SilveressBelle

“Why won't you marry me, then?” asks Heath, a bit forlornly, as they walk along the shoreline, both of their faces cast in the shadows of the setting sun. “Because it wouldn't be fair to you, my love,” Fenna answers. Her eyes are – as always – fixed on the shadowy form of her twin brother, Felix. Their honey-blonde hair is a shock of gold in the evening-light. Felix has run ahead, his shoes in one hand and the other clasped around his girlfriend's. Ella laughs, as she tries to keep up with the energetic boy. They're laughing and stumbling and getting both of their trousers wet by playing ridiculous games

Becoming Fang, the Memories of Kaint LaCroix. The rebellion against the seven cities tells many stories of many people. Tales of death and despair, of the lives of so many people that were lost, killed, who sacrificed themselves for what they believed in. But there were also tales of life and hope, of heroes, love affairs and friendships. The tale most told is the tale of five, seemingly unremarkable rebels and it begins - if anything ever has a beginning – and ends, with Kaint LaCroix. age 5 “Neomi, must you go?” Kaint questioned, his voice muffled against his caretakers neck, as she held him in a hug. It was quite unl

I will stay silent my silence is more terrifying than any shout could ever be My silence is the calm before I rip you apart with whispers. I'm going to be exactly like all the other girls because you were right when you tried to sell me my insecurity all girls are beautiful, except there are no exceptions. I am going to kiss the frog, unless the frog demands to kiss me, because he deserves it, because he is a frog and I am a princess so that means I should. I will have the magical endkiss Because some girls are damsels in distress and I can be a knight in shining armour just as much as anyone. I am a damsel in distress but hold your horse

Love is hello kitty plasters, and... having a sleepover with your best friend every single day doing the heavy lifting when something's in the way Sitting on your shoulders, because the podium's too far needlessly calling shotgun when you're driving the car my apples and your bananas, in the fruitbowl by the sink our inside jokes inside your skin, embedded there with ink my towel next to yours, stained with paint and bleach dying my hair a different shade, a different colour every week your face, dimpled, pimpled, dented through the years pressed into my hair, lips in my neck, my shirt in tears our plans with sheets and blankets always end

It has been said that the pen is more powerful than the sword and I've lived with that knowledge for all my life from when words were my only friends, nicer than the kids at school to when they gave me friends who understood how much I loved them I was shocked when I learned the power of words a story told in only six of them Baby shoes for sale. Never worn. I was amazed at the power of words humanity grasped in their small, metaphorical hands to be or not to be, that is the question Our first word is a memory, a milestone our last words are remembered, important The way we write them defines us messy, hurried, loopy, neat, slanted the wa

"Could you stop being an insufferable prick for just five seconds, please," Gemma growls, as she spins around to pin Jasper with a glare. Jasper shrugs, jostling his baggy, probably-thrift-shop-bought sweater off his shoulder, exposing his pretentious broken-heart tattoo he's got just next to his collarbone. Fucking hipster. "Be nice, Gem," Sean chastises, as he walks by, while balancing four cups of tea in his hands. Gemma grumbles something in return, before going right back to glaring at Jasper behind her roommate's back when he exits the kitchen. He stares right back at her, blue eyes pale and amused. The corner of his mouth turns up

Are you scared of me? Do you hold your breath? Stop breathing in the time it takes me to reply to a text? Do you tremble in fear, when I disagree with you, when I don't laugh at something you say? Are you scared of me? Are you frightened by the way I look at others the way you wish I'd look at you? Not knowing that, when you look away, I look at you with something that's more than you'll ever know. Are you scared of me? Just waiting to wake up on the wrong side of the bed, because there was no other body to stop you from rolling over? Waiting for the day I will reject the arms you wrap around me? Are you scared of me? Terrified t