
blake kathryn

No title available
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
YOU ARE THE REASON

Origami Around
Noah Kahan
No title available
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

if i look back, i am lost
RMH
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Kaledo Art
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
wallacepolsom
Sweet Seals For You, Always
DEAR READER
almost home
tumblr dot com

titsay
Stranger Things
seen from United States
seen from Bolivia

seen from United States
seen from Bolivia
seen from Jamaica
seen from Greece

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
@whispered-willow
Alternate ending
His lips were rough against hers, but they drew her in as if she were hypnotized. In a way she was: blinded by love, unable to see the darkness that cloaked them both in its negativity. They were happy in their twisted little way, with limbs and pools of blood scattered around them.
The two had broken off from Datura as they once promised each other, living their lives as a dangerous duo that continued their killing spree for nothing less than entertainment and gold. Vera had Sulicena wrapped around his finger, enticing her with every kill and reward--and she’d fallen for his spell. Out of the satisfying feeling of blood spilling, and watching people struggle.
And the voices that haunted her every night no longer haunted the Sylvari. They told her to continue, encouraged her to do something a little more different than the last until the craft of cutting someone open was perfected.
Her favourites were the squealing Dreamers that were freshly awakened from their pods, weak from the Mother Tree’s damages. Seeing their wondrous, colourful eyes lose the light as quick as night came in the bitter winters.
“Excellent work with the little one, dearheart,” spoke Vera with a grin spreading across his bark lips. He stepped over to the child, no more than three years of age, who laid there with tears streamed down his cheeks and blood leaking out of his mouth. Not a physical mark laid on him, unless someone looked at the ribs poking out of his back.
Sulicena latched onto Vera’s blood-covered arm and gave him a similar, twisted grin. “Competing for your job now.” She stepped towards the back door of the old home while Vera laughed and nodded wordlessly. They had unfinished business here: evidence remained, and that was no good for anyone.
Dark grey and black smoke soared into the high skies of Kessex Hills while the cottage just outside of Garenhoff burned brightly in the night. It was a beautiful sight, and one a second deep kiss could be shared in front of.
The cries for help and Seraph soon came, but the Courtier couple had long escaped into the nearby bushes.
She had become accustomed to being lonely. She was used to walking alone and to being considered different. She did not suffer too much.
Betty Smith
bewitched forest
How can I go forward when I don’t know which way I’m facing?
John Lennon, “How.” (via wordsnquotes)
It’s a most distressing affliction to have a sentimental heart and a skeptical mind.
Nagulb Mahfouz, Sugar Street
I’m not usually in a talkative mode.
Chris Cornell
I have a stubborn heart. I can’t make myself let go of you completely even when my mind thinks it is the most sensible thing to do.
these words ache for you. (via wnq-writers)
“Why don’t you let anyone in?” He asks with frustration clear in his voice. “So that I don’t lose them, ever.” She answers without looking him in the eye
An excerpt // JustScribbledWords
She’s never where she is. She’s only inside her head.
Janet Fitch, White Oleander. (via wordsnquotes)
You shouldn’t miss people who don’t miss you, right?
Alex Finn, Beastly (via thelovejournals)
She reached out, wishing to be held; on countless nights,longing for a hand to hold. Her heart ached for another kind of pain, something a little less dazing, something to bring her back to reality.
That night she held her hand out, hoping to touch a star, hoping to catch it and enclose her secrets in it, so that she could send it back to the milky way.
But stars in themselves held pain; their names had been written in blood on the arms of the ones that tried to make a home out of them.
Photo taken by me Poem by Spectrisdecaelo