happerings - Tumblr blog

[happerings]

[happerings]

girl, with an accent of blood who speaks in foreign tongues whose vowels are the sound of metal clashing. warrior, with fire in her veins and armor beneath her skin who crushes the earth beneath her feet. immortal, hair streaked with daggers and iron filling her lungs each breath invitingly toxic. princess, with lips made of glass and a voice cut from steel features born from thunder and battle. heroine, a grin made for war and eyes flecked with ash striding, powerful, into the arms of death.

perhaps she will be the one you follow into battle || [t.r.] (via vodlemort)

[happerings]

I want to be known as someone who’s full of love and radiates light

[happerings]

I was a monster of isolation for so long.

Friedrich Nietzsche, from a letter to Paul Rée (via violentwavesofemotion)

[happerings]

[happerings]

me reading mythology: stop being mean to medusa she’s just tryna protect herself from men :/

[happerings]

[happerings]

Can we please stop making scary shark movies? Sharks are pure sweet babies that don’t deserve this slander. They just have bad eyesight. Don’t be mean to them.

[happerings]

the talk between could’ve been lovers

[happerings]

[happerings]

[happerings]

so often i worry that i will lose my softness for there is so much in this world that fills me with rage

[happerings]

I always imagine them at nightfall, in the dusk of a slum or a vacant lot, in that long, quiet moment when things are gradually left alone, with their backs to the sunset, and when colors are like memories or premonitions of other colors. We must not be too prodigal with our angels; they are the last divinities we harbor, and they might fly away.

Jorge Luis Borges, “A History of Angels” (via contextfreeborges)

[happerings]

by @__060291 on Instagram http://ift.tt/20C6WFc

[happerings]

Hasui Kawase  (1883-1957)

[happerings]

reblog if u r but a humble river goblin doing the best they can which is below average and just plain awful

[happerings]

You are a witch. You warp the very energy that makes up the universe. You dig chunks of sharp crystal from the earth with bare hands and wear them as trinkets. You rip herbs from the dirt and use them to spice the air. You collect glass and bones and storm water and daggers.

Maybe you’re a different sort of witch. Maybe you write music like a siren’s song, sung to the stars, manipulating them until they shine the way you wish. Maybe you delve deep into code and weave quiet, meticulous charms into the very bones of the cyber world, feeling the flow of waves and wifi like others do the wind and the ways of the cosmos. Maybe you collect eldritch creatures, spirits, fae, and deities like others do stamps, frightened because you’re smart, unceasing because you’re brave, and know you’re much scarier than anything you welcome over your threshold.

Maybe you slip blessings into food. Maybe you slip curses under doorsteps. Maybe you draw symbols on your arms. Maybe you write incantations to be heard only by crickets, wicked, whispered nocturnes.

Whatever you do, however you do it, you are a witch. You are a warrior by default. Your strength is as innate to you as breathing. The only thing you must fear is what will happen when someone pushes you too far.