When people say “recovery”, you typically think of returning to how you were before your illness. But there is no going back. You do not merely recover, but reinvent yourself. You become something completely different from what you were before.

(via youhelpmeillhelpyou)

like for a small generic starter?

He doesn’t let us kill that much anymore - only to defend him, and sometimes to defend others. We don’t understand his mind yet. But we understand his strength. So we obey.

beautiful eyes

the wolf among us || starters

❝ Is that a threat ? ❞  ❝ These lips are sealed . ❞ ❝ It is better to be feared than loved .❞  ❝ I’ve seen the way you look at ___ , okay ? You’re not foolin’ me .❞ ❝ You’re not as bad as everyone says you are . ❞ ❝ Anyone ever tell you you got a big fuckin’ mouth ? ❞ ❝ Whatever . I’m too out of it to get into it . ❞ ❝ We all have our parts to play . ❞ ❝ You can’t change the past . ❞ ❝ ____ , I’m gonna break your fucking face . ❞ ❝ I’ve heard stories about you . ❞ ❝ In some tiny little bottled up way , deep inside … you kind of enjoy it when things go wrong . ( Because it gives you an excuse to just … stop pretending ) . ❞ ❝ Life is easier with friends . ❞ ❝ Well I’d appreciate it if you’d fuck off . ❞ ❝ But no , hate’s the wrong word . They fear you more than anything . ❞ ❝ I know you like this whole ’ lone wolf ’ thing you got going for yourself . ❞ ❝ I wish I could have seen it. ❞ ❝ I’ll see you around . ❞ ❝ You almost looked peaceful . Except you’re lying in a dirty alley . ❞ ❝ Just … try not to be like ( yourself ) … ❞ ❝ Pardon the intrusion . I wasn’t aware this was a munchkin’s house .❞ ❝ I didn’t realize you were the bitch of the bitch . ❞ ❝ Hey , what are your plans now ? ❞ ❝ I’m not yours to lose ! ❞ ❝ Blah blah … blah blah blah . ❞ ❝ Are you saying you need a friend right now ? You can trust me . ❞ ❝ People are scared of you . I mean , look at your hands . ❞ ❝ You looked like when you take an action figure and bend it’s limbs the wrong way . ❞ ❝ But at the end of the day I’m still the bad guy . ❞ ❝ Everything used to be so simple … we had a beginning , a middle , & an end . ❞ ❝ When we suffer , we do it in silence . ❞ ❝ You should worry about your own fucking situation . ❞ ❝ I’ve made mistakes . ❞ ❝ You do what you want … you always do what you want . ❞ ❝ I’m glad you’re not dead . ❞ ❝ We need to do things the right way ! ❞ ❝ You’ll pray to any god who’ll listen that your mother never shit you into this fucking world .❞ ❝ Wait a minute … someone’s watching . ❞ ❝ I know it’s dangerous , but I’m not helpless . I can take care of myself . ❞ ❝ Not now , not now , shhhh , the grown ups are talking. . ❞ ❝ Out of my way ! I’ll show you how it’s done ! ❞ ❝ Do you want the Big Bad Wolf to take you away ? ❞ ❝ That was about 8 on the asshole scale … ❞ ❝ Cut the bullshit & quit wasting my time . ❞ ❝ This was really the wrong day to try & pull this shit ! ❞ ❝ You’re a monster ! A fucking monster ! ❞ ❝ You understand wanting to protect what you care about , don’t you ? You’d do anything . ❞

desire to plot & thread is strong.

His voice feels nonexistent, his missing fingers no more than stubs, dark curls matted with   b l o o d, sweat and his own t e a r s. His tongue limp in his mouth, his eyes dead in his head, body cold and mind numb; it doesn’t feel like there is ever an end. He lives in storm and strife. He’s a thousand mile an hour hurricane wilted down to a gust of air, his power taken and sapped.

   Still, Miles hides. Wherever his feet lead him, his eyes seek places to hide and    his body squeezes into gaps and crevices to escape. All he does is R U N.    The hand against his mouth swallows the gasp, fingers digging into the soft flesh    of his cheeks, body quivering and curled in on its self, pressing further into his    hiding spot. Where once brilliant and bright, he falls to blood-splattered and black, blue,    black again. The panic spreads like a wildfire, licking at his insides and forcing the    distressed whine out of his mouth, muffled by his mutilated fingers. Eyes wide,    terrified, mouth dry and tongue heavy, his mind screams one thing at him, one simple    command that he cannot deny: SURVIVE.

telling me that you want to explore the possibilities of shipping with me isn’t forcing a ship with me. sending me a ship-related meme to test the waters isn’t forcing a ship on me. writing me a starter and having your muse refer to mine as a significant other / and or insinuating that my muse feels something for him/her without discussing it with me first is totally forcing a ship on me. so please, send me all the ship memes you want, come to my inbox and yell about shipping our muses; i love that shit.

browsing the wiki for kicks but then wait

You are not a fighter; to navigate the horrors of Mount Massive and expose the truth, your only choices are to run, hide, or die.

Come along and follow us, Come and follow faster.

Come along and follow us, Come and meet the master.

Hurry up and follow us, Hurry if you dare to.

Soon the dark will swallow us…Follow if you dare to.

*cuddles up close to you* *puts my mouth by your ear* I NEED CONSTANT REASSURANCE THAT YOU STILL ENJOY ME AND FIND OUR RELATIONSHIP APPEALING

send a "muah" for my character's reaction to yours kissing the nape of their neck

blewthewhistle:

statiicitch:

    Waylon slips further down on the couch, nearly being consumed by the cushions in his lazy decline when Miles mumbles something and he leans a little closer to hear what he said. He rolls his eyes but runs his fingers through his hair again nonetheless. The boys when they were both little liked when he’d done this before bedtime, but likening Miles to one of his kids would probably be insulting to him so he keeps this to himself.

   "My legs going asleep.“ He says while yawning over the last word. His hand starts to slow as he drifts closer towards sleep.

   The comfort, it wasn’t something he usually would seek out; he would protest, push away, swear and be Miles. No one would touch him, only if he said so and even then he called the shots, but Waylon — he’s become familiar, and that hand in his tangled hair eases him ridiculously. Even so, his eyelids drift until Waylon speaks, then he groans a complaint and reaches a hand up.

   “F'ck you, m’ not tha’ heavy,” his words come breathy and he pats at Waylon’s chest, only to wake him up. He’s not being selfish; he’s being Miles.