mirrormanning:

Does anyone else wonder where Sarah’s last name came from? Like, did the foster system just stick her with it at some point? I doubt it came from Amelia, if she wanted to hide Sarah she wouldn’t have given her her name. Who decided she should be a ‘Manning’?

imsirius:

Daniel Radcliffe in Kill Your Darlings

thymoss:

railroadsoftware:

no one ever says that Rome needed help from aliens to build their empire

#l laughed for days when i found out that #ancient egyptians used water to reduce friction and move blocks for distances #and that this was literally DEPICTED ON THEIR HIEROGLYPHICS #but ~western archaeologists~ #thought that the pouring of water depicted ~superstitious rituals~ #jfc

swish-flick:

today i wore my new boots and made a smoothie 

he is made from smoke and from
dust and from clipped wings.
but the way he walks
he steps so lightly
as though he were made of
glass in the wind.
like the gale brushing over rocks
like pebbles across the sea.
so gentle and so tired and
beaconed with regret.

and in the ocean—
unnoticed—
goes the fall of the sun.
and it
is so beautiful.

birdsong in the morning
the colour of yellow and rays
drifting through the window and hiding
in the gaps of his ribcage.
they ribbon inside his trachea and kiss his
shredded lungs and he
is so tired.
jealousy rises like bile in his mouth
that they have wings
and he has scars

burns
latticework and laces
his eyes and ears and face and
back
riddled with them
creased with them
like the palms of his hands.
like the skin of his lips.
burn marks and kisses linking hands
forming chains
forming cages.
but his mirror is so beautiful.

saltwater stings his dreams and
oceans fill up his mouth when he isn’t looking
the salt stinging him
drowning him from the inside
melting him down to nothing but a
cortege of wax and feathers.
he watches the way the birds float outside and
their wings and the sunbeams

every morning he wakes up,
and the sun streams through his windows,
touching his hands
touching his scars.
and it is so beautiful.

but he is made of scars
of burns
of smoke and of wax and of
clipped wings.
and the sun
hangs just too far
and the ocean drifts
just too close.

[ oh, icarus. ] a.g. (via eurvdice)

sgtjimbarnes:

are people sick of these yet

adidasrussia:

iraniian:

Today was a look

fuck it up bitch!!!!

With love, from Z to A.

mpdrolet:

Santiago Mostyn

I like drinking coffee alone, and reading alone.

I like riding the bus alone, and walking home alone.

It gives me time to think, and set my mind free.

I like eating alone, and listening to music alone.

But when I see a mother with her child;

A girl with her lover;

Or a friend laughing with their best friend;

I realize that even though I like being alone

I don’t fancy being lonely.

i am a galaxy,
lavender darkness
swims throughout all i am.

you are the sun,
a star with a name.

i suppose you think,
‘oh, you mean to say
that you will swallow me?
destroy me, even?’

no.

you are a star,
brilliant and distant,
and you are burning in a way
i never can.

astrologists look to you,
they try to number the days
until your brilliance
eliminates all that they know.

they look to me,
and they see that i am misshapen,
undefined,
dangerous,
and perhaps in some lights,
beautiful.

so you are a star with a name.
and while i envy you for your stage presence,
for your façade of magnitude,
do not forget that you are a mere piece
of all that i am.

pieceml. (via tummyhand)

infinity-imagined:

The Southern Pinwheel Galaxy