theawesomeme-willmoveforward:

Seriously though, I’d let Chris Evans fuck me against a wall any day of the week.

… I wouldn’t judge you.

britannianking:

-Picks up a notepad-

'No, I pissed off Satan. So he choked me and burned my throat in the process.'

-He’s completely serious tho-

[ She’s about to question the story but he looks so damn serious ]

… Jesus fuck, how did you even— You know what.

I don’t wanna know.

Any idea when you’ll be better?

5 hours ago |  via |  source | 6
#IC
Patrick loved her. What did he love? Not her accent, which he was trying hard to alter, though she was often mutinous and unreasonable, declaring in the face of all evidence that she did not have a country accent, everybody talked the way she did. Not her jittery sexual boldness (his relief at her virginity matched hers at his competence). She could make him flinch at a vulgar word, a drawling tone. All the time, moving and speaking, she was destroying herself for him, yet he looked right through her, through all the distractions she was creating, and loved some obedient image that she herself could not see. And his hopes were high. Her accent could be eliminated, her friends could be discredited and removed, her vulgarity could be discouraged.

— Alice Munro, “the Beggar Maid” in Who Do You Think You Are
there’s a moment when love makes you believe in death for the first time. you recognize the one whose loss, even contemplated, you’ll carry forever, like a sleeping child. all grief, anyone’s grief, is the weight of a sleeping child.

— Anne Michaels, Fugitive Pieces

{ I gotta go home now, see ya l8tr }

23 hours ago | 0

britannianking:

fiertecanadienne:

image

… Are you alright?

image

-Blinks-

-He can’t talk do u think he’s alright-

[ Oh well ]

[ I’m not a damn psychic, how do you expected me to know ]

— Let me guess, grayfaces?

23 hours ago |  via |  source | 6
#IC

aphamerikos:

okay so i saw this post about girl gangs and

omg just imagine nyo veggie burgers and nyo red velvet pancakes in a girl gang together hell yeah

oh and i threw in russia too because shes such a babe

britannianking:

image

-Tries to talk-

…..

-Nothing-

… Are you alright?

23 hours ago |  via |  source | 6

                             the land of the freer   -   margaret williams
                 ❊ IndependentAxis Powers Hetalia roleplay blog  Canada 

➔ Based off Canadian History, stereotypes and culture.

➔ 8 years of roleplaying experience overall, 3 years of experience with Margaret.

➔ Often NSFW, mostly smut.

➔ OC and AU friendly.

➔ Script and lit.

➔ Non multiship.

➔ Always open for other fandoms.

➔ Multi-char friendly.

{ Directory } { Biography } { OOC }

Image source here

theawesomeme-willmoveforward:

fiertecanadienne:

Margaret hadn’t moved much from her spot, sitting with her back to the headboard, during the night, with the sole exception of the one time around 5am when she had to get up to fetch another bottle of wine and have the decency of — trying — to get herself a glass. The bottle now lain besides the two others under the bed, and the remnants of the glass were messily swooped to a corner in the kitchen after she dropped it.

In addition to not moving, she barely slept. Only dozed off, at odd hours and just long enough to dream — although dreams were more like memories and the memories now were more like nightmares —, and for her to completely lose track of time. If it wasn’t for the sunlight coming in from the window, she would absolutely have no idea it was day already.

When Gilbert came back, she’d fell in a light sleep again, her head bowed down but otherwise sitting up. She groaned with the low scrape of the door opening, shaking her head a couple times only to give up the feeble unconsciousness and stretch her neck, stopping mid-pushing her hair away from her face when she saw him on the doorway.

She stares at Gilbert’s face with wide, red-rimmed eyes from both abundance of tears and lack of sleep, not daring to open her mouth. Not now. The last thing she wants is to rekindle the fight that put them in these places to begin with. She stops, hands falling from their place on the back of her neck to fold on her lap as she just watched him. Trying to decide the best way to start talking with him again.

