bonesarecoralmade:

Only-begotten, Pluto’s honor’d wife, 
O venerable Goddess, source of life:
‘Tis thine in earth’s profundities to dwell,
Fast by the wide and dismal gates of hell:
Jove’s holy offspring, of a beauteous mien,
Fatal, with lovely locks, infernal queen

namiren:

‘alone…’

When you write something and hurt yourself with all the feels to the point where you are incapable of doing any actual writing

feminugget:

I want to write the kind of book that gives your brain papercuts. The kind you can’t stop scratching at cause how could something so small hurt so bad?

And I want to see who keeps scratching and scratching until they uncover something hidden deep in there that explains exactly how and exactly why. Exactly who they are in bare, raw syllables. I want to see who understands pain is part of the process of becoming.

And I want to see who just slaps a band-aid on it and pretends it isn’t there. See if they even finish it.

(I bet they won’t.)

the-writtenkind:

When you’re trying to sleep but evERY SINGLE CHARACTER YOU’VE EVER WRITTEN STARTS RUNNING THROUGH YOUR HEAD AND GIVING YOU IDEAS AND FEELS.

passivite:

untitled by voldy92 on Flickr.

Let me die alone

In my Palace made of bone

(when everything has gone)

*

But never have my soul

To be devoured by ghouls

(that’s this world’s goal)

0rient-express:

quick waters. | by Natalie | on Tumblr.