Catherynne M. Valente, from “The Bread We Eat in Dreams,” The Bread We Eat in Dreams (via lifeinpoetry)

Red hair… and a hand-me-down robe. You must be a Weasley

Harry Styles, after a brief pause when asked why the boobs on his mermaid tattoo were saggy. He could’ve been glib. He could’ve laughed. He could’ve just said, “I don’t know.” But he paused. And he thought. And he said this. And this is why he is so, so special. (via adultfansofonedirection)

I get emotionally attached to lyrics, like not necessarily a whole song just that one line that hits you in the gut and pulls out every emotion you can possibly feel and every time you hear that one line its like the whole world is okay for a few seconds.

Something’s coming…

Concept: I live in an old creaky cottage with three massive wolfhounds. I wear exclusively long, soft cotton dresses and scratchy sweaters. My glass-walled greenhouse is bursting with all manner of plant life, and the folks from the village come to me for little spells and herbal remedies. The air always smells like rain.

trc aesthetics - blue sargent

Henry Cheng

the fact that luna loved all her friends so much and was so happy to have them she painted them on her ceiling makes me cry at least 5 times a day

what a strange constellation they all were.

“Wait a minute, kid, how old are you?”

“Seventeen, sir.”

(via letmebeeyouroneandonly)

Please read it again, it’s so important.

(via semi-sweetsouthernbelle)

S.Z. // Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #222 (via blossomfully)

im the type of person where you’re either my best friend or i just dont talk to you