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Pointe
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I felt a quiet sense of power.
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Reaver
Nehn Lavellan belongs to mortalitasi
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The ship will automatically destruct in “T” minus five minutes…
Source: cinemaspam
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Their camp got attacked in the middle of the night or something, shh just roll with it
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notjustanarmor
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i.
the blood of your husband pools at your feet and the smell of death
(ragged and wet, screaming
as you rip the betrayal from his throat)
lingers in the air,
cloying and sickly sweet
ii.
you kiss him and his mouth tastes better dead
than it ever did alive. you kiss him
and you come away stained red like cherry wine,
and you smile (the first time
in ten years)
iii.
the blood (his blood) matts in your hair and drips from your knife
(from your robes, from your fingers)
and from your lips, the taste like metal on your tongue
iv.
you decide that revenge is a dish best served
haemorrhaging,
bleeding out on a stone floor,
not cold but
body temperature.
Κλυταιμνήστρα | m.c.p (via mythaelogy)
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violentwavesofemotion-deactivat
I want to love you wildly, fatally, like a beast-bite; a love dangerous enough to snare you between it’s jowls; a love capable of adorning you with puncture wounds. I want a love laced with burning eyes and bone-shakes; a desire nothing less than feverish. My passion is two inches from the cusp of overflow, yearning to spill from the confines of my body and wash over you like cloud-shadows. Please, hold your breath and let me kiss your forehead like a cold sweat. I want to love you unquenchably and insatiably, with the thirst of a wolf lapping throat-fulls of lamb’s blood.
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Manon Blackbeak, from Heir Of Fire (#4 in the Celaena Sardothien book series by Sarah J Maas).
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so i said,
“there is someone i could love
or destroy”
and love you i did
fruitless affections, the sweetest kind
your neck, my favorite feature
your veins
visible beneath white skin
could be severed if i saw fit
like pulling a grape from it’s vine
the simple pluck of a guitar string
all it would take
your beautiful bones
dust in my hands, shards in my mouth
your lovely fingers for me to keep, cherish, protect
you’re mine now
soft pink flesh to rip and bite and claim
you don’t even want to run
my delicate nemesis
my most beloved enemy
treasured possession, you possessed me
and the blood in my mouth
the blood in you pulse
faster, faster
where do you end, and i begin?
rip and cut and bite–run, don’t hide
keep your blood pumping
your heart hammering
these limbs tangling
our hair in knots
your lips in red
a love most savage | o.f.j. (via mythaelogy)
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sothasiil-archive-deactivated20
The resentment was real, if a little exaggerated. He loved her, of course, and deep in his belly he swelled with pride to be her brother, to be the blade to her bluster. But he’d never admit it. He’d rather curse her with every other breath than have her know how much he respected her - but even with all that love he felt her shadow like a weight, pressing down and down until it threatened to swallow him. He’d always been one of the twins. One of a set. One of a pair. One half of a whole. With Beth gone, it was harder to feel like himself. When he looked in the mirror and saw only square, thin features where her soft ones had been, it was hard to remember that he was even real. And when people forgot his name but remembered hers - Cat. Hawke. Mouse, when she was finally friendly enough with them - it smothered him. Deep in his belly, right next to the swelling pride, he was afraid of losing himself.
