mousa

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[rubyredwisp]

Emilia Clarke named Esquire’s Sexiest Woman Alive

[harveyxspecter]

[dreaonzagle]

little girl learns grief is a seed: swallow it down whole and never speak of the hurt as it grows inside you. little girl grieves: swallows, whole. devours entire portions of sorrow for breakfast. little girl grieves. grief grows. little girl grieves: grows into big girl turned warrior; armor to protect the plant inside of her. warrior swallows smaller sorrows to keep the grief fed. warrior fights off any too-kind hands that may prune. grief grows. grief grows. grief grows. grief g r o w s. warrior wakes up: finds leaves have broken through skin, through armor. green sadness spilling out into light. warrior big girl little girl remembers what hurt feels like. little girl grieves: opens mouth to scream. no words– only flowers show.

and grief grows, Drea O. | grief series (via susanpevensy)

[vazakinada]

She opens up so fast and closes back even faster, letting life rush in then shutting the doors on it till it rots.

VàZaki Nada (via vazakinada)

[mieczyslawstilniski]

oh, tell me darling, isn’t it true, when you are lonely, you howl at the moon, too?

and with a wild heart, i loved you || k.a. (via harlenqiunzel)

[cameronwhimsy]

why tall friends are great

they are towering fortresses good for taking shelter from sun, rain, and vicious birds

excellent hiding spot

they provide a path in crowds so we small ones can get through

can use as large pillows 10/10 would recommend

drawbacks

what do their faces look like

they’re always looking around like ‘SHIT where did my small friend go did i lose them’ worry not tall friend i am down here

?????

hugs are very boob

[eposetties-deactivated20150816]

first. he touches you and you light on fire. your wrist blazes where his fingers meet your skin. the burns don’t show, but it’s hard to breathe with ash in your lungs. it’s so hard to breathe. you’re suffocating daily. second. it hurts to watch him. he shines. he’s brighter than the sun, he’s too beautiful for your eyes. it’s hard to look at him. it’s even harder to look away from him. you’re going blind. third. your ears are tuned to his voice. you could pick him out in a sea of thousands. his voice makes pretty singers who sing pretty songs sound dull. his voice makes everything else sound ugly. fourth. the color of his eyes is blue enough to drown in. he is turning you into a clichéd love-wrecked being. you’re drowning, always sinking. down, down, down. fifth. you know him. you love him. through a thousand lifetimes, across millions of stars, you’d find him, you’d never leave him. you love him, till death do you part. ( sixth. he loves you, too. )

five things you know and the one thing you don’t. 19/09/14 (via aryua)

[wnq-writers]

She grew up in a home that resembled a prison, don’t wonder why she doesn’t desire your caring embrace. All her life, love glistened the surface but beneath it hid another life sentence.

A.L Nash (via wnq-writers)

[quakesource]

this body wears crazy well and so unlike a man. (x)

[awfulmachinations]

i have turned myself hummingbird. not a girl that’s meant to be held wings always moving something furious, something fearful.  it’s nice at first, this constant hum, a steam-haze daydream, losing hours to the shower & the sound of the water beating down. but my body is too small to contain this heart, this rapid beat beat beat cracks appearing in my skin without my permission, without me knowing how. i poke at them, let them spread  & try to look away when things start growing there. once, i tried to fold myself into a crack that followed my spine down my back, body curving like a crescent moon waning & i found i was finally small enough to swallow myself whole.

Madeleine Christie, NATURE, VICTORIOUS (via vespairs)

[starredsoul]

His hands shake something furious, and you don’t know how to stop them, don’t know if they belong to a killer or a lover, or if there’s even a difference anymore. His shadow dances with yours in the streetlights; your darkness has found a kindred spirit, but you are still trying to take the fear from his mouth. Demons and angels are at war inside of him, and you swear to love every single one, swear to love him wicked, swear to love him holy. He is licking prayers he stopped believing into your mouth; if you thought kissing him would save him, you were dead wrong.

Emily Palermo, On Loving A Monster (via starredsoul)

[hecvte]

His fingers slid across her lips, down the slope of her jaw to wrap around her throat, “There is a dark thing in you,” he whispered, “It brings out the monster in me.”

Love Potions Gone Wrong, or Short Stories Yet to be Written pt. 2 [a.m.b.] (via lexiemaddox)

[joypendants]

I cannot stop breaking things. My hands have shattered more than I care to admit: Everyone I have ever touched has walked away with scars. I am all teeth and claws, sharp and pointed –– a thing like me can never be loved.

if you are the sun, i am a supernova. (CNS)

[flowernamedmoved]

Who’s going to want me? My own mother didn’t even want me.

Lily York (via ofdoexyes)

[my-name-is-void-deactivated2015]

I’m too short for this shit

me trying to reach anything ever (via rickardsmorgan)

[debnamcarevs]

[oktehvia]

Favourite characters » Sun Bak

I take everything I’m feeling, everything that matters to me…I push all of it into my fist, and I fight for it.

[diradea]

you said “slay the demon” with the confidence of a long-suffering soul. i know you are, so i trust you. but have you slain yours? sometimes i think i see it clinging to your shoulders, wrapping around you, curling claws in your ribs, peering through the gaps as if to tell me: “yes. i am still here. i have always been here. this heart is mine to eat and not yours to love.” sometimes i think i feel it climbing into my mouth from yours, slithering down my throat cold like ice, making a home of my chest in the same way you have. “slay the demon”? how can i, when you have buried it so deeply? when i have taken half of it to keep it safe for you? you say augustus also had a lover. was he haunted, too? did he toss and turn? he commanded warriors like you do; i wonder which i am to you. either way, i’m failing you, i think. i cannot slay this creature anymore than i could slay you

demon slaying is an empty art (m.y.c.)