if I ache to TASTE if my heart says SAIL am I not to try? why should I deny? I have my DREAMS I have made PLANS, I see horizons wide as a MAN’S MUST I BE NOTHING ‘TIL I’M SOME MAN’S WIFE?
penned by aleah. template credit: x.

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@captainkingsleigh
if I ache to TASTE if my heart says SAIL am I not to try? why should I deny? I have my DREAMS I have made PLANS, I see horizons wide as a MAN’S MUST I BE NOTHING ‘TIL I’M SOME MAN’S WIFE?
penned by aleah. template credit: x.
WANT TO FLY TO A PLACE WHERE IT’S JUST YOU AND ME I alice & wendy.
for @captainkingsleigh / @emcads
only aleah can reblog.
HORATIO HORNBLOWER. @hcrnblwer
AS A GIRL IN HER MOTHER'S HOUSE, Alice Kingsleigh was often punished for staring ; an undisciplined, childish act that merited the bulk of Helen's scorn, never mind natural curiosity or wide empty eyes that begged to eat their fill of the WONDERS of the world. but she had quickly learned that girls could not look at things. not like boys –– girls were the GAZED UPON, in London, at any rate. but HENRY could look at anything he wanted to. the white expanse of sails like SEAFOAM in the sky. the broad open water broken only by the occasional dorsal fin. and other boys : the most forbidden subject from a female gaze.
but there was nothing extraordinary about it. no profane transformation, that he could feel, from merely looking at the male sex intently, even as her brow furrowed, pencil to paper tracing every contour of Horatio's cheek, every dark swoop of lash. he sweats. it must be warm for him. but Henry made no comment : men were often disquieted by such intimate observations. instead, she bites her tongue, and rubs out a mistake on his forehead.
❝ tell me, does Penelope complete her tapestry this time ? ❞
Source details and larger version.
Dark storytelling that David Lynch merely aspires to: there’s still nothing like Dark Shadows.
She's my everything
Mia Wasikowska behind the scenes of Alice in Wonderland (2010)
Giving me a bag of sea pottery and glass was a bad idea. I'm OBSESSED. So here's a tea clipper on a teacup shard, will make it in a necklace. Now I'm thinking of stories in fragments, tales about ships on sea-rounded porcelain and glass
A Japanese intricate ivory sculpture of a basket of flowers. Meiji period, circa 1900, now part of the Khalili Collection.
See more: http://bit.ly/museumofartifactsvisit
Barbara (@___lepidoptera)
in almost every other children's book where the main heroine is swept away to a land of whimsy she's shown having a lovely time; braving dangers occasionally, trying to find her way home, sure, but ultimately delighting in the magic around her. meanwhile alice spends her entire time in wonderland like
i would like to be treated with respect while maintainingmy whimsy levels -_-
“Plymouth Roads”
John Thomas Serres
I swear I only want to hear about you, to know what you’ve been doing. It’s a hundred years since we’ve met- it may be another hundred years before we meet again.
Edith Wharton (via quotemadness)
WANT TO FLY TO A PLACE WHERE IT’S JUST YOU AND ME I alice & wendy.
for @captainkingsleigh / @emcads
only aleah can reblog.
darlingflight : wendy moira angela darling.
———CLOUDY, NERVOUS EXPRESSION VANISHES with beaming smile at the promise of stories. ❛ yes, you must! i’m afraid you haven’t any choice now about that. not that i like you having brushes with death… ❜ many brushes with death, as alice had put it. near misses and at the hands of pirates. the thought ought to be thrilling, but wendy finds herself suddenly viewing pirates in a considerably less favorable light. not that it should matter. near death experiences were only near death and the prospect of there being many such stories should fascinate her, but the thought of what if, of not some heroine in a story but the very real, very wonderful, alice being near death …suddenly, she didn’t know if she liked that story. not that she would ever think to tell alice what she could or couldn’t do ( she surely had enough people doing that ), but there was no way around it: the thought of alice in real danger had her feeling unsettled all over again. she reached out to touch her arm in what wendy hoped to be a very casual, unassuming manner, the action intended both to steady herself and reassure her that alice was very much there, very much not in danger at the hands of some stupid pirates.
HER BREATH CATCHES at the very gentle, very warm, very –– remarkably, curiously, distressingly, REAL –– touch upon her arm, and quite suddenly Miss Kingsleigh understands completely how so many members of her sex are given to FAINT. ( and it has nothing whatsoever to do with corsets, as had been her previous hypothesis, for she has even today gone without one ) neither potion nor cake has touched her tongue and yet she feels as curious as though she were shifting size once again, a jabbering mind suddenly BLANK save only for the warm pink haze that seems to glow from the contact of her palm. her mouth parts without words on her tongue, and she blinks to better remind herself JUST WHAT STORIES Wendy had wished to hear. pirates ? yes. pirates. brushes with death. ❝ well ––– the pirates had their share of brushes too. in some cases far worse than mine. ❞ vulgar. you shouldn’t talk of killing around a young lady. particularly around a young lady such as this one, whom she very much admires, who happens to ENJOY THE THOUGHT OF PIRATES and shouldn’t like to think of them beheaded. Alice settles her hand atop hers, as if in a plea to forgive her. ❝ that is –– well, I hadn’t much choice when we were boarded, and I would have hated more than anything to give up the ship. I much prefer to run than fight them. ❞ oh, wonderful. now she’ll think you a coward.
its quite literally like when people are trying to make a woman as weird as possible they make her realistic by accident
check out this freak. she’s got “interests” and “hobbies.”