She was pretty in the kind of way that said she’d run a dagger through your heart and still keep smiling the whole time. —Richelle Mead, Silver Shadows (via mashamorevna)

She was fire, she was darkness, she was dust and blood and shadow. —Sarah J. Maas, The Assassin’s Blade (via quoted-books)

oddhealer:

          why do you hide your claws, child?
               you have lions in your heart.

          bare your teeth;
               & do not go g e n t l e.

          you have an inferno in your soul,
               a melody in your bones.

          r i s e, warrior. do not be afraid.
               you are conquering.

          & you will be amazing some day.

You have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness. —Don Pedro to Benedick, in Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing 5.4.41-42  (via yunoki)

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for I am the meanest motherfucker in the goddamn valley. —Morgana Pendragon, Diamond of the Day Part 2

She holds her hair up with only two chopsticks and a bobby pin.
Think Atlas. Think shoulders.
When your sadness starts to feast,
she carries the light down from the
mountain and hands it to you,
tells you to set it on fire.
Think Prometheus. Think savior.
On Sunday, she steps out of the shower and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything more beautiful than the way she walks towards you with a towel on her head, water clinging to her like there is
nowhere else it would rather be.
Think Aphrodite. Think sea foam.
You love her like mythology.
You love her like the impossible stories of Gods and monsters.
When she sings, think fairies.
Think mermaids. Think hymns.
She is the face of the river that
Narcissus fell in love with,
confusing hers for his own.
She is Medusa’s fury,
Athena’s strength,
Achelois’ healing.
You are kissing her in a crowded
restaurant and it feels like praying.
You are watching her instead of the
meteor shower
and you don’t even notice. —Mythology | Caitlyn Siehl  (via secrethistorys)

I, too, remember the feeling. You are caught between all that was and all that must be. You feel lost. —Haruki Murakami, Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of The World  (via whyallcaps)

He whispered he loved me, and the storm in me fell silent. —- jenn satsune  (via disintegrativeruin)

Fuck your soft words.
Compare me not to stars
But to storms, to hurricanes and typhoons.
See me not for my beauty and fire
See me for the natural disaster I am.
Fuck your soft words
Because I am not soft. —

inkwhelmed:

_{- “margot”  l.w.  00:21}

mayhembegins:

                                                  ⊰   Don’t underestimate me ⊱

         because just as the p r e t t i e s t of storms

                                  strike with lightning or the most c o l o r f u l

             of roses have their thorns, I will deceive you with my beauty

                                                     and destroy you with my sins.