divine rivals by rebecca ross

“don’t leave,” he whispered, and his hand flailed, reaching for her. “you and I … we need to stay together. we’re better this way.”

kitay was pure. he was the best person she had ever known. kitay shouldn’t know how it felt to call a god of vengeance. kitay was the last thing in the world that was still fundamentally kind and good, and she’d die before she corrupted that.

for @henwilsons, the other half of my soul.

every sapphic book i love → the priory of the orange tree by samantha shannon

I would live alone for fifty years to have one day with you.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PERCY JACKSON

Am I a troubled kid? Yeah. You could say that.

books read in 2024: frankenstein; or, the modern prometheus, mary wollstonecraft shelley

CHAPTER FIVE → THE SONG OF ACHILLES

His spear, as he began the first pass, moved faster than my eye could follow. It whirled, flashing forward, reversed, then flashed behind. The shaft seemed to flow in his hands, the dark gray point flickered like a snake’s tongue. His feet beat the ground like a dancer, never still. I could not move, watching. I almost did not breathe. His face was calm and blank, not tensed with effort. His movements were so precise I could almost see the men he fought, ten, twenty of them, advancing on all sides. He leapt, scything his spear, even as his other hand snatched the sword from its sheath. He swung out with them both, moving like liquid, like a fish through the waves.

I had absolutely no interest in being somebody else's muse. I am not a muse. I am the somebody. End of fucking story.

Daisy Jones & The Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid

literature moodboards: if we were villains by m. l. rio

"you can justify anything if you do it poetically enough."

Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood. (...) Being a half-blood is dangerous. It's scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful nasty ways.

if carlisle was the soul of our family, then esme was the heart. he gave us a leader who deserved following; she made that following into an act of love.

Actors are by nature volatile—alchemic creatures composed of incendiary elements, emotion and ego and envy. Heat them up, stir them together, and sometimes you get gold. Sometimes disaster.

If We Were Villains, M. L. Rio

if you could see the sun by ann liang

and everything about this moment is so lovely and so fragile in its loveliness that i'm almost afraid to hold it

happy birthday, @enviies !

you think, as you walk away from le cirque des rêves and into the creeping dawn, that you felt more awake within the confines of the circus. you are no longer quite certain which side of the fence is the dream.

every sapphic book i love → the seven husbands of evelyn hugo by taylor jenkins reid

please never forget that the sun rises and sets with your smile. at least to me it does. you are the only thing on this planet worth worshipping.

@paletmblr event xxviii: free choice THE OUTSIDERS— Dallas Winston

"The shade of difference that separates a greaser from a hood wasn't present in Dally. He was as wild as the boys in the downtown outfits like, Tim Shepard's gang"

@fictionnet event 08 : favourite book — THE POPPY WAR, r. f. kuang.

i am the force of creation. i am the end and the beginning. the world is a painting and i hold the brush. i am a god.