Neil: I've Been Running My Whole Life.

I watched some Harry Potter movies recently, so….

the fact that kevin and jean have so much riding on this interview & it’s so high-stress yet they’re both like “and in equally distressing news, Jeremy is applying to law school” is so funny

the carbon in your body was once in a star. a celestial being died so that you could be here today. the universe believes in you and so do i

i’m so yikes at all the people praising @maggie-stiefvater for the lgbt ship being treated ~so well~ in trk just bc…. the lgbt characters weren’t killed off or turned into trees, and that’s just….. so sad.

as if pynch wasn’t completely treated as an afterthought, because they totally were. their scenes were super short and had no dialogue whatsoever, nor did they have any sort of confession of feelings or clear confirmation of their relationship while the hets got clear i love you’s and official declarations of their relationship to literally everyone and unnecessary drama……….. like i’m super happy that they’re both alive and happy and together and have a little hooved daughter that they love but. 

that shouldn’t be our standard. it’s mostly just sad that our expectations are that low that we’re praising an author for sidelining the lgbt ship and treating them nowhere near as well as the straight ship. and again so much of pynch was subtext and extremely subtle stuff that you have to read in between the lines, as it has been since the beginning. 

and i don’t even blame any lgbt people for being happy about it bc we’re used to being treated so awfully that we’re basically ecstatic about getting just scraps bc well, it could be so much worse. but stief is nowhere near revolutionary and actually giving good and equal representation and we deserve better (and any straight people praising it just need to shut up, thanks). 

i mean, if you can say one positive thing about it, it’s that the two lgbt characters got the strongest and most intricate individual arcs, but as a ship they were absolutely sidelined and underwhelming after all the hype and build up. 

im bored and thinking about kid!blue

drinking milk everyday to grow big and strong like mama (to her disappointment mama was not as tall as kid!blue thought. she figures putting the wrong idea out into the universe is partially why she is so short.)

being bullied by orla for being a shrimp (orla rubbing her temples: the voices from beyond are telling me u r a shrimp) (blue: |:)

wishing whenever she possibly could to grow taller.

maura: blue what do you want for your birthday?

blue: to grow three inches

maura: look a shooting star, make a wish!

blue: i wish to grow five inches

new years day blue: my resolution is to grow 9 inches

persephone: you know, a resolution is supposed to be something attainable that you have control over

blue: im 12, it’s attainable! (blue only grew like three more inches before she stopped for good)

something wicked this way comes. modern witches: instagram.

people who know gansey is going to die: me, you, gansey, adam, blue, the women of 300 fox way, millions of readers 

people who don’t know gansey is going to die: ronan

The blood on my teeth begins to taste like a poem, like religion, like the way you look at me.

Sean Glatch, from “Caffeine, Pt. 1,″ 4:41 (via lifeinpoetry)

Your father teaches you how to be the first one to walk away. Leave, before they realize you were not worth staying for.

Bianca Phipps, "The Heartbreaker Poem" 

holy, holy, holy. these are the words he murmurs into your skin, language of prayer, language of divinity, language of worship. holy, holy, holy. he whispers it into your crook of your neck, rolls the words into the hollow of your throat, into your bones, into your sharp edges. holy, holy, holy. a mantra. a litany. a prayer. holy, holy, holy. the way he looks at you, it’s like he wants to take you apart and study each piece of you, and then maybe he’ll put you back together when he’s done. maybe. holy, holy, holy. he stares at you, so hard you can feel it burning your skin, and you think maybe he’ll kiss you, or maybe he’ll eat you alive. you haven’t decided yet. holy, holy, holy. in the end, it’s a kiss, real as a punch and twice as hard, and it hurts like a bullet pearling into flesh, hurts like his eyes on the back of your neck, on your collarbones, on your lips. holy. holy, holy, holy.

on loving a god | m.c.p (via ara-ne-um)