#Excerpts

[feral-ballad]

Zehra Naqvi, from The Knot of My Tongue: Poems and Prose; “Dear Baba”

[danimia]

By the time I finally bothered to take note of my surroundings again, I was stepping through my front door, greeted by the most amazing smell ever. “Hi, honey!” I called out, already salivating. “I’m home and it smells fantastic!” “Oh no,” I heard from the kitchen, and my thoughts sharpened, the mask which held my understanding of tone and emotional context slipping smoothly back into place. I didn’t think Chris had been serious, but just in case I was wrong, I kept a worried look on my face, where it would be the first thing he’d see—right up until I saw him emerge from the kitchen with a grin, wearing an apron and oven mitts over his clothes. “Am I the generic fifties’ sitcom housewife, now?” “Never,” I assured him, beaming up at him with the comfort of falling into the everyday rhythms of our relationship. It was like getting to be your favorite character in your favorite show, except it was your life, and it was real. I toed off my shoes and hung my purse on a peg. “You’re obviously a generic fifties’ sitcom househusband.” I let just a little bit of a cheeky grin show, an indication that I was continuing the joke, and my delightful husband did not disappoint. “I don’t think they had generic sitcom househusbands in the fifties, though,” he protested, pulling off the oven mitts and dropping them on the table as I came up for my hug. “Aren’t you supposed to be a history professor, or something?” I teased, standing on my tiptoes to brush his nose with mine as he leaned in for a kiss. “I feel like you should have better than an ‘I don’t think’ here.” He snapped at my nose, his teeth closing a scant millimeter from my skin, and I squeaked, mostly intentionally. He laughed, and the feel of it against my chest sent a shiver down my spine. “Well I think you’re causing problems on purpose,” he said, inadvertently echoing a joke I’d made to myself, earlier that day.

Just a little excerpt from chapter 3 of my WIP :D

Xena’s Share Day

this one’s for me :) do me a favor, open up your document, search for the word “teeth” and post whatever you find here !! anything to do with teeth. indulge a bitey creature like me :)

[fragments-of-love]

Always and forevermore you will be mine my beloved, for we can never truly be parted.

You are my other half in every possible way and our souls beat together as one, just as wildly as our hearts when our bodies collide.

[thepathetickind]

everything that was ever there faded away

by laurenmaerie, sunset heartache

[icecreamwithjackdaniels]

"Hell is naked before him, And destruction hath no covering."

— Job 26:6 (KJV)

[speedyphilosopherpanda]

I thought we were supposed to make more memories and have playful banter around the city? I thought we were supposed to stay by each other's sides? I thought we were supposed to be saving up for our future together? I thought you were going to introduce me to your dad? I thought you were going to make me your first lady? I thought we were supposed to get married and have cats and dogs? I thought, I thought; I overthink, and overthink.

— excerpts from the letters I'll never send

[soldier-of-mine]

[howifeltabouthim]

'. . . I take it as something deep and serious and not just a piece of momentary madness.'

Iris Murdoch, from A Fairly Honourable Defeat

[feral-ballad]

Maya C. Popa, from Wound is the Origin of Wonder: Poems: “Wound is the origin of wonder”

[fairydrowning]

– Noor Unnahar, Instagram account "noor_unnahar"

[TEXT ID: / [Lemons] / My father's mother loved lemons. Years after her passing, / we run out of everything, but never / lemons. / Nothing else shelters grief / better than memory. / It's my father way of saying, / even in your absence, you will be / cared by me. / END ID]

[secretsiwhispertothemoon]

Frida Kahlo, from a letter wr. c. November 1933, featured in The Letters of Frida Kahlo: Cartas Apasionadas

[dionyrtal]

Vertigo Peaks by Dion Anja 2. Return II by Dean Gioia

[maryqos]

coco mellors, cleopatra and frankenstein.

[derangedrhythms]

Rebecca Perry, Beauty/Beauty; from 'Kintsugi 金継ぎ'

[fromdarzaitoleeza]

Miranda July, The First Bad Man

[wordedarchive]

It was April and she was the saddest thing under the sun.

Khush Bakht via wordedarchive