Leah Careloc

More personal; less fandom. AO3 & Instagram

[reimenaashelyee]

Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble. Fillet of a fenny snake, In the caldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog.

Witch’s Brew series. These animal parts actually refer to plants! <<Buy prints and merch @ straungewunder shop>>

[darkphotographs]

Dark

[autumncozy]

[micdotcom]

Watch: John Cena continues, “So, let’s try this one more time. Close your eyes.” 

[thatsthat24]

I wanna hug him. This was beautiful.

[0fficiallyleah]

Do people still read books on wattpad?? Like is that still popular?

[onlinecounsellingcollege]

I still love the people I’ve loved, even if I cross the street to avoid them.

Uma Thurman (via fearlessknightsandfairytales)

[sarah-bk]

‘Through Bitter Chaos’ by Sarah-BK Tumblr | DeviantArt | Facebook | 500px | Flickr

[wnq-music]

I always had a repulsive need to be something more than human.

David Bowie, qtd. in Fas Ferox - A Modern Day Mythology - World Walkthrough (via wnq-music)

[docbe]

[ellelalee]

writing is hard

[pandoyareblogs]

I feel this in my soul

[madisonhshapiro]

[wnq-writers]

Sometimes I feel like I would be more at home running wild with a pack of wolves than standing here in heels trying to get you to look at me.

TheBestFriendRole  (via wnq-writers)

[wordsnquotes]

Real love is always chaotic. You lose control; you lose perspective. You lose the ability to protect yourself. The greater the love, the greater the chaos. It’s a given and that’s the secret.

Jonathan Carroll, White Apples (via wordsnquotes)

[wordsnquotes]

I write best When I am either, Falling in love, Or falling apart.

Rudy Francisco (via wordsnquotes)

[writingsforwinter]

dear stranger-sorry, i wanted to talk to you, but i have social anxiety

I saw you in the deli but I was too scared to say hello. Then again, that’s how most of these stories turn out, isn’t it? A person falls in love, however briefly, with another person but never works up the courage to utter a single word. It’s odd, though, because I’m a writer, a quite prolific one too. You’d think I’d be full of words to hand to you like a bouquet.

But the truth of the matter is that I was anxious. I have this problem called social anxiety, where even going to the local hardware store or ordering pizza over the phone seems like a giant roadblock in the path of my entire day. I dread these things. Interaction is so hard. And as I stared at you, trying to memorize the pattern your eyelashes made on your cheek in shadow, the way you closed your eyes for a few split seconds to decompress, I was scared of all the things that could happen. I could spill my coffee down your shirt, accidentally knock your cell phone off the table, forget my name. I have done that before, you know. Forget my own name. There were just so many combinations, infinite combinations, of things that could go wrong and destroy my one chance of being with you forever.

So, as usual, I didn’t say a word. I paid for my sandwich and drink and sat down at a corner table, as far away from anyone else as I possibly could, and ate by myself. Quietly. My mother used to say that you can always feel when someone else’s stare is upon you, that it’s like a heavy cloak has just been spread over your shoulders, but you were so deep in thought that you didn’t notice me looking. At all.

My favorite thing to do is think about time and space and energy. The space-time continuum, space as a kind of fabric punctured by holes and flaws and astronauts landing on the moon. So I thought about rupturing my own personal space-time fabric as I ate my roasted pepper Panini, the fabric I had kept carefully preserved and hidden for so long. I’ve always had a plan, I’ve always followed the exact instructions and rules and just once, I wanted to stray from the path and walk over to you, smile, introduce myself. This would cause an unplanned rip in my space-time fabric and I may have spun out of control, but at the time I was more than willing to experience that sensation just for you.

I thought about it for awhile. So little space between my eyes and yours, a few split seconds between getting up from the table, pushing my chair in, and walking over to yours. A surprise, an unexpected event. Something that could change me utterly and totally forever.

But the idea of doing something not already written down in my daily planner was simply too much for me. My palms were already starting to sweat, my breath coming faster. Even being remotely close to you and the other customers in the deli was causing me to panic. It’s like the walls were closing in, and I had to get out of there.

So I shoved back my chair and rushed out the door. I barely remember you glancing up as I hurried past, out of curiosity or surprise at the sound my chair made as the metal scraped across the floor-I don’t know which. That seemed like the only time in my life anyone had ever paid the slightest bit of attention to me.

On the bus ride home, I leaned my head against the glass and stared out at the people passing by in blurs. I can’t walk home because it involves eye contact with too many strangers, and I can’t drive myself home because I’m afraid I’ll make a wrong turn and someone will notice. The bus is the safest place for me; it allows me time to think.

So I thought about you all the way back to my apartment. I thought about everything I’d given up in the past just to feel less anxious, just to make myself feel more comfortable. I thought about my safety zone and how I’d never once ventured out of it. I thought about the stupid space-time fabric and how I wanted so badly to rip holes in it every day, so many holes that could never be fixed or mended.

I wanted to do things that made me feel uncomfortable, to experience things that made me feel unreal and tingly and wholly confused.

You would have been one of them.

But you weren’t, and you won’t ever be. This city has too many people in it to find you again, and even if I did, who knows what I would have done, or even if I would have talked to you at all.

We could have gotten married and had kids and a vegetable garden full of eggplant and tomatoes and cabbage, a tiny apartment overlooking the ocean, full of knitting needles and leftover Chinese food and so much love contained in one small space. We could have, we could have.

I could have. That’s what I say to myself every time I don’t do something I know I should have.

But if I could go back in time, it wouldn’t be an activity I would redo.

It would be a moment, and it would involve you.

[twloha]

If you are struggling with anxiety, you can find resources here: https://twloha.com/find-help/help-by-topic/depression-anxiety/

[humanoidhistory]

[tagaryren]

MOON MOSAIC — A gorgeous image of the Moon from Noel Carboni via NASA: “No single exposure can easily capture faint stars along with the subtle colors of the Moon. But this dramatic composite view highlights both. The mosaic digitally stitches together fifteen carefully exposed high resolution images of a bright, gibbous Moon and a representative background star field. The fascinating color differences along the lunar surface are real, though highly exaggerated, corresponding to regions with different chemical compositions.” (NASA)

[noodlls]

[ju-yan]

This is the most beautiful gif set I’ve ever seen.

[a-joyfuljourney]