© racheyzane
rome is also built on ruins
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Callen. 16. Southern California.

“Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be.”
-Clementine Paddleford
1/9/2014
210,678 notes

andicakess:

This really shows the true spirit of the Olympic games. Turkish runner Merve Aydin injured herself during an 800m heat, but still carried on a whole lap visibly in excruciating pain before limping over the finish line and falling to the floor in tears to the cheers of 80,000 fans in the Olympic stadium. Respect

Major respect.


30/8/2014
112 notes

The world is full of women
who’d tell me I should be ashamed of myself
if they had the chance. Quit dancing.
Get some self-respect
and a day job.
Right. And minimum wage,
and varicose veins, just standing
in one place for eight hours
behind a glass counter
bundled up to the neck, instead of
naked as a meat sandwich.
Selling gloves, or something.
Instead of what I do sell.
You have to have talent
to peddle a thing so nebulous
and without material form.
Exploited, they’d say. Yes, any way
you cut it, but I’ve a choice
of how, and I’ll take the money.

I do give value.
Like preachers, I sell vision,
like perfume ads, desire
or its facsimile. Like jokes
or war, it’s all in the timing.
I sell men back their worse suspicions:
that everything’s for sale,
and piecemeal. They gaze at me and see
a chain-saw murder just before it happens,
when thigh, ass, inkblot, crevice, tit, and nipple
are still connected.
Such hatred leaps in them,
my beery worshippers! That, or a bleary
hopeless love. Seeing the rows of heads
and upturned eyes, imploring
but ready to snap at my ankles,
I understand floods and earthquakes, and the urge
to step on ants. I keep the beat,
and dance for them because
they can’t. The music smells like foxes,
crisp as heated metal
searing the nostrils
or humid as August, hazy and languorous
as a looted city the day after,
when all the rape’s been done
already, and the killing,
and the survivors wander around
looking for garbage
to eat, and there’s only a bleak exhaustion.
Speaking of which, it’s the smiling
tires me out the most.
This, and the pretence
that I can’t hear them.
And I can’t, because I’m after all
a foreigner to them.
The speech here is all warty gutturals,
obvious as a slab of ham,
but I come from the province of the gods
where meanings are lilting and oblique.
I don’t let on to everyone,
but lean close, and I’ll whisper:
My mother was raped by a holy swan.
You believe that? You can take me out to dinner.
That’s what we tell all the husbands.
There sure are a lot of dangerous birds around.

Not that anyone here
but you would understand.
The rest of them would like to watch me
and feel nothing. Reduce me to components
as in a clock factory or abattoir.
Crush out the mystery.
Wall me up alive
in my own body.
They’d like to see through me,
but nothing is more opaque
than absolute transparency.
Look—my feet don’t hit the marble!
Like breath or a balloon, I’m rising,
I hover six inches in the air
in my blazing swan-egg of light.
You think I’m not a goddess?
Try me.
This is a torch song.
Touch me and you’ll burn.

margaret atwood, helen of troy does countertop dancing (via ilvalentinos)

29/8/2014
28,702 notes

colinfirth:

She responds to insults with humor. Tucker Carlson, co-host of CNN’s “Crossfire,” claimed that he would eat his “shoes [and] tie” if “Living History” sold one million copies. According to the New York Times, Clinton dropped by the “Crossfire” set with a giant brown shoe made of chocolate cake and a signed copy of her memoir for Carlson after the book sold over a million copies in its first month. Pure class.

— and 64 other reasons why Hills is a badass

#damn it feels good to be a gangsta.mp3


28/8/2014
747 notes

balongreyjoy:

10 ASOIAF moments I want to see onscreen »

“I am unwed,” announced Left-Hand Lucas Codd.
          “And for good reason,” Asha said, “All women do despise the Codds as well. Don’t look at me so mournful, Lucas. You still have your famous hand.” She made a pumping motion with her fist.
          Codd cursed, till the Crow’s Eye put a hand upon his chest. “Was that courteous, Asha? You have wounded Lucas to the quick.”
          “Easier than wounding him in the prick. I throw an axe as well as any man, but when the target is so small…”
          “The girl forgets herself,” snarled Pinchface Jon Myre. “Balon let her believe she was a man.”
          “Your father made the same mistake with you,” said Asha.
          “Give her to me, Euron,” suggested the Red Oarsman. “I’ll spank her till her arse is as red as my hair.”
          “Come try,” said Asha, “and hereafter we can call you the Red Eunuch.” A throwing axe was in her hand. She tossed it in the air and caught it deftly.


27/8/2014
61 notes
'Brother,' he wept, 'my heart is being cut in two. I cannot bear it.'
‘Tscha!’ said the Tsar of Birds. ‘Life is like that.’
Deathless, Catherynne M. Valente (via formerlymyladymother)

26/8/2014
76,424 notes

@WorstMuse


25/8/2014
2,345 notes

24/8/2014
14,699 notes

23/8/2014
1 note

hello germany is great i am incredibly sick and there is no wifi


23/8/2014
8 notes
I love you, Alina. Even the part of you that loved him.
Shadow and Bone (via dreaofhyrule)