Look This Is Really Dumb But Noah And Ronan Totally Do That Thing Where They Point To Random Stuff That

PUT A HEX ON YOU | a mix for modern witches.

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“where the devil can’t succeed, he’ll send a woman.” -ukranian proverb

Photo in the bathroom at the only lesbian bar in Kyoto

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)

Zoe Thaets by Zoey Grossman For Love & Lemons Summer 2019 Campaign 

monmouth evenings, monmouth nights

»we change each other« by shilpa gupta (+)

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)

5 things about the apocalypse

one.  after the sun is eaten, our shadows outgrow our bodies and the stars i took for gods go out. while i did not sleep i heard laughter—cacophonous, full of teeth. at the end i am eating tinned peaches and casting dice on the ground, in expectation of wings, of light, of anything but this stupefied cold, this silence which is an obscenity.

two.  the hungry are weeping as they walk. i have seen a man open another’s ribs like a pair of doors, unseal him where the chest is soft, harrow him for red. they eat only the heart, the first-formed part, cradled and chewed between two horrified hands. fed, they are hungrier. in this corrupt light, the gullet-red of appetite, their faces shine wet and without mercy.

three.  we send up prayers like the last of flares, phosphorus breaking upon midnight. the horizon is a hot wound parting: the dead climb out of their deep tenements, and we greet them, shaken. what does it matter that they are as pale as guilt, that their eyes do not seek us, that they shrink from us in dismay?

four.  yesterday, the words went from us. they left our books and maps and gravestones, emptied our histories and speeches and songs. they fled our throats, and made barren our mouths. in your bible genesis is a cenotaph; nothing is begotten. i hold your hands and i have no voice to speak your living name, to tell you that i am full of fear and relief.

five. it is written on a wall in jerusalem: τετέλεσται. the stars have already fallen, and she proclaims that she is the mouth of god. you go among the crowd to hear her speak, in the brick-husk of the chapel of the holy face. the look of her roars down your blood. men come for her at night, cut out her tongue and string her up by the neck in the muristan. you are kneeling in your kitchen as the earth shakes, and over that great distance you still hear her voice on the wind, causing the dust to rise. it is finished.

(six.  we held each other all night, deep in the rot, our arms helplessly tender. late was the coming of light, a whiteness so bright it seemed infernal, lifting us into a hollow morning, and what breath we were was shaken from us—

and we were dead a little while longer then, cool and adrift on the surface of the abandoned world.)