a kingdom, or this

anna • xviii • infj // womanhood is a battle, not flowers. blood on a beach at sunset and a lone arrow flying.

[watchoutforintellect]

This is the light of autumn; it has turned on us. Surely it is a privilege to approach the end still believing in something.

Louise Gluck, from October

(via watchoutforintellect)

[lifeinpoetry]

It is August: the true ending of a year. I’ve grown sick from trying to love who I am.

Carlie Hoffman, from “High Bridge Park,” published in Gulf Stream (via lifeinpoetry)

[jpaddey]

Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy, my loves just in time for Valentine’s Day ♥️

[malcolm-f-tucker]

I wish people would stop saying “It’s July. Well done for wasting half a year.” Did you make someone smile in the past six months? Did you stroke a cat or throw a stick for a dog? Did you learn a new fact or teach someone a new joke? Did you laugh, cry, scream or sing in the past six months? Because if so, congratulations for not wasting your time at all.

[luftblumen-deactivated20150807]

I really needed this

[theradicalace]

I’m bringing this back for December to remind everyone.

You did not waste your year.

If you made it this far, that’s already not wasting your year.

You made it through the year, you laughed, you cried, you smiled, you saw the sun and felt the rain, and most importantly, you’re still here.

You did not waste your year.

You mad it this far, and I’m proud of you.

[heryearnings]

I got teary with this. Thank you

[soracities]

It is December, and nobody asked if I was ready.

Sarah Kay, from ‘Winter Without You’ (via 7-weeks)

[xddtcfyvgj-deactivated20180703]

4/21/17

[gansaey]

… and because it was starting, it was starting.

[celaism]

―J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone

[beylenciaga]

[winterblues]

concept playlists;

you’re lying on mossy forest floors, slowly transforming into a nymph, your fingers are turning into flower vines, your limbs are bleeding honey & growing thick skins of sepia bark, wings sprout in between your shoulder blades. your breath sounds like the wind. fireflies litter the air above you

you’re hold up in an abandoned church, outside there’s a raging storm & a horde of zombies roaming around, pressing up against the entrance doors. you & a small band of survivors are staying inside for the night in hopes to ride the bad weather out. you take first watch & listen to these tunes on an old ipod while everyone else tries to get some rest & the undead crawl outside, awaiting the taste of human flesh.

you’re in your boyfriend’s pickup. he’s asleep in the passenger seat, you’re driving without a destination in mind & you have the window down as you let the cool night air whip against your face in a state of pleasant delirium you’re on a rooftop somewhere, there’s 5 am air on your skin, streetlights glint like coins at the bottom of wishing wells from where you sit. you’re feeling peaceful for the first time all week

you’re lying in the middle of a crop circle forty miles from your grandma’s old house waiting for aliens to come and abduct you

it’s four pm in the afternoon and you’ve got your head in the lap of the only boy you’ve ever loved & you’re reading jane eyre & he’s sipping on tea & it’s the kind of weather where it’s just warm enough for you to pretend it’s summer & it’s drizzling & you’re listening to the rain beat softly against the windowpanes you’re curled up in bed as it pours outside, there’s a citywide blackout and the last candle you had left has finally blown out, but you feel strangely at peace within the warm, all-consuming dark

you’re making out in the bathroom of a house party with someone that makes you feel like you’ve swallowed the sun you’re standing amidst a city you burned to the ground. the apocalypse has come & gone. all that’s left is ashes & mortar & sad bones but you’re feeling empowered. a slow smile creeps up your lips as you realize how you’ve always wanted to watch the world burn you wander into wonderland and now you’re suddenly being crowned fairie queen, apparently there’s a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled  it’s mid morning but it’s dark outside from the rain. you thought the tapping on the window was from the rain but it’s actually a crow that flickers out of sight when you look directly at it you’re sipping on cherry cola by the pool on a lazy sunday & you’re feeling younger than you’ve ever been you’re summoning old ghosts in an abandoned parking lot on a smoggy thursday night

[travellersfarfromhome]

Jake Peralta and Amy Santiago are the sweetest and nobody can prove otherwise

[facinaoris]

for he is a star.

burning with the light of a thousand suns.

(and your world is dark without him.) [ x ]

[homesickstars]

the book thief; markus zusak

[strawberrymilk0-deactivated2017]

the dream job is probably being a greek water nymph in an early romanticism painting…..in a pond, tiddies out, looking bored & playing men with my girlfriends

[overdose-art]

John Constable + Clouds Studies

[ohproserpine-deactivated2015053]

Dusk: a blade of honey between our shadows, draining.

Ocean Vuong, excerpt of On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous  (via lesgardenias)

[slyherin]

remus john lupin - i was separated from humans to bite, so i bit and scratched myself instead. the villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. (x)