “It’s a castle, mummy.  It’s s’posed to be big.”

Picture Kevin, six years old, leading Kayleigh through the streets from shop to shop.  Gravely saying hello to the shop owners, who smothered their smiles and exchanged looks with Kayleigh over Kevin’s head.  He talked about fish to the grocer and dinosaurs to the bookstore cashier and space to the pharmacist and then ran into the green to kick a ball around with some kids from school.  “I like football okay, mum, but it’s not as much fun as exy.”  They put on music in the car and he sings along, not caring if he’s in tune, just singing for the pure joy of it.  Kayleigh wonders when she started becoming afraid of people who couldn’t even hear her; how many years had it been since she hadn’t cared what anybody thought?  She turns up the music and sings along too.

Picture Kevin, seven years old, in tiny exy gear, playing in little league.  He throws himself into it with abandon; sometimes the ball ends up in the little stands set up around the pint-sized court; sometimes he releases too late and it just bounces sadly off the ground; once it ricocheted off the low wall and whacked him in the shoulder.  He rubbed at it, glaring at the offending ball, but two seconds later he was laughing and leaping back into the fray.  He knocked a defender over, then stopped to extend a hand to help him up, and they hugged it out while someone else scored.  Afterwards the defender went out with them for pizza and they talked about space robots for a solid hour until Kayleigh was ready to scream.

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sometimes i think tumblr is more effective therapy than actual therapy..