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[kresseida]

[kresseida]

Berlin, Germany

[kresseida]

[kresseida]

Rachel Forrest // Unknown // S. C. Lourie

[kresseida]

i would like to remind you today that you are more than the reflection in the mirror. you are more than acne and a bad hair day. you are more than the things you wanted to do the day before, but didn't get to or couldn't finish. you are more than your body's limits. you are more than the food you didn't eat or ate too much of and of course, you are more than your weight. you are more than your past and any mistakes you relive in your head in the present. you are more than the things that have hurt you and if you've hurt others you can choose to be more than that, you can choose to grow beyond that and become better than that. you are more than likes on a picture, your beauty is not measured by the number and your art or your poems or your stories are still beautiful too, even if few see it, even if no one sees it. you are more than an illness, physical or mental or both. you are more than trauma and grief and your intrusive thoughts. the hardships, the flaws (self imposed or otherwise), the pain - they are PARTS of you, but understand, they are not ALL of you.

- a friendly affirmation

[kresseida]

The sun tosses herself into the arms of the sea

His vast embrace, the only thing she has never felt too infinite for

She takes comfort in being swallowed whole for the night 

Savours the sensation of being devoured 

~ oh celestial love, even the sun longs to be encompassed sometimes, for it is no weakness to desire to be held. you are never too much for someone who cannot get enough of you.

[kresseida]

how do you know when you love somebody? that it is your love and not the reflection of theirs?

[kresseida]

pure art

I had a dream that the king and the queen of a small country had a daughter. They needed a son, a first-born son, so in secret, without telling anyone of their child’s gender, they travelled to the nearby woods that were rumoured to house a witch.

They made a deal with that witch. They wanted a son, and they got one. A son, one made out of clay and wood, flexible enough to grow but sturdy enough to withstand its destined path, enchanted to look like a human child. The witch asked for only one thing, and that was for their daughter.

They left the girl readily.

The witch raised her as her own, and called her Thyme. The princess grew up unknowing of her heritage, grew up calling the witch Mama, and the witch did her very best to earn that title.

She was taught magic, and how to forage in the woods, how to build sturdy wooden structures and how to make the most delicious stews. The girl had a good life, and the witch was pleased.

The girl grew into a woman, and learned more and more powerful magics, grew stronger from hauling wood and stones and animals to cook, grew smarter as the witch taught her more.

She learned to deal with the people in the villages nearby, learned how to brew remedies and medicines and how to treat illness and injury, and learned how to tell when someone was lying. 

Every time the pair went into town, the people would remark at just how similar Thyme was to her mother. 

(Thyme does not know who and what she is. She does not know that she was born a princess, that she was sold. She only knows that one night after her mother read her a story about princesses and dragons, her mother had asked her if she ever wanted to be a princess.)

((Thyme only knows that she very quickly answered no. She likes being a witch, thank you very much, she likes the power that comes with it and the way that she can look at things and know their true nature.))

The witch starts preparing the ritual early, starts collecting the necessities in the winter so they can be ready by the fall equinox. Her daughter helps, and does not ask what this is for, just knows that it is important.

The witch looks at Thyme, both their hands raised into the air over a complicated array of plants, tended carefully to grow into a circle, and says, sorry.

Keep reading

[kresseida]

as if im ever going to start my wip

some fucking resources for all ur writing fuckin needs

* body language masterlist

* a translator that doesn’t eat ass like google translate does

* a reverse dictionary for when ur brain freezes

* 550 words to say instead of fuckin said

* 638 character traits for when ur brain freezes again

* some more body language help

(hope this helps some ppl)

[kresseida]

hope this isnt too nsfw for you guys but id really like to hold a hand

[kresseida]

According to the 18th book of the Iliad when Achilles heard Patroclus was dead he cried so loudly the gods at the bottom of the sea could hear him

[kresseida]

when camus said the literal meaning of life is whatever you're doing that prevents you from killing yourself

[kresseida]

the concept of soulmates is so beautiful and tragic at the same time

the thought that there is someone out there perfect for you is fascinating. the fact that you are loveable, someone can stomach all of your flaws, admire your craziness, fall in love with you entirely. one day you will be loved completely and truly

but on the other hand, what if you spend your life waiting for someone who is on the other continent you will never visit? what if you won't ever meet, passing each other on the street too busy talking to your friends on the phone? what if they weren't even born or have already died two centuries ago?

its ravishing and unbearable

soulmates

emily brontë, wuthering heights // nfwmb, hozier // madeline miller, the song of achilles // rumi // louis tomlinson, habit // plato, the symposium // sarah perry, the essex serpent // sleeping at last, turning page // leo tolstoy, anna karenina // percy shelley, prometheus unbound

[kresseida]

Yes.

the two genders are “i no longer wish to be perceived” and “i have to be the most fuckable person at the grocery store”

[kresseida]

yes please normalize dressing as an assassin

i'm thoroughly convinced that i would feel a millionth time sexier if i wore a dagger straped to my thigh all the time

[kresseida]

"Beautiful things can still come out of tragedy," he offers sincerely.

"Like what?" I scoff.

"Like you."

I freeze. It might have been a compliment. Once. Before I knew better. Before I learnt the hard way of what people do to pretty things. Of what pretty things do to people. Of how beauty both comes at a cost and is the cost.

"Is that all I am to you people? Beautiful?" I spit the word out and spin on him, "Some beautiful aftermath?"

He flinches.

"If this is the cost of beauty. I do not want it." My voice fractures under the weight of my anger. "If this is the cost of beauty, I would rather be hideous."

[kresseida]

oh, so you're homophobic? why is it 'straight to hell' but not 'gay to hell' then?

yeah, that's what i thought