Every Angel Is Terrifying.

marina nery @ the society

In winter, some voices are like coats.

Ahlam Mosteghanemi  (via thefelixkot)

Don’t mind me, I’m just going to go lay face-down on the floor and think about Neil’s insistence on thoughtful navigation of Andrew’s post-abuse boundaries.

concept: a chapter in trk where gansey gets his wisdom teeth removed and the gang is with him while the anesthesia wears off gansey, through the gauze in his mouth: “adam… adam you’re so beautiful. you’re like a starfish.” with emotion: “adam i told the doctor that if you ever needed an organ it had to be mine… it has to be mine….”

“RONAN….” “don’t.” “RONAN….” “come on.” “RONAN….” “[sighs] gansey.” gansey smiles serenely and dozes off for 5 whole seconds. “i wish blue were here.” “gansey, i’m sitting next to you.” “ronan, call her.” “i’m here. you’re holding my hand.” “ronan is she picking up????” gansey punches random numbers on his phone. “is this the organ bank??? i’m an organ donor but i want them to go to adam parrish specifically. if adam doesn’t want them give them to noah because he has no organs.” “[dryly] thanks, gansey.” (adam and noah, in unison)

holy youth: uknown models for vogue it dec. 2018

reblog if u think adam’s gonna become a tree in trk

witches around the globe → new orleans the witches of new orleans are fiery, carefree creatures. they live in a city of dreams and music. nestled amongst the messy, noisy streets, the witches of new orleans give futures to anyone willing to sell them their secrets.

THE TRAGEDY OF LOVING A SOLDIER:                            the battlefield never really leaves them.              (you see his hands still shake, finger glued to the trigger) THE TRAGEDY OF LOVING A GENERAL:                     the battle may be won, but the war never ends.           (you watch sleep continue to elude her, eyes dull with grief) they both look at each other as though begging the other to be selfish.                     (the bloodshed ends, but they never find peace)

THE WAR & OTHER METAPHORS ( a.c. )

living in the countryside really strikes the fear of god into you at the most random moments. you’ll just make eye contact with a cow or stare for too long into a brook and all of a sudden you’ll think something like “these are old bones and i am merely a passing occupant” and then you have to go and put the kettle on to cope