The Idea Of Fame Is Like The Greatest Tragedy, The Human Soul Was Never Meant To Be Consumed & The Old

The gods are right here, as far-fetched as it sounds: everyone’s a god, no kings, no crowns, just us, one being, infinite and holy,  gods, messed up, lonely, squashed, stressed out, dumbed down, raging, wasted … Same as it ever was: brand new ancients.

Kate Tempest, Brand New Ancients (via antigonies)

gansey giving blue a mint leaf to chew on any time he wants to kiss her. blue accepting it, a part of her realizes this is the way gansey kisses her. when blue runs her tongue across her teeth well after she has disposed of the mint leaf she feels a small thrill from the after taste. the dull taste of mint is what she imagines gansey’s tongue would taste like. she wonders if she’ll ever be able to kiss him as long as the taste lingers in her mouth. she counted 6 hours. will she ever be able to monopolize gansey’s time for an entire 6 hours with her lips pressed against his?

ronan chewing on the leather bands around his wrist when ever he wants to taste adam. adam doesn’t know, and ronan will not be the one to tell him. though with the way ronan looks at adam when he’s toying with a band between his teeth, he wouldn’t be surprised if adam hasn’t picked up on it already. he’ll continue doing it anyway, it’s his own guilty pleasure.

ronan and blue up in the middle of the night, staring at their respective ceilings, and thinking, “this is it, this is the closest i’ll ever get.”

what he says: i'm fine

what he means: You know, I get it. Being raised as a superstar must be really, really difficult for you. Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your family thinking you’re worth a damn off the court— yeah, sounds rough. Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time. I know it’s not entirely your fault that you are mentally unbalanced and infected with these delusions of grandeur, and I know you’re physically incapable of holding a decent conversation with anyone like every other normal human being can, but I don’t think any of us should have to put up with this much of your bullshit. Pity only gets you so many concessions, and you used yours up about six insults ago. So please, please, just shut the fuck up and leave us alone.

dreams on sale, today only

foxes: human beings in a mob

riko: what's a mob to a king

ichirou: what's a king to a god

andrew, probably: what's a god to a nonbeliever get over here ill break ur arms too

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

Judge magazine, 1921

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

self healing

Hot Dog: Regular Fellows Monthly, November 1922