"I am like decay; I rot the ground that guides your way"

Here are the women with ancient
anger in their veins and the cruelty
of a goddess in their hearts.

You will beg before her, you
will scream; but Hera never flinched
from the words of a mortal,

so why should she?

Do not stand in her way.

She will burn down your kingdoms,
herself with it, if it meant
your ruin.

- Medea /// (d.s)


Chief Dan George 


"you’ll understand when you’re older"

i am older and i understand absolutely nothing


i love the term “partners”
are we dating?
are we robbing a bank?
do we run a legal firm?
are we the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies and are members of an elite squad known as the special victims unit?
who knows.


I’m crying so hard right now guys, it’s taking a lot of effort to type properly, my vision’s all blurry from the tears and not wearing my glasses

This is my arm, covered in butterflies as part of The Butterfly Project. All are in various states of fading, except for that shiny new one, with the polka dots, which is why I’m crying.

I just got back from walking to Cosmo’s, a cafe near my house that I go to often. While I was sitting there, waiting for my drink, a man (who seemed maybe in his mid to late thirties, like 36 at the most) tapped my shoulder. I was already on-edge because I was by myself, something I don’t do often, so a strange man talking to me made me jumpy.

He had a serious look on his face, and he pointed to my arm. “Those butterflies on your arm. Are they for The Butterfly Project?”

Still flustered, and now embarrassed, I told him yes they were. “For yourself, or did you do them for your friend?” he asked. I told him that they were for myself.

“Can I sit?” he asked, and I said something like “Yeah, sure.” cause I was still all nervous and stuff

He then pulls a black Sharpie out of his pocket. “Would you please let me draw a butterfly on your arm?”

I almost started crying right there. A complete stranger wanted to give me a butterfly. I told him yes and gave him my arm, and he drew that beautiful polka-dotted butterfly right there.

I asked him how he knew of The Butterfly Project, and he told me this:

“I found out about it last year. My… My son committed suicide, because some kids at his school were bullying him because they found out he was gay. After that, I looked up as many suicide prevention and self-harm help things I could. I don’t want anyone to commit suicide or harm themselves for any reason.”

I didn’t know what to say- I’m not very good with words. I told him I was sorry that he had to lose his son like that, and I thanked him profusely for the butterfly.

We talked for a while about things; self-harm, homosexuality, bullying. When I had to go, I stood and he hugged me and said “I love you. Please, don’t ever harm yourself again. I know it’s hard, resisting the urge, but please stay strong for me.”

I had to bite my tongue to hold back the tears. I said I’d try my hardest, and he smiled and left.

I never asked his name. I wish I would have, because that man is one of the kindest, most beautiful souls I have ever met. I wish I could thank him again.


I have a HUGE issue with the kpop/jpop industry in that firstly it is fatphobic as fuck. the girls in kpop/jpop groups are constantly forced to go on crazy diets like for example the “lettuce diet” where they’re only allowed to eat lettuce to stay skinny and if they’re even a kilogram “overweight” they’ll be fat shamed and mocked and told they’re not worthy, despite the fact that they’re actually still slim and nowhere close to being fat (which shouldn’t be seen as a problem but it is). idols are constantly being watched and every single thing they do are policed.

another problem is the male fans. yes I am aware that #NotAllMen are guilty of this but it’s so obvious that the “no dating” rule (they’re allowed to date but it must be kept a complete secret, nobody can know) applied to young k-idols and j-idols are there to cater to those creepy males which make up such a large amount of the male fandom and their fantasies. these idols need to keep up this “youthful and innocent” appearance which is undoubtedly there to please the male fandom who are so obsessed with the “purity” of the girls. so many of them (and honestly I’ve seen so many of you on the dash do this too) infantize these girls and at the same sexualise them and it’s creepy as hell, prime example is Kyary Pamyu Pamyu, who is known for her “childish” appearance and yall are absolutely obsessed and sexualise the hell out of her and it’s disgusting.

these are giant flaws in the industry and I just thought to bring it up because I feel like it’s not talked about enough and its a huge problem. the treatment of the girls is appalling and heavily misogynistic and it actually needs to stop


The Mess We’re In - PJ Harvey 

no need for words now
we sit in silence
you look me in the eye directly
you met me

I think it’s wednesday
the evening
the mess we’re in


Radio 21, Brussels, Belgium // 02.06.1999

Where you come from is gone, where you thought you were going to was never there, and where you are is no good unless you can get away from it. Where is there a place for you to be? No place… Nothing outside you can give you any place… In yourself right now is all the place you’ve got.
- Flannery O’Connor, Wise Blood


Autumn landscapes, Vincent van Gogh

AUTHOR OF THE DAY: Virginia Woolf

Virginia Woolf was born on January 25, 1882 in London, England. Born into a privilege household filled with free-thinkers, Woolf was able to develop her talent from an early age. 

Growing up in an intellectually and artistically well-connected family, Woolf was allowed to hone her writing skills when she first created a family newspaper, the Hyde Park Gate News in her childhood. Woolf was known for being extremely light-hearted and playful and recorded family anecdotes in her newspaper. 

Although Woolf was a happy child, she experienced a dark period at the age of 6, when she was sexually abused by her half-brothers. This traumatic event was deepened by the sudden death of her mother at the age of 49, which propelled her into a nervous breakdown. Two years later her half-sister passed away, which added to her depression. 

Despite her despair, Woolf intellectually fed herself by taking courses in German, Greek and Latin at the Ladies’ Department of King’s College London. Then in 1904 her father passed away, which pushed her to be institutionalized. This pattern between literary exploration and personal desperation and despair reigned in her lifetime. 

Although bouts of depression and severe mood swings plagued Woolf, her literary career soared. She was famous for playing with several literary devices, such as dream-like scenes, free form prose, complicated plot lines and unusual narrative point of views. By her mid-forties, Woolf had established herself as a household name. She habitually spoke in several colleges and wrote compelling essays and self-published short stories.

Woolf was able to find love with a man named, Leonard; they remained sweethearts for life. He was extremely aware and supportive of Woolf’s internal conflict. While working on Between the Acts, Leonard noticed her inevitable demise. During this time their home was destroyed in London during the Blitz. Leonard, a Jewish man, was in danger of being captured by the Nazis. This detrimental fact pushed Woolf into her suicide. On March 28, 1941, Woolf filled the pockets of her overcoat with stones and walked out into the River Ouse, where the stream took her. In her last note to her loving husband she wrote:

"Dearest, I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times. And I shan’t recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can’t concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don’t think two people could have been happier till this terrible disease came. I can’t fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can’t even write this properly. I can’t read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that—everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can’t go on spoiling your life any longer. I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been. V."

After World War II, her popularity declined, but surged in the 1970s, during the feminist movement. Regardless of Virginia Woolf’s demons she is one of the most influential authors of the 21st century. 


Mrs. Dalloway(1925)

To the Lighthouse (1927)

Orlando (1928)

A Room of One’s Own (1929)

The Waves (1931)

Read excerpts by Virginia Woolf here! Get her books here

I want you to be free.
- Anne Carson, from Autobiography Of Red
Each morning a shock

to return to the cut soul.
- Anne Carson, from Autobiography Of Red