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@lost-in-fictionn

Mer | 25
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Kit to Ty

Election day: misery, stress, hair-pulling, at least for Americans (and a lot of other people around the world affected by our politics!) So I thought I'd post a distraction; I hope it helps and doesn't annoy!

A while ago I posted the beginning of a letter from Kit to Ty, created for a Kickstarter backer. Here's the full text:

A letter from Kit to Ty, never sent.

Ty, Ty, Ty.

Your name looks strange written out like that. Like an abbreviation. But Tiberius would be so formal. I never think of you that way. Or, I suppose I should say, I never thought of you that way. Tenses matter in these situations, I guess.

It’s late, past midnight, and I’m sitting on the windowsill in my bedroom at Cirenworth. Jem and Tessa gave me one of the best rooms. Of course they did. It has a view out over the gardens. Sometimes I see the ghost of a dog there, a golden retriever I’m pretty sure, running in and out of the flowerbeds. He seems like a pretty happy ghost. I think about how much you like animals and how much they love you, because of course they do. But it’s too late; this dog passed away a long time ago. You probably couldn’t even see him. It’s too late for a lot of things, now.  

I’m still mad at you, and I don’t feel good about that. Maybe if I could forget, I could forgive. But I can’t forget that night you brought Livvy back. I’ll suddenly remember even when I’m thinking about something else. I’ll be in the middle of helping Tessa in the garden and suddenly I’ll turn around and I’m back in Idris. 

I remember I told you I loved you. I remember I told you I would help you, but not if you raised Livvy from the dead. Not if you did necromancy. But you wanted that more than you wanted me.

And I understand that. I’m not angry about that. Here’s what I’m angry about: when you brought Livvy back, you changed yourself. You made yourself a different person than the one I loved. I don’t know the person you are now. You took yourself away from me. I can’t forgive that. And you made me someone who has to keep a secret I never wanted to keep. I was raised by someone who had so many awful secrets, and when I started my life as a Shadowhunter I wanted to do it openly, and honestly. But now I’m just someone else with secrets I can never tell. Just like my dad.

It makes me angry, so angry. I want to yell at you. I wish you were here so I could yell at you.

Kit

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nestastits

I don’t understand why so many people think that because I love Nesta I hate rhys😭. Is hating him a requirement to be a nesta stan? Like no he’s my scrumptious pookie who made acotar so much more enjoyable for me.

Bro being a nesta stan while also being a rhys stan is SO hard. I can enjoy both characters at the same timeeeeeeee

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Leon: Where's Merlin?

Arthur: Doing stuff.

Leon: I don't like the sound of that. Where's Gwaine?

Arthur: Trying to stop Merlin from doing the stuff.

Leon: And Lancelot?

Arthur: Trying to stop Gwaine from stopping Merlin from doing the stuff.

Leon: I see. And what are you doing here?

Arthur: I'm supposed to stop you from stopping Lancelot from stopping Gwaine from stopping Merlin from doing the stuff.

Leon: You woke up too late to go with Merlin, didn’t you?

Arthur: Merlin didn’t wake me up in time to go with him.

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readerramble

The only scene I am living for, which can rival Tristan and Luna’s reunion, is one where Tristan and Dainn have the talk.

Lives will change. My squeal would be heard for miles. Every bookmark and tab in history will find its place in the book to mark the epic showdown.

I don’t want Tristan to be understanding. I don’t want Dainn to be anything but The Shadowman in that aftermath. As corny as it may sound I want The predator to speak with The shadowman and not Tristan and Dainn, at least for the most.

I want the hostility, the I-dont-like-you-but-cant-kill-you-because-it-would-hurt-lyla rage and the hilarity of it. And I want Dante to be the drama queen that fans the flames. It may not fit the plans Runyx has but a girl can dream.

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thyrell

a necromancer is just a really late healer

“you’re too late, doc, he’s…he’s already dead…”

*cracks knuckles* i didnt get my medical license revoked for nothing

i like idea of a necromancer that can bring back the dead but doesnt know how to cure the living so has to wait for someone to die before bringing them back

“hey doc do you have any splints I think I fractured my ankle”

*cocks gun* no but I’ll do you one better

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reblogged

Cardan is probably looking out a window right now.

He stares at a seemingly endless ocean with blocks of land spread over the horizon. He takes a breath. Two breaths. Three. Each one harder than the next. The King of Elfhame fights against the ache kneeding at his heart, tearing it to pieces. He attempts to push away the selfish need in his blood.

You did this to protect her, he tells himself.

You betrayed her because you love her, he tells himself.

You allowed yourself to love. Allowed her to love you. This is the cost.

Cardan is probably looking out a window right now.

He imagines his wife, hating him, but safe. Despising him, but safe. That is all that matters to him - that she is safe.

Danger and war builds in the distance. A storm he faces. Even if the need to have her close, to smell the scent of her hair, to touch the softness of her cheek or the sensible spot at the side of her neck, feels too much to bear. Even if it kills him.

For you, Jude.

It is all for you.

Jude is probably looking out a window right now.

She stares at a seemingly endless sky with brighter than ever stars. She takes a breath. Two breathes. Three. Each one harder than the next. The Queen of Nothing fights against the ache starting to make itself more and more difficult to ignore. She attempts to push away the thoughts that don’t let her sleep.

He did this out of spite, she tells herself.

He betrayed me because I killed his brother, she tells herself.

You allowed yourself to believe. Allowed him to deceive you. This is the cost.

Jude is probably looking out a window right now.

She imagines her husband, remembering her sometimes, but not really caring. Maybe thinking about her, but not really caring. That is all that bothers her - that he doesn’t really care.

Danger and war builds in distance. A storm he has to face. Even if she could’ve been close to him, smell the scent of him, touch the hard lines of his jaw or the sensible spot on his ear. It all feels too much to bear, kills her to be thinking these things.

Because of you, Cardan.

It is all because of you.

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jaredduck

guys who rarely wear suits look at least 385% hotter when wearing a suit while guys who usually wear suits look 451% hotter when wearing casual clothes trust me this is science

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bundibird

We all know this site is US-user heavy, but I wanna know how many are vs aren't from the land of capitalism.

If we gerrymander this, we can outvote the Americans. Only reblog this if you're not American. Reblog while they're asleep.

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