magikmade-blog

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                      are   u               a  fan  of  social  outcasts  with  cruel  childhood  nicknames  who  have   totally    PLATONIC   FEELINGS   for  their  hot  succubus  best  friend ??   smol  nerds  who  in  turn  transform into  a  part - succubus  psychiatric  patient   (  she’s  a  KICKER  )   with  a  thirst  for  revenge ??      if  u  answered   YES   to  either  of  the  above  then  just  give  this  post  a   like   and / or   reblog   for  more  anita   ‘  needy  ‘   LESnicki   (  amirite ??  )   upon  ur  dashboards !! 

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         have   some        more  near - identical  selfies  in  a  series  i  like  to  call   ‘  wtf  is  meda  doing  with  her  hand  ?  ‘   bc  im  struggling  rn  and  the  lighting  was  kinda  nice

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My friends mom is 4’9 and her dad is 6’5. Whenever she is mad at him, she grabs a chair to yell in his face. Everytime that happens, he’s laughing too hard for her to stay mad. They say it’s the only way they’ve been married for so long.

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               did  u  know           the  fibonacci  sequence  is  an  infinite  series  of  numbers  u  can  get  from  adding  the  previous  two  numbers  together ?   its  name  was  a  misreading  of  filius  bonacci  and  the  sequence  was  originally  used  to  explain  bad  breeding  in  rabbits,   it  is  now  found  in  80%  of  all  things  that  grow,   including  the  petals  on  a  daisy.   isn’t  it  odd  how  a  seeming - mistake  can  lead  to  something  so  beautiful ?   if  ur  interested  in  more  odd  facts  and  writing  with  an  autistic  oc  written  by  a  smol  autistic  mun  then  give  this  post  a    LIKE   or    REBLOG   so  the  fun  can  begin.

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If only my heart were as cold as I pretend it is, maybe I could get over this.

Jessica Katoff (via wordsnquotes)

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She loves you, you know? She’s just afraid of losing you, so she holds you far away. Funny how we are, isn’t it?

Pierce Brown, Morning Star (via wordsnquotes)

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Your soul has fallen to bits and pieces. Good. Rearrange them to suit yourself.

Hermann Hesse, Steppenwolf (via wordsnquotes)

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gammaorioniis:

                                   The flick of her wrist is dismissive, distracted, and one could almost believe that she has been sated if not for the tiniest spark of light in lightless eyes. “Not one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but not filthy.” She inspects a broken, snarled nail for a moment, uses it to pick at a split tooth in the center of her wicked, rotting mouth. “At least, not as a whole.” It is a pointed comment that she makes, though she does not look the younger witch in the eyes, not until she is a hairsbreadth from her nose once more. “I spent fourteen years of my life living among rodents in a dank, dark little cell… You get accustomed to the stench. I know when I smell a rat, girl. Pitiful, frightened vermin. Look at me when I am speaking to you! Do not lie to me.”

                                  for  a  moment  relief  filled  the  younger  witch,    REPLACING   terror,   as  she  believed  herself  to  be  safe.   the  elder  woman  seemed  to  relax,   step  back ;   her  lacklustre   BLOOD   purity  sated  the  blood - lust  of  the  wicked  witch.   but  with  the  pointed  retort,   the  rapid  approach  until  her  gleaming  eyes,   stone  black,   were  inches  from  her  own,   she  knew  such  hope  was   USELESS.    despite  the  aggression  in  bellatrix’s  order,   evie  could  not  bring  herself  to  raise  her  gaze  to  meet  the  dark - haired  witch’s.   ❝   i’m  not   LYING   to  you,   i’m  not !   ❞   a  plea  dipped  in  desperation,   willing  the  other  to  believe.   it  was  true,   in  part,   all  that  she  had   SAID.    ❝   that’s  my  name,   the  whites,   they’re  my  family.   they  really  are !   i’m  not  lying !   ❞   the  horror,   an  fear   SO   intense  she  found  herself  without  descriptor,   tore  the  false,   and  fleeting,   sense  of  calm  from  her  chest  and  she  all  but  wept,   eyes  cast  towards  the  ground,   her  hand  reaching  for  the  wand  in  her   POCKET.

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I highly recommend following this magical cinnamon roll.

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gammaorioniis:

                                   “The world is a dark place.” She can practically taste the fear rolling off of the younger witch in waves, rich and ripe as a summer plum. It does not garner her pity, merely fuels curiosity, a skeletal hand gripping at a jaw more forgiving than her own to get a better look. “It didn’t give me a choice… What did you say your surname name was, girl?” She is too close; she is always too close, rancid breath steaming against that cherubic face, black void eyes gazing too intently from beneath lazy lids.

                               indeed  it  was ;   darkness  haunted  each   CORNER   of  this  room,   flowed  in  the  very  veins  of  the  witch  before  her.   despite  herself,   evie  felt  the  faintest   STIRRINGS   of  pity  for  the  woman.   ❝   uh,   white,   ❞   hesitant,   unsure  how  to  address  the  threat  of  a  witch  whose  firm  fingers  had  her  so  trapped,   unable  to  quite  meet  her  gaze.   shame  pulsed  in   HER   like  a  second  heart - beat.   she  fought  to  keep  it  from  seeping  into  her  already  trembling  tone.   there  was  no  embarrassment  in  her  name,   a  history  of  relatively - pure  blood.   yet  there  was  still  her   DARKEST   secret,   one  she  cared  little  for  but  knew  the  other  witch  would  not  be  so  kind  as  to  forgive   --   her  muggle   MOTHER.    ❝   i’m  evangeline  white.   ❞

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You aren’t very hard to corrupt and you’re an awful lot of fun to corrupt.

