Background Illustrations provided by: http://edison.rutgers.edu/
Reblogged from yimie  111 notes

You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better. By Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life (via fewthistle)

Reblogged from floozys  31,979 notes

captain-fucking-levi:

averypottermormon:

captain-fucking-levi:

ya-boy-levi:

captain-fucking-levi:

why am i not the protagonist of an amazing story

you are though—its called your life

shut the fuck up i wanna struggle fighting demons not struggle with getting out of bed every day

but those are your demons

i am hereby naming you as the antagonist and now it is my sole job to find you and hit you in the face with a chair for that bitch ass comment you just made

Reblogged from pausemeplayme  611 notes

There’s a woman in my building
who hides her heart between her legs
in the hopes that maybe then she might actually
feel something.
See, around here, girls grow up on the sidelines
of their own bodies:
taught their “virtue” belongs to boys
before it ever belongs to themselves.
There are words you just don’t say and
all of them are slang words for vaginas.

There’s a little girl down the street
too young for this kind of heartache.
She sprays perfume on the unseen monster
between her thighs
as a gift for the boy she thinks
she’s fallen in love with—
afraid he’ll leave without reason to stay,
afraid he’ll be too disgusted by the new hair
below her belly
to even touch her.

We grow up grooming the good from our bodies.
Grow up the enemy.
Eve and the apple,
Pandora and the box:
taught women are the root of all evil,
our bodies the fiendish unholy,
temptation incarnate.
Like succubi of the subway,
they call it our fault
that men turn to animals in the road.

Generations of girls huddled beneath the sheets,
guilty hands between their guilty thighs,
convinced that touching themselves
is the worst kind of crime.
Meanwhile the boys on the street
gather in groups and crow at the breasts
of the girls who pass by.

But boys will be boys, right?
Best to let sleeping bitches lie.

By IF I SOUND ANGRY, IT’S BECAUSE I’M FURIOUS, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)

Reblogged from vodkandtitties  130,488 notes

Tease the fuck out of me.

ccc0urtney:

Pin me down and gently drag your lips and fingertips all over my skin. Put your mouth on my neck and use your teeth to send chills down my spine. Climb on top of me. Look deep into my eyes. Press that cunning smile against my wanting lips. Bite my lip. Make me whimper. Pull my hair. Help me let out some sweet little moans for you. Whisper in my ear everything you could do to me, everything you want to do to me…then don’t. Make me want it. Make my body beg for it.