madness and reason

Why Madness and Reason?, you ask. As Andre Gide once said, "Only those things are beautiful which are inspired by madness and written by reason." He also said "Be faithful to that which exists within yourself," and "The color of truth is gray."

So here's to being beautiful and faithful and true. Welcome.
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Because obviously 30 year old men are men, and 30 year old women are girls.

Get it together, society. I’m literally too old for this.

Hard core crying right now. The best ship of all is friendship. And I’m majorly shipping Tashley right now.


Mae Martin is the best! :)

(via rememberthstars)


This is one of the best posts I’ve seen in a while

(via rememberthstars)

What if verbal abuse left the same scars as physical abuse? Would it be taken more seriously?

Unfortunately, that might be what it takes…images such as these that show that sticks and stones and words can all hurt you.

This is powerful, moving, and a strong reminder that emotional abuse leaves scars behind, even if they can’t be seen.

Trigger warning for bullying, abuse and domestic violence.

Southern as sweet tea, if only for a day. (at Rocky Mount, North Carolina)




working on a piece to go with this 

the companion piece will be male, named Destruction. i’m hoping it turns as well as this has

(via vengefulbarista)

Asker ilenn Asks:
prompt: Imriel/Lucius, an AU in which Lucius came back to Terre D'Ange with Imriel at the end of Scion.
madreason madreason Said:


Six months until Helena’s mourning period was over, and Lucius had been granted three of them to help see Montreve home. His father had been swayed by the potential of stronger trade ties to Terre d’Ange; Helena’s father had been glad to take hold of his city again, without having to push the city’s newfound loyalty to Lucius; Helena had agreed that Lucius owed it to the D’Angelines to serve as something like an honor guard after all they had given in Lucca’s name.

But Lucius… Lucius was tired, bone-deep, and uneasy in his skin even though he was now its sole inhabitant, and his mind kept turning to the memory of Imriel’s hand combing through his hair the night before that last battle, Imriel’s low voice spinning an impossible tale by the firelight, Imriel’s chapped lips returning a playful, daring kiss.

Imriel’s eyes, solemn and dark, as Gallus Tadius dropped his death mask and consigned himself to hell, and the bronze echo of wingbeats coming from far away.

So Lucius took his three months and ran, all the way to Terre d’Ange. Montreve was quiet on the journey, brooding, and for once Lucius didn’t push. It was strange to hear Montreve tell his experience of the siege after his reunion with his family, such a different angle on Lucius’s still-disjointed memories, and when the Comtesse excused herself Lucius followed, leaving Montreve alone with his foster father.

But Lucius couldn’t sleep, so when he heard Montreve come upstairs some time later, Lucius slipped out of the guest room to knock on his door.

The man who answered the door, who invited Lucius in, was easy in a way Lucius had never seen. Still worn and thin, but settled, rid of some of his ghosts and newly confident. Lucius wanted that, desperately.

He breathed out “Imri—” and threw himself into Imriel’s arms, and Imriel caught him.

(If you want to prompt me, check out this page.)

I ship Imri/Lucius SO HARD.