The Murky World

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simmonsized:

welcome to The Accidental Shipping Club, where our motto is “I never meant for this to happen to me”

little-miss-purplerain:

Witch Weekly Teen Week - issues no. 7-10

Love this

(Source: cruciococks)

fredychilton:

fear can make you kind’

(Source: twelvesouffle)

roseinabox:

Sometimes I think about Nine’s Christmas special and then I cry because he didn’t fucking have one

image

#I just pretend The Unquiet Dead is Nine’s Christmas special

#because Dickens

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

-

W.B. Yeats, “The Second Coming.”

I find myself thinking about Yeats’ “rough beast” a lot of late. Yeats thought a shared apocalypse was nigh. But it seems to the beast comes for us one at a time.

(via fishingboatproceeds)

the first poem I ever loved.

(via maggie-stiefvater)

"Slouches towards Bethlehem" remains one of the most instantly tangible phrases I’ve ever read. You feel those words. Poetry! Always the best!

(via kierstenwhite)

sketchshark:

I’m exposing Chaos’ addiction. My cat is a faucet-water junkie. 

sketchshark:

I’m exposing Chaos’ addiction. My cat is a faucet-water junkie. 

eighthofhearts:

absolutewho:

zabbers:

capalxii:

mildmoderngirl:

well hi baby peter capaldi

what would you even do with this, like put him down for naps and make sure he’s warm and fed

Ruffle his hair and give him popsicles, maybe.

Best comments ever. :)He is just such a wee thing here, you are almost afraid you are gonna scare him by a false movement.

animeandfilmotaku
This is not a drill

eighthofhearts:

absolutewho:

zabbers:

capalxii:

mildmoderngirl:

well hi baby peter capaldi

what would you even do with this, like put him down for naps and make sure he’s warm and fed

Ruffle his hair and give him popsicles, maybe.

Best comments ever. :)
He is just such a wee thing here, you are almost afraid you are gonna scare him by a false movement.

animeandfilmotaku

This is not a drill

quincy360:

you know that unexplainable sickish feeling where youre not really sick and you dont really have a headache but you just feel wrong and you cant get comfortable or find something that youre really into but you kinda feel too ill to sleep or eat its like your body saying “i dont know what i want you to do but this isnt it”

We are torn between nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange. As often as not, we are homesick most for the places we have never known.

- Carson McCullers (via nighthawk-postcards)

(Source: theonion)