This story is about the Baudelaires. And they are the sort of people who know that there’s always something. Something to invent, something to read, something to bite, and something to do, to make a sanctuary, no matter how small. And for this reason, I am happy to say, the Baudelaires were very fortunate indeed.

I can’t stop watching the kid with the snake.

Sunny hugging the Incredibly Deadly Viper is, indeed, worth a reblog on its own, but then again, pretty much everything about A Series of Unfortunate Events is worth reblogging. It’s dark, sad, smart, funny, and really not like anything else I’ve ever read. The ending is right up there with my favorite literary conclusions of all time.

(Source: destructo-doll)

(Source: myprettyhead)


AU meet cute in which Kurt, a recent Northwestern grad and Chicago transplant takes a part-time job as a vacation consultant, helping people plan International tours. Blaine, in his last year at UW-Madison, calls in to arrange an anniversary trip to Italy for his parents. They stay on the line well pasthe allotted 20 minutes, talking and flirting and getting lost in each other’s voices. Reluctanto say goodbye, Kurt gives Blaine his extension “in case you have any follow-up questions.”

The next day, Blaine calls back to say his brother Cooper nixed his Italy plans and wants to send their parents to the Mexican Riviera instead. This becomes a pattern. Every day, Blaine calls back with a new reason to cancel the previous tour and book a new one. “Apparently, my mom hates Mexico,” and “They went to Prague last year. Who knew?” and “My aunt Sadie told me my mom had this boyfriend from Australia who was taller, and smarter, and, um… sexier than my dad, and well, he won’t go.”

The last time Blaine calls, he’s thinking Paris. His parents went there on their honeymoon, and going back 30 years later seems like a romantic thing to do. It’s toward the end of Kurt’s shift, and since he has an audition straight after work, he tries to keep it professional so they can finish the call quickly, but he fails. How could he stay focused when Blaine is flirting with Kurt like it’s his final requirement for graduation, talking about honeymoons and pastries and falling in love? 

The perfect tour booked, he doesn’t hear from Blaine again. He’s disappointed, but too busy rehearsing to pine. (Except when he does.) The show is a bit out there, but they have a packed house on opening night and everyone loves it. He’s on his way to the cast party when he notices a gorgeous, well-dressed man standing near the theater entrance, waiting. When the man spots Kurt he smiles and says, “My parents would rather take separate vacations. Any chance you’d like to accompany me to Paris?”

(Source: chrrycola)

"The world is rated R, and no one is checking IDs. Do not try to make it G by imagining the shadows away. Do not try to hide your children from the world forever, but do not try to pretend there is no danger. Train them. Give them sharp eyes and bellies full of laughter. Make them dangerous… and when they’ve grown, they will pollute the shadows."

N.D. Wilson.

This reminds me of one of my favourite quotes from G.K. Chesterton:  “Fairytales don’t tell children that dragons exist.  Children already know that dragons exist.  Fairytales tell children that dragons can be killed.”

(via murphels)

(Source: emotional-algebra)

(Source: amandaonwriting)

posted 4 days ago with 993 notes
via:iconicklaine source:amandaonwriting
#facts #q

Sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. Doctor upped my meds but guess what? That still means I get at least another month of feeling like this. I couldn’t even make it through half of the day at work. Sometimes I wish I could just disappear until I feel better.

Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, it’s hard but just keep swimming…

(Source: barrel--rider)

The most wonderful thing I hear is people coming up and saying ‘Thank you for my childhood’, which still blows my mind but is very sweet.

(Source: benedictinblue)

(Source: swansong-willows)


A woman who hates you is playing the pianoforte.

You have five hundred a year. From who? Five hundred what? No one knows. No one cares. You have it. It’s yours. Every year. All five hundred of it.

A charming man attempts to flirt with you. This is terrible.

You are in a garden, and you are astonished.