Ernest Hemingway, The Garden of Eden (via wordsnquotes)

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           starter   call         and  possible   plotting   call  if  i  get  stuck  lmao.   but  i’ll  throw  some  random  things  at  people  maybe.

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anne carson sentence starters.

quotes are all taken from various poems and essays by the queen of aesthetes, anne carson. feel free to change pronouns/add things/etc if needed.

‘ you are not a god. ’

‘ we begin in the dark and birth is the death of us. ’

‘ now you’ve crowned yourself one final perfect time. ’

‘ [ name ] was a monster. everything about him was red. ’

‘ what are we made of but hunger and rage? ’

‘ i finally decided that understanding isn’t what grief is about. ’

‘ honey is the sleep of the just. ’

‘ it is perilous to live past the end of your myth. ’

‘ you remember too much. ’

‘ when i desire you a part of me is gone. ’

‘ humans in love are terrible. ’

‘ under the seams runs the pain. ’

‘ men know almost nothing about desire. ’

‘ sex is a substitute, like money or language. ’

‘ what is the holiness of conversation? ’

‘ —you burn me. ’

‘ i ask this one thing: let me go mad in my own way. ’

‘ sometimes i just want to stop seeing. ’

‘ we’re all mortal, you know. ’

‘ i am the shape you made me. filth teaches filth. ’

‘ why does tragedy exist? ’

‘ you’re a beauty. ’

‘ madness and witchery are conditions commonly associated with the female voice. ’

‘ it made me merciless. ’

‘ desire is no light thing. ’

‘ i do not exist. there is nothing left. ’

‘ gods are stubborn. so am i. ’

‘ we had been seduced into thinking that we were immortal. ’

‘ i am someone who did not die when i should have died. ’

‘ why are you so in love with things unbearable? ’

‘ everything can collapse. ’

‘ someone will remember us. even in another time. ’

‘ my mind is burning. ’

‘ each night, about this time, he puts on sadness like a garment and goes on writing. ’

‘ love does not make me gentle or kind. ’

‘ i can give you reasons not do die. ’

‘ passivity is killing her. ’

‘ they are victims of love, many of them. ’

‘ he is a young god. ’

‘ you touch my soul, you pain my mind. ’

‘ it’s something of a cliché to say that we all think we’re monsters. ’

‘ i fear your sorrows make your tongue grow wild. ’

‘ it’s what they call ‘ecstasy’. ’

‘ a man who can’t die is no tragic hero. ’ 

‘ i want everything. ’

‘ it was like a beautiful dance where your partner turns and stabs you to death. ’

‘ to survive you need an edge. ’

‘ girls are cruelest to themselves. ’

‘ we are dust. ’

bonus! further quotations from award-winning poet and author anne carson:

‘ i am a philosopher of sandwiches. ’

‘ pilgrims were people glad to take off their clothing, which was on fire. ’

‘ english is a bitch. ’

‘ i wish i were two dogs. then i could play with me. ’

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reblog this if you actually like following me.

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reblog this if you actually like following me.

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          ❛     SIZE  IS   NO   GUARANTEE   OF   POWER.     ❜

                                        ind. private & selective GINNY WEASLEY. penned by reed.

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unwilts:

 she  is  the  palette  of  a  dark  sweet  pomegranate,  &  her  features  open  like  petals.  other’s  curiosity  is  mirrored  in  saccharine  features ;      an  ever  hungry  heart  beating  against  ivy  lined  ribs.  her  voice  kept  light,  melodic,  lack  of  malice  makes  her  more  like  soft  silk  than  the  biting  venom  of  their  house  emblem.      ❛  that’s  not  rude.  s'a  little  naive,  but  it’s  not  rude.  i  mean,  i  dunno.  not  everyone’s  gotta  be  where  there  parents  were.  otherwise  what’s  the  point ?      i  mean,  what  house  were  yours  in ?  ❜      she’s  genuine  in  her  question,  really  does  want  to  know.  maybe  to  make  her  point,  but  maybe  just  to  learn.

                                 NAIVE ;    if  there  were  ever  a  word  to  encapsulate  the  young  raven - haired  threat  of  a  witch,   it  would  be  that.   her  innocence  was  dipped  in  poison,   a  weapon  that  could  destroy  others  as  easily  as  it  so  often   INFECTED   evangeline.   a  laced  dart  through  her  own  heart,   she  would  be  struck  down  by  her  own  cunning,   wrapped  around  an  undying  and   UNQUESTIONING   faith  in  all  that  seemed  simple.   she  was  floating  above  an  ocean  of  deeper  understanding  she  could  not  baptise  herself   INTO.    she  flew,   toes  only  skimming  that  water  for  fear  that  if  she  ever  dared  to  enter,   she  would  drown  in  the  icy  depths.   ❝  oh,   i  suppose.    ❞   for  a  moment  she  thought  she  would  not   OFFER   an  answer ;   concealing  her  true  parentage  seemed  petty,   yet  she  could  not  lie  to  some  and  not  others.   ❝   slytherin,   ❞   was  her  nonchalant  offer  in  response,   slender  shoulders  shrugging  without   COMMITMENT.    not  entirely  saturated  in  deception,   her  father  had  indeed  been  a  serpent  alumni  but  her  mother  had   NOT   set  foot  within  castle  walls.   ❝   do  they  mind ?   your  parents ?   ❞