-
the vmin brand of hand-holding
for @jimimn
+
-
Jack kissed him so carefully that August thought he would fall to pieces. Kissed him with the weight of knowing the price of risk. Then he gazed back at August like his heart was already breaking.
It was the same face that Jack had made on the roof, in the middle of the night, when they rolled in the grass, when he sat back with August’s blood and ink on his hands, when his face was lit orange with flames, when he’d opened the door to Rina’s room, when he stared across the gym at the homecoming dance, when he pulled him from the river and breathed him back to life.
Jack had been waiting. He’d been trying. He was scared. There were tears in his eyes and it took August’s breath away.
-
@literatureladies mission 06: gift exchange, for @parrishes
“I have become something wonderful. I have become something terrible.”
-
1.1k celebration; for @venka tpw or
warcross+ @wherepoetsdie tpw orgrishaverse series❝ WAR DOESN’T DETERMINE WHO’S RIGHT. WAR DETERMINES WHO REMAINS.❞
-
@asianlitnet event 01: favorite book — girls of paper and fire by natasha ngan
she makes me feel reappeared. reimagined. her touch shapes me, draws out the boldness that had been hiding in my core.
-
lit meme: ten series or books
vi. six of crows duology by leigh bardugoNo, little brother. No one is stronger. You’ve cheated death too many times. Greed may do your bidding, but death serves no man.
-
@creatornetwork pride event: aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe
This was what was wrong with me. All this time I had been trying to figure out the secrets of the universe, the secrets of my own body, of my own heart. All of the answers had always been so close and yet I had always fought them without even knowing it. From the minute I’d met Dante, I had fallen in love with him. I just didn’t let myself know it, think it, feel it. My father was right. And it was true what my mother said. We all fight our own private wars.
-
She had not always known the shape of him.
She had loved the version of him she’d constructed for herself. She had admired him. She had idolized him. She had adored an idea of him, an archetype, a version of him that was invulnerable.
…
But now she knew the truth, she knew the realness of Altan and his vulnerabilities and most of all his pain … and still she loved him.
She had mirrored herself against him, molded herself after him; … She had emulated his cruelty, his hatred, and his vulnerability. She knew him, finally knew all of him, and that was how she found him.
(The Poppy War, R.F. Kuang)