TILL OUR SOULS CATCH FIRE

[fingertvps]

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

9:15 AM

[wordsnquotes]

Eye contact: how souls catch fire.

Yahia Lababidi, “Aphorisms” (via wordsnquotes)

[fingertvps]

Be true to yourself. Hold out for the right person rather to clinging desperately to the wrong person simply because you are too scared or too insecure to be alone.

fingertvps

[block]

[handsomedogs]

[fingertvps]

Livvy: and now for a gay update with Kit Herondale

Kit: getting gayer

Livvy: thank you Kit

[tessacarstairs]

books meme: [2/9] nine otps

↳ ty blackthorn and kit herondale (the dark artifices)

“Just words I like,” he said. “If I say them to myself, it makes my mind—quieter. Does it bother you?”

“No!” Kit said quickly. “I was just curious what words you liked.”

Ty bit his lip. For a moment, Kit thought he wasn’t going to say anything at all. “It’s not the meaning, just the sound,” he said. “Glass, twin, apple, whisper, stars, crystal, shadow, lilt.” He glanced away from Kit, a shivering figure in his too-large hoodie, his black hair absorbing moonlight, giving none of it back.

“Whisper would be one of mine, too,” said Kit. He took a step toward Ty, touched his shoulder gently. “Cloud, secret, highway, hurricane, mirror, castle, thorns.”

“Blackthorns,” said Ty, with a dazzling smile, and Kit knew, in that instant, that whatever he’d been telling himself about running away for the past few days had been a lie. He wasn’t leaving the Shadowhunters. He wasn’t going anywhere. Because where the Blackthorns were, was his home now.

[booookish-deactivated20220207]

“there’s a legend about that clock.

for a second, when it chimes,

the gates to heaven open.”

[verylostpenguin]

*flicks through book to make sure favourite character’s name keeps getting mentioned*

[thenordroom]

[theluckykind]

Flower Glossary | Design Sponge

[lilacremes-deactivated20220714]

Good to Know

[noncool-deactivated20210111]

[mypenleaksiridescence]

I have two moods… “Love me” and “not that much, please.”

(via mypenleaksiridescence)

[inkskinned]

the gods are not dead. when men speak to me like i can’t read, i feel athena awaken somewhere in my bone structure. her mouth spits words i had forgotten i memorized, facts from the deep pockets of libraries. she revels in the way they stutter at the quickness of my tongue, whispers, here’s what it feels to be above the cities. i know demeter for the way i feel in dirt, i catch sunlight in my palms and beg people to be disgusted at girl unhaunted by pretty, my hair a mess and my legs hairy and my body thick. i’ve kissed aphrodite, i’ve met her not in lust only but in the girl who listens like she is tied to your soul. she comes out and we go dancing, unashamed of our sexuality. i have even been her, once or twice, on rare moons where the stars aligned. i know the rage of artemis. i hunt those who hurt my sisters, i slay demons, i run in night with red lips. and i am persephone, always, goddess of the spring, goddess of the pomegranate, of wanting, of riding her own horse to hades, of being two queens. when men take power from me, i hear her whispering. take it back, she says, tongue sweet, ambrosia in the blood stream, take back your city.

the gods are not dead. they live in women. they live in me.

[deadsensescompany]

It’s one thing to have a sense of humor about yourself, but its another thing to cooperate with people who are humiliating you.

(via sleevesofgrass)

[wordsnquotes]

The things I find most beautiful about a person are almost never physical.

Mark Patterson (via wordsnquotes)

[fingertvps]

you don’t realize to what proximity you hold him to your heart until it’s half past eleven on a school night and you find yourself urging even your lungs to stay silent, because the boy on the other end of the phone call is sound asleep and you’re desperate not to wake him. you know when you don’t want to end the call to sleep for yourself because nine miles is too great of a distance between you and him and the sound of his lungs putting in the work to keep him alive diminishes the distance to eight and a half. it hits you that he’s wormed his way into your heart and taken root at the center when the color of his eyes and the slope of his nose makes it feel like flowers are blooming in your chest. you realize he’s gotten in when you start tuning out your favorite songs in favor of the recording of his laugh that circulates in your head. you know you’re falling hard and fast when you start making comparisons between him and monarch butterflies, and noticing the freckles on his arms and the minuscule technicolor flecks in his eyes. you know he’s worth it when you’re not scared anymore; when you can look at him and not have a single thought in your head about how many stitches it’s gonna take if he goes away, that’s how you know he’s right.

right // k.g