If you tell me to fight like a girl. I will. I will show no mercy and rain havoc on everything. I will rage and burn. After all, you asked for it. I fought like a girl.

as if “fight like a girl” was an insult (via alessiascara)

sometimes i feel like there is something else in the place where my heart should be. i wonder —  what sight awaits you if i strip myself of all the smoke and mirrors and peel back my ribs, bare all that which lies beneath, the thing that shies from human eyes? will you find yourself staring into a bottled-up inferno or face-to-face with charred, black ruins, the remains of a girl who once knew how to love?

OCEAN M. (via mangkukulam)

they teach you to love hunger; to turn your stomach into an unfilled grave so you will always have enough space to bury things : homelands, war zones, nightmares, black eyes, broken ribs, love letters, fathers.

Scherezade Siobhan, from “Bone Tongue”  (via regencyresource)

I’ll swallow my blood before I swallow my pride.

Al Capone (via sometypeofblog)

CASPIAN HAYES.

“What’s your definition of inventive, then?” he asked, curiosity piqued. He’d definitely had more than one slow night at work - any solution to that slowness would be appreciated. Anything was better than standing behind the bar and cleaning a glass that he’d already cleaned fifteen minutes prior. “Here’s the deal, I keep supplying ‘til we close, and you hang out and keep me company. I don’t need my mind hallucinating water spots on glasses that I know I’ve cleaned already.” Fingertips tracing the edge of the bar just to feel something, he gave her a smirk. 

—

     “ ah, now isn't that the million-dollar question? ” alaia's frame leaned back in the stool, her plump lips sliding into a subtle smirk. “ it all depends on how creative you're willing to go, ” she teased, evident mirth ringing in her voice. tipping her head back then, chestnut tresses cascading along the length of her spine, she drained the remnants in her glass before placing it atop the bar with an audible clink. “ i'll have another, if you're not too busy. ” an impish grin claimed her mouth, the tips of her fingers drumming against the marble counter. as inky pupils lingered upon the male, alaia gave a small hum of feigned contemplation at his proposal. “ that sounds like the ideal solution to me. looks like you've got yourself a deal. though, you must know — i'm a real stickler when it comes to watermarks on glasses. ” once again, she was joking, this much evident in her tone and how another smirk played upon her features.

Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive.

Josephine Hart, Damage (via syntacked)

you’re a forest fire with dangerous eyes and a treacherous heartbeat

thoughts #215 | r.m (via rmeisel)

(…) a burnt child loves the fire.

Oscar Wilde, from The Picture Of Dorian Gray

(via

adrasteiax

)

I’ve never had anyone’s approval, so I’ve learned to live without it.

Pat Conroy, The Great Santini (via thearchvillainess)

I brought a knife to the gunfight. I am the knife / I am all blade.

Clementine von Radics, from “Vigil,” Dream Girl (via cherylblosscm)