A Writer's Inspirations
I threw my own power out—black to black, soothing his darkness, the rough edges, willing it to calm, to soften. My darkness sang his own a lullaby, a song my wet nurse had hummed when my mother had shoved me into her arms to go back to attending parties.
“It was a dream,” I said. His hand was so cold. “It was a dream.”
Again, the dark paused. I sent my own veils of night brushing up against it, running star-flecked hands down it.
(Source: yungwimzee, via the-queen-of-terrasen)
The Surreal Photography Of 19 Year Old by Taylor Marie McCormick
Taylor Marie McCormickis an 18 year old photography and photo-manipulating sensation from Northern Kentucky, USA. When I was looking through her artwork, I felt it portrayed that warped sensory experience, and the inexplicable goings on that happen when
you fall into REM sleep and begin the journey into your dreams.
Source:fstoppers and emptykingdom
(Source: asylum-art-2, via my-saviour-loves-and-lives)
lmao no offense.. but what’s the point of being mean to people for no reason
Visual development for Disney’s Cinderella (2015), by Adam Brockbank
Boy 1: That's a GIIIIIIIIRRRL lunchbox!
Boy 2: So what?! It's still going to hurt if i hit you with it!
It was because they were two parts of a whole. He did not belong to her. And she did not belong to him.
It was never about belonging to someone.
It was about belonging together.
(Source: cobaltcharlie, via ohsomanybooks)
IF U HAVENT SEEN THE TRAILER YOU BETTER WATCH THIS RN!!! BC ITS FUCKING GREAT Copyright to 20th century fox
I own nothing
Currently Reading: The Rose and the Dagger
“But, if you ask me, the best way to go about flying is to cut the strings tying you down…”
She was lying on her stomach, hanging over the side of the dock, hands hovering above the water.
“What are you doing?” I asked her.
She reached her hand into the water as if to grasp something. “Waiting for him to come back for me,” she replied.
A: “Your sleeve is on fire…”
A: “Your sleeve. It’s on fire.”
B: “Mhmm, I see.”
A: “Will you stop texting and pay attention! Your sleeve is on FIRE!”
B: “Yes, everything around us is on
A: “Fine, I don’t care, you can burn.”
Only one set of prints led to the empty swing set. None were found leading away.
Aelin: I was a slave in Endovier
Rhysand: I was enslaved to Amarantha
Me: I am a slave to Sarah J. Maas’ writing; cauldron boil me
And wyrd help me
Me if I ever open a bookstore: *taking books out of people's hands* I changed my mind, I'm keeping them all.