"Logan in real life is a very confident young man and I thought he’d be good to play Patrick because he’s also very funny. I said, “Hey, why don’t you audition for Patrick?” And he said, “No, I want to audition for Charlie.” I was surprised by that, but I said, "OK. I believe in following an actor’s passion, so if that’s what you want, I’ll be supportive. Let’s do it." And he came in and he nailed it in five seconds because he had the balance of every characteristic that Charlie had, and everything that I wanted the character to be for the movie." — Stephen Chbosky
Loki Week: Day Three - Magic
An Old Norse term for a type of sorcery practised in Norse society. Seidr practitioners were of both genders, although females are more widely attested, with such sorceresses being variously known as vǫlur, seiðkonur, and vísendakona. There were also accounts of male practitioners, known as seidmenn, but in practising magic they brought a social taboo known as ergi onto themselves, and were sometimes persecuted as a result. Within pre-Christian Norse Mythology, seidr was associated with the god Odin, as well as the goddess Freyja, a member of the Vanir who was believed to have taught the practice to the Aesir.
Sansa Stark meme || (4/9) Quotes
↳ “She had last seen snow the day she’d left Winterfell. That was a lighter fall than this, she remembered. Robb had melting flakes in his hair when he hugged me, and the snowball Arya tried to make kept coming apart in her hands. It hurt to remember how happy she had been that morning. Hullen had helped her mount, and she’d ridden out with the snowflakes swirling around her, off to see the great wide world. I thought my song was beginning that day, but it was almost done."
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back she was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.