She's the wild orchid in your ugly swamp

This Cat Has The Most Beautiful Eyes Ever.

Oh my fucking god the beauty

This cat has expressed every single emotion I have ever felt.

You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you’ve a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin You’ll make your real friends, Those cunning folks use any means To achieve their ends.

(Everything with this illustrations on Redbubble)

So I edited The World Was Wide Enough together with Ten Duel Commandments, and it is haunting.

ITS ALMOST AUGUST ITS TIME TO GET READY FOR HALLOWEEN!!!!!!

someone roadtrip w me and hit up museums and or historical sites

The Poison Garden

Established in 2005 by the Duchess of Northumberland. The garden contains over 100 deadly and hallucinogenic plants. 

’I wondered why so many gardens around the world focused on the healing power of plants rather than their ability to kill… I felt that most children I knew would be more interested in hearing how a plant killed, how long it would take you to die if you ate it and how gruesome and painful the death might be.’

-The Duchess of Northumberland 

Jaqen: Finally a girl is no one. 

Arya: A girl is Arya Stark of Winterfell, and I am going home. 

Jaqen: 

I have been trying to figure out how to express my thoughts, and I think I am ready, so here goes (trigger warning for death and school shootings):

On Wednesday, June 1st, there was a shooting at my school, UCLA. I was in class, the final meeting for a seminar before finals week, and preparing to give my final presentation. We talk easily, a box of donuts on one of the tables. After many weeks, we are comfortable with each other in a way classes rarely are. But then my friend’s voice cuts through the air like a bullet shell falling to the ground: there’s been a shooting in the engineering building. 

Everything freezes like that moment at the crest of a hill on a roller coaster, where it all hangs in the balances before the fall. It’s a fall, but it doesn’t feel like a little girl flying. Then, it’s all happening. We’ve barricaded the doors with spare tables that block the windows in the doors. One of the doors doesn’t lock. And then, we wait.

Rumors fly, monsters taking on different shapes with every word of information and misinformation. We depend solely on our electronics. One truth seems to hold out above the tides of uncertainty: two are dead.

We wait.

I have sent the text to my parents I imagine is a nightmare that hangs in the consciousness of all parents in the America we have today. They are hundreds of miles away with only the knowledge that there is a shooter on my campus, I am locked in a room, and they can do nothing but wait. All of us can do nothing but wait.

My professor talks me through deep breaths as I feel an oncoming panic attack. I respond to a flood of texts and search social media for any information. I close everything for a moment and stare at the image of Carol Danvers that @kristaferanka did for International Women’s Day that is my phone background. I got back to responding to texts. In my inbox beneath one text conversation I see months of compiled messages from @kellysue and her BGSD network. 

I scroll through the list of motivational messages, until I see one from March 29th: “You are not alone, little shark.”

This brings up tears. I’m in a room with friends. We are together. No one is an island. I think of the anniversary issue of Captain Marvel where Carol reads letters from Jess and Rhodey. So I open tumblr and start looking up random comic pages of Captain Marvel, thinking of Carol’s courage. 

On twitter, Kelly Sue had retweeted a post about what was happening at UCLA. I felt that connection to the world again. I tweeted her, thanking her for Carol and the BGSD list, not expecting a response.

Almost immediately, she responds: “Hey, I’m here. You want distracting? How’s your phone battery?” 

I’m pretty sure my jaw drops at this point. It all feels surreal.

So I keep tweeting with her, she tells me she’s not stressed (which I was afraid of) and asks me about little big things: if I have a charger, if my parents know I’m safe, etc. I realize that I’ve been collapsing in on myself, and there is more I can do. I hug my friends, and walk around the room asking if everyone is okay. It’s the least I can do.

Then Kelly Sue tweets to the Carol Corps (fans of Carol Danvers) to send me awful dad jokes in the true style of our hero. Next thing, I know, it’s happening. Strangers are tweeting anything from well wishes to “What’s brown and sticky? A stick.”

I get these messages until the lockdown is lifted and we all stumble out of the classroom like we’re seeing the world again. Dining hall staff is back to work almost immediately, somehow finding it in them to smile while feeding and taking care of us. Kelly Sue tells me to get life affirming burritos- I get sandwich and hope it’s close enough. As soon as I am back to my dorm, I change into a Captain Marvel sweater I have. I pull out “In Pursuit of Flight” and leaf through Helen Cobb’s letter. I fall asleep.

I am an English major, and often get questions about what I’ll do with that or snide comments that I’m somehow doing something “lesser.” But I have stood by it, because above all else, I believe in stories. Dozens of people all around the world, leading different lives, chipped in to make sure I was safe and comfortable, wanting to make me laugh. My favorite author was looking out for me, a 19 year old fan who has dreamed of being like her. We were all connected by this character, a hero, and what she stands for. She is bravery and strength, not backing down in the face of adversity, and reaching for more. That is the power of storytelling, and how it is not and never has been just words and pictures on a page. Society and literature have a codependent relationship, shaping each other. 

So the idea that has been forming in my mind, that I have been unable to shake is this:

We do not write heroes as a form of escapist fantasy to dream of what humans can be. We write heroes to highlight what we already are. 

KSD, have you seen this?

I had not. 

Carol Corps, why do you always make me CRY?!  I HAVE WORK TO DO DAMMIT. 

Also: I love you. 

Yes good

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“Shutup, Wade!”

“I love you too, baby.”

I’M NOT CRYING YOU’RE CRYING