I think it's beautiful how so many people still live their lives like they care about the small, yet meaningful things. Like they read books and drink tea and love making art and look after a garden and listen to old songs on repeat and never move past a 'phase' and talk to birds and admire the sky even though it's the same everyday and watch movies till they remember the dialogues and write letters to the people they love and collect rocks and dance with their windows open and overdress to every occasion and pretend and wish and-
“And you think it was sunrise I was waiting for and not my queen. Do you not hear her footfalls? She has never quite managed the trick of hiding them as well as one of the Folk. Surely you've heard of her, Jude Duarte, who defeated the redcap Grima Mog, who brought the Court of Teeth to their knees? She's forever getting me out of scrapes. Truly, I don't know what I would do without her.”
~ How the high king of elfhame learned to hate stories
Once, there was a young prince who was born in a castle. His mother was a princess scholar, and his father was the most handsome, feared knight in all the land. As a boy, people would bring him everything he could ever dream of wanting. The most beautiful silk clothes, ripe fruit from the orangery.
At times, he was so happy, he felt he would never grow tired of being a prince. He came from a long, long line of princes, but never before had there been a prince quite like him: born with his heart on the outside of his body. When he was small, his family would smile and laugh and say he would grow out of it one day. But as he grew, it stayed where it was, red and visible and alive. He didn’t mind it very much, but every day, the family’s fear grew that the people of the kingdom would soon notice and turn their backs on the prince.
His grandmother, the queen, lived in a high tower, where she spoke only of the other princes, past and present, who were born whole.
Then, the prince’s father, the knight, was struck down in battle. The lance tore open his armor and his body and left him bleeding in the dust. And so, when the queen sent new clothes, armor for the prince to parcel his heart away safe, the prince’s mother did not stop her. For she was afraid, now: afraid of her son’s heart torn open too.
So the prince wore it, and for many years, he believed it was right.
Until he met the most devastatingly gorgeous peasant boy from a nearby village who said absolutely ghastly things to him that made him feel alive for the first time in years and who turned out to be the most mad sort of sorcerer, one who could conjure up things like gold and vodka shots and apricot tarts out of absolutely nothing, and the prince’s whole life went up in a puff of dazzling purple smoke, and the kingdom said, “I can’t believe we’re all so surprised.”
A sapphic vampire show with angst and slowburn, created by V.E Schwab coming out during the fruity month??????💳💥💳💥💳💥
“We all bear scars, Dorian. Mine just happen to be more visible than most."
~Aelin Galathynius,Tog
When Baghra said "Know that I loved you, Know that it wasn't enough." to her son before she died. That was true pain.
Don’t we all? Who didn’t want to think fate had a plan for him, that his hurts and failures had just been the prologue to a grander tale? To a monk becoming a holy warrior. To a bastard becoming a king.
Nikolai had been told hope was dangerous, had been warned of it many times. But he’d never believed that. Hope was the wind that came from nowhere to fill your sails and carry you home.
~Nikolai Lantsov, King of Scars.
“We say like calls to like, girl. But if the science is small enough, then we are like all things. The light lives in the spaces between. It is there in the soil of that mountain, in the rock and in the snow. The Cut is already made.”
~ Leigh Bardugo, Ruin and Rising
friendly reminder that the god of mischief, Loki Laufeyson SMILED WHEN MOBIUS TOLD HIM THAT HE COULD BE WHOEVER HE WANTED, EVEN SOMEONE GOOD.