Swallowing hard, trying to breath around the lump on her throat, she decides words are overrated, she’s still buzzed, God knows when was the last time she actually slept before today (yesterday?), and any attempt at conversation would end with doors slamming. Again. So, instead of talking, she just keeps looking at him, and stretches out an arm, offering her hand. Now was just wait, and hope that he was up to make amends.

He had opened the bedroom door to check on her when it had become clear she wasn’t anywhere else on the house and practically froze on the spot when he realised he had woken her up. There was an instant panic reaction that told him to close the door so maybe she would think she had imagined it, but he forced himself to stay put, and once their eyes had met, he just couldn’t step away anymore.

God, she looked awful, and now he had drank and punched his anger away and was still partly drunk because he hadn’t had the time to sleep it all off, he was feeling terribly guilty for having argued with her. He still thought it was in his right to do so and that he wasn’t wrong, but he should have handled the situation better. He stared at her and bit his lips, not knowing what to say or even if she wanted him to say anything. This had just been another proof he wasn’t cut for this ‘boyfriend’ job at all, he just had no idea where he was stepping, ever, it was so frustrating, and she was probably more than sick and done with him at this point, he just knew and oh God, why wouldn’t she just say something already?

When he saw her extending her hand, it was as if his heart had stopped. He stared at her with wide eyes, not knowing what to take of it. Was it a peace offer? A momentary truce? What? He found out that he didn’t care, just completely relieved and overwhelmed that she was calling him back and not finishing pushing him away like he had feared.

With a strangled noise, he ran to the bed and completely ignored her hand, instead leaping on the bed to bury his head on her belly, arms passing around her waist so he could clutch the back of her shirt. He didn’t know why he had done that, he was still drunk and wasn’t thinking, he just wanted to be close to her, make sure she was really there and wasn’t going away again, comfort her and be comforted at the same time.

"Please… Don’t ever do that again, please…"

Had he looked closer to her, he was sure to notice the shivering. She couldn’t stop trembling, out of sheer fear that for some reason her gesture would be the wrong one, that he’d turn on his heels and leave her again, this time to only come back for the few things he’d brought and they’d had the free time to arrange. The longer he took to respond, the harder she trembled on her spot.

The moment he leaped forward and over her, she didn’t even tried to hold back the broken sob of relief that left her mouth. She bowed down, banding her arms around his shoulders and clinging to him like her life depended on it. She kept caressing his back, shoulder, head, everywhere she could reach, as if to guarantee he was truly, really there.

Her heart skipped a beat with his words, and she used the little strength she had to move on his arms, downwards to come and face him, cupping the sides of his head with both hands and pressing her forehead to his. It wasn’t until she tried to speak that she realized she was crying. She kept stroking his cheeks with her thumbs, making a strangled whimpering noise when she noticed the bruise there. She circled th surely tender spot, feeling her chest constrict.

"I won’t. Ever again, I promise, I promise”, she chocked back a sob, squeezing her eyes shut tight. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” Repeated almost like a prayer, until her voice died down in a loud whimper. “Don’t leave. Please. I promise I won’t do it again, just don’t leave me.”

1 day ago |  via |  source | 16
#IC

kashmiru:

a egg is hatching !

everyone who reblogs this will get a pokemon in their submit box

i promise i will send a pokemon to each person who reblogs this

if i missed u feel free to yell at me

i will use a randomizer to determine what pokemon u hatch

thank u

1 day ago |  via |  source | 11654

theawesomeme-willmoveforward:

fiertecanadienne:

theawesomeme-willmoveforward:

psa don’t ever rp with fiertecanadienne, because she will make you cry from all the feels

Love you too

:CCCCCCCCCCCC

That’s not what I said

But u love me don’t try to pretend otherwise

1 day ago |  via |  source | 8

theawesomeme-willmoveforward:

psa don’t ever rp with fiertecanadienne, because she will make you cry from all the feels

Love you too

1 day ago |  via |  source | 8
On Canada: “The exotic has to be modified here - not too authentic, not too spicy or too smelly, just enough to remind others of a fantasy elsewhere.”

— Rawi Hage, COCKROACH