serena

serena / XVII / welsh
lannister, alpha, district one, evil queen, agent of shield, slayer

my cuties

faith lehane
lydia martin
dean winchester
skye
grant ward
regina mills
cersei lannister
sansa stark
obsessions

max irons' jaw
a level exams
outlaw queen
pewdiepie
skyeward
musicals
ladies!!!


status

semi-hiatus
THEME

nikittypaprika:

When relatives/random people im forced to engage with start talking about “”gay people”” like some mysterious unknowable entity

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Man Town™

About This Fragrance

Escape to the man cave with this masculine blend of spices, woods and musk.

melisusthewee:

analogfantasy:

clarabeau:

Ladies, I am holding out my hand. Do you trust me?

I need you to open Google Maps. Locate your nearest mall. Get in your car. Drive to Yankee Candle.

Past the seasonal pumpkin display, near the back of the store, you will find a trash pile Man Candle section. You will see candles called MMM, Bacon!. Riding Mower. Man Town. (I’m not kidding. Man Town.) Stay strong. Not in this section, but likely very near this section, you will find a candle called Mountain Lodge.

Hold this jar in your hands like a talisman. Close your eyes and picture a man.

I want to be clear: I’m not talking about a Hugh Dancy. Or an Andrew Garfield, a Ben Whishaw, even a Tom Hiddleston. This exercise requires someone in the Chris Evans weight class. The Richard Armitage department. Someone with smile lines around his eyes who could chop the cedar for your bower with his own hands, strangle an alpha wolf, carry you home when you sprain your ankle in the woods, bench press your entire body. Picture this man in your mountain home with a full beard, a slightly grimy white henley, a fond half smile he reserves only for you. Now open the lid and smell Mountain Lodge.

Steady yourself on the man candle display. Give yourself a second. No, you’re not wrong. Yes, the Yankee Candle Company has just eliminated the need for men. This medium tumbler Mountain Lodge candle jar is now your boyfriend. The Yankee Candle Company has effectively replaced the need for contact with the male half of our species with a compact and clean-burning candle in a jar.

"Do you like this one?" the cashier asked, ringing me up. "Every man should be required by law to smell like what this candle smells like," I replied intensely. "That’ll be $12.01," she said.

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MOUNTAIN LODGE

Today I drove up to Massachusetts for my grandmother’s birthday. When I got off the highway I noticed a sign for the Yankee Candle Company. “Huh,” I thought, “I should stop by and smell that Chris Evans candle that tumblr was freaking out about.” Anyway, I kept driving to my grandma’s house, because I was already late, and my mission was to celebrate my grandmother’s birthday and not smell candles that may or may not smell like Boston’s favorite son.  I picked up my grandma and we headed off to lunch with her giving me directions.  I tried to hide my surprise, fear and excitement when I REALIZED WE WERE GOING TO BE EATING LUNCH AT THE YANKEE CANDLE COMPANY. (No, actually there’s a restaurant attached to the store. No, really. It’s actually a real place that looks like the Pottery Barn’s version of an English country inn. It’s called Chandler’s Gggggeeeettt iiiiittt?? Anyway if you’re going to take your grandma out to lunch in north-central Massachusetts, this is the ideal place.)

But anyway, because I want my grandma to think that I’m an adult woman who has her shit together, I didn’t mention any of the following: Chris Evans, tumblr or man-stink. I kept the conversation to neutral topics like my job, my parent’s recent move and why I’m the best granddaughter. On my way back home, I made a detour. The Yankee Candle Company Flagship Store looks like a giant, gentrified barn (it might actually be a giant, gentrified barn) and houses a museum, a fudge shop, a “Bavarian Christmas village” and of course the candle showroom (where you can make your own candles.) I wandered through trying to look casual, much the same way a high school senior tries to look casual at a college party. 

Anyway, the kind people at the Yankee Candle Company display their candles in alphabetical order so I didn’t have to ask a salesperson where the Mountain Lodge candles were or explain why I was there or why I was sweating profusely. I want to preface the next part of this story, by stating that I am not a Candle Person. Usually my reactions to scented candles can best be described as “Gross” “Ugh” or “Where are the air-sick bags?” I fully expected to take a sniff of the Mountain Lodge Candle, retch and leave empty-handed (or more likely with a pound of fudge.) 

But I didn’t. I popped the lid off the Medium Jar of Mountain Lodge (tm) and let it waft under my nose. It wasn’t gross or overpowering or smell like a Christmas elf’s farts (be honest, that’s what those candles usually smell like.)  No, my immediate thought was, “This woman on tumblr speaks the truth.” I won’t describe what Mountain Lodge smells like, because, like Clarabeau, I really want you to get in your car and drive to the Yankee Candle Company (make it the Yankee Candle Company Flagship Store in South Deerfield, Massachusetts, if you can) and smell what (I really fucking hope) Chris Evans’ dirty laundry basket must smell like. 

AMERICAN FRIENDS, I NEED THIS CANDLE. ONE OF YOU HAS TO HELP ME GET THIS CANDLE.

I’m ten years late to the one direction fan club help me.

"Write an entire monologue with your main character if you have to. Spend a chapter just exploring the life story of an antagonist. They don’t have to be scenes in chronological order. They don’t even have to end up in your book. But they will help you to keep going.

Because you must keep going. Just a little more. You are stubborn. You are exhausted. You are determined. You are a Writer."
jessiecraigdeardiary:

MAX IRONSTHAT MAGAZINE, ISSUE 3

jessiecraigdeardiary:

MAX IRONS
THAT MAGAZINE, ISSUE 3

faithlehanes:

missmartins » faithlehanes

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killianemmaa:

How are you holding up? I’m not a flying monkey, if that’s what you mean.

missmartins » faithlehanes

'you don't let anyone get close to you' yeah ok mother and whose fault is that