✕ ▌ᴄ ʜ ɪ ᴀ ʀ ᴏ s ᴄ ᴜ ʀ ᴏ @artfulwandwork - Tumblr Blog

psa.

so, i have no idea if anyone here is interested, but i thought i may as well pop in with the news. i have officially moved astoria to my freshly minted multimuse blog. and so, naturally, this blog is now an archive. cheers!

#; ( muggle studies ) | ᴏᴏᴄ #; ( sonorus! ) | ᴘsᴀ #; icb tumblr still remembers my tags #; ah well #; i miss my dorter so she's moved for easier balancing of muses

Prolly should’ve done this a while back but: this blog is officially on hiatus. Thanks for showing me a good time while it’s lasted! If you’d like to keep following/writing with me, you can find me over on my Queenie Goldstein and/or my Wynonna Earp.

#; ( muggle studies ) | ᴏᴏᴄ #; mini promo #; it makes me sad but what can ya do

hilariesjeffrey

#s; ( & tell me where it hurts so i can kiss the broken parts of you. ) | ᴅʀᴀsᴛᴏʀɪᴀ

I need a new theme.

#; ( muggle studies ) | ᴏᴏᴄ #; tbd #; hello.....it's me......

specta-a-deactivated20180419

#s; ( & tell me where it hurts so i can kiss the broken parts of you. ) | ᴅʀᴀsᴛᴏʀɪᴀ

permanent-ink-and-paper

And then he said, “i’m scared.” “Of what? Me?” I replied. He shook his head. “Of me,” he looked at me. His hands trembled as they touched my skin. “Of me hurting you.”

10 out of a thousand entries i’ll be writing about you. (via permanent-ink-and-paper)

#s; ( & tell me where it hurts so i can kiss the broken parts of you. ) | ᴅʀᴀsᴛᴏʀɪᴀ

photosetavenue

#; ( & it's supposed to make you feel something. ) | ᴀᴇsᴛʜᴇᴛɪᴄ #; ( & illusion trying to emerge into something solid. ) | ᴀʀᴛ

padmatical

he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will mean some falling and she’s afraid of heights.

—r.i.d.

drastoria for @drakonhesperios. matthew noszka as draco malfoy. lineisy montero as astoria greengrass.

#; !!!!!!!!#; nice #; ( & it's supposed to make you feel something. ) | ᴀᴇsᴛʜᴇᴛɪᴄ #s; ( & tell me where it hurts so i can kiss the broken parts of you. ) | ᴅʀᴀsᴛᴏʀɪᴀ

dvoyd

that girl isn’t fire, or steel, or ice; she is the warmth of morning rays, the softness of freshly-spun silk, and the slow ebb of gentle rainfall. her edges aren’t jagged and sharp like yours, but smooth and rounded; a stone unmarred by the cruelties of a world that would fashion it into a weapon, into a monster. (into you.) she is no warrior, but something far more rare. those beautiful eyes have seen the ugliest things within you, and she has never looked away. those delicate hands cradled your heart, never minding the threatening thorns it bore. she could have crushed it, could have broken it, could have held it hostage or torn it apart. instead, she brought it up to her lips and kissed, smiling with blood running down her chin: ‘if you are made of thorns my dear, then i will be your flower petals—’

and together we shall become a rose | m.a.w (via dvoyd)

#; ( & she had lived her own small life all within herself. ) | ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ #s; ( & tell me where it hurts so i can kiss the broken parts of you. ) | ᴅʀᴀsᴛᴏʀɪᴀ #; ( & i can see your light through the cracks. ) | chosenforthis

clarietemple

“It might have taken me a while to tell you the truth, but from the first second I looked at you, I wanted to tell you everything about me. And when I finally did tell you the truth, you didn’t tell me that you never wanted to see me again. You accepted me.” “Actually, I slapped you.” “And then you kissed me. And stayed with me. And loved me anyway.”

#s; ( & tell me where it hurts so i can kiss the broken parts of you. ) | ᴅʀᴀsᴛᴏʀɪᴀ #; ( & she never looked nice. she looked like art. ) | ᴀsᴛᴏʀɪᴀ #; ( fc | meghan markle )

happytripawd

Fluffneck Luka (old photo)

artfulwandwork

@chosenforthis

#; B)#; lmao i had to #; look at this proud creature so above us all #; ( & i can see your light through the cracks. ) | chosenforthis #; ( & where the wild things are. ) | ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ #; dogblogging

allloversbetray

#; ( you have to take whatever light you can hold into the dark with you. ) | ʟɪᴋᴇs #; ( & illusion trying to emerge into something solid. ) | ᴀʀᴛ #; accio queue

wnq-writers

I miss touching, being touched. The care; the intimacy that is carried within the smallest gestures. A hand at the small of a back, the brush of knuckles and fingers before hands interlace. Knee to knee, thigh to thigh, subtle closeness that outsiders do not notice. It’s strange how aware of your body you become when near another. Every brush, every touch, every moment it lingers.

toxic-wastoid (via innocentdelirium)

#; ( you have to take whatever light you can hold into the dark with you. ) | ʟɪᴋᴇs #; ( affections. )#; accio queue