Allow Me To Introduce…The 1989 (my Version) Sunrise Boulevard Vinyl Edition💛 Available On My Site

Nesta at solstice with the inner circle:

okay but if we, as a society, normalised writing poetry on the walls, wandering through old forests, having massive secret home libraries filled with books we've collected over the years, wearing medieval dresses and lying on the cool grass in a countryside on summer evenings.. daydreaming instead of worrying about chores and silly responsibilities; the world would've been a better place.

Carlisle cullen and aro volturi appreciation post

tis the damn season is so me. like. miss dorothea said "yes i have an on and off situationship with my ex whenever i go back to my hometown and we sleep in half the day and they call me babe for the weekend but when it's time for me to leave i will flee their bed without ever discussing what the fuck just happened because emotional intimacy is fucking hard and yes i would rather slip on a mask of indifference and false happiness than communicate to them that i fucking love them and i want them and i need them. i just can't. fucking. say that. so i'll go back to L.A. and the so-called friends who'll write books about me if i ever make it and wonder about the only soul that can tell which smiles i'm faking. and the heart I KNOW I'M BREAKING IS MY OWN !! TO LEAVE THE WARMEST BED I'VE EVER KNOWN !!" and she's so fucking real for that.

“Come one, cheer up, it’s nearly Christmas.”

The worst about it is that I’m proud

In Greek, "nostalgia” literally means "the pain from an old wound”. It's a twinge in your heart, far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn't a spaceship, it's a time machine. It goes backwards and forwards, it takes us to a place where we ache to go again. It’s not called the wheel, it’s called the carousel. It let’s us travel the way a child travels - around and around, and back home again, to a place where we know we are loved.

Don Draper, “The Wheel”

Name moodboard for Diana Requested by @d14n4ol

yall know what i like most about tis the damn season? how much it sounds like an argument. Like all of the 'hear me out's and the repeated justifications of calling her babe but only for the weekend, how this is the only person to truly know when she's actually happy and how it's the warmest bed she's ever known. Like yes I love this person but I can only justify spending two days with them before I go back to my real life.

the fact that i'm not in some alternate universe where i go to this school wearing pretty clothes, i'm creeping down it's hallways on a rainy day and me and my friends are dancing in circles as fellow students sing pretentious poetry and this pretty stranger is falling in love with me because i'm constantly saying strange and unpleasant things (which are a part of my charm) is so fucked up.