dark star

Raven Constantine. An artist, a mother, a fighter, a bar tender.

[watchoutforintellect]

I was your insomnia, I was your grief.

Anna Akhmatova, from The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova (via watchoutforintellect)

[wnq-anonymous]

Stop minimizing and discounting your feelings. You have every right to feel the way you do. Your feelings may not always be logical, but they are always valid. Because if you feel something, then you feel it and it’s real to you. It’s not something you can ignore or wish away. It’s there, gnawing at you, tugging at your core, and in order to find peace, you have to give yourself permission to feel whatever it is you feel. You have to let go of what you’ve been told you should or shouldn’t feel. You have to drown out the voices of people who try to shame you into silence. You have to listen to the sound of your own breathing and honor the truth inside you. Because despite what you may believe, you don’t need anyone’s validation or approval to feel what you feel. Your feelings are inherently right and true. They’re important and they matter — you matter — and it is more than okay to feel what you feel. Don’t let anyone, including yourself, convince you otherwise.

Daniell Koepke (via wordsnquotes)

[lifeinpoetry]

… her sad smile like that sadness we feel after sex, those few delirious hours when we needed nothing but breath and flesh, after we’ve flown back into ourselves, our imperfect heavy bodies, just before the terrible hunger returns.

Dorianne Laux, from “Graveyard at Hurd’s Gulch,” What We Carry (via lifeinpoetry)

[aseaofquotes]

Ann Aguirre, Doubleblind

Submitted by randomkiwibirds.

[wnq-anonymous]

You are not weak just because your heart feels so heavy.

Andrea Gibson  (via thatkindofwoman)

[larmoyante]

It happens like this. One day you meet someone and for some inexplicable reason, you feel more connected to this stranger than anyone else—closer to them than your closest family. Perhaps this person carries within them an angel—one sent to you for some higher purpose; to teach you an important lesson or to keep you safe during a perilous time. What you must do is trust in them—even if they come hand in hand with pain or suffering—the reason for their presence will become clear in due time. Though here is a word of warning—you may grow to love this person but remember they are not yours to keep. Their purpose isn’t to save you but to show you how to save yourself. And once this is fulfilled; the halo lifts and the angel leaves their body as the person exits your life. They will be a stranger to you once more.

Lang Leav, Love & Misadventure (via larmoyante)

[fleurishes]

silly girl, you bled for him, didn’t you? grew out your hair, shrunk down your waist, let him fuck you with the lights off and paint his name in blood onto your back. silly girl, forgive yourself for the bad dates, for saying yes, for meaning no, for the diets, the discounted liquor, the makeup you painted onto your face like camouflage. your dreams were made for the dark, they bloom and grow inside of you. your womb, a greenhouse. your hands, wind. you were in love except he didn’t love you, but you tried, didn’t you? silly girl, you are not the most reliable narrator. all those nights you waited up to hear from him, phone poised in your hand like a gun. you’ve always loved things that were the worst for you: trans fat, sweet tea, Black Friday sales, boys whose hands feel like triggers. you’ll grow out of it, or you won’t, and you’ll forget to delete the voicemails, the emojis you sent when you couldn’t express yourself in words. just look at the quiet shipwreck of you. it was always about the drowning, and you never learned to swim.

Kristina Haynes, “Silly Girl” (via fleurishes)

[lifeinpoetry]

"I don’t let anyone touch me," I finally said… "Why not?" Why not? Because I was tired of men. Hanging in doorways, standing too close, their smell of beer or fifteen-year-old whiskey. Men who didn’t come to the emergency room with you, men who left on Christmas Eve. Men who slammed the security gates, who made you love them and then changed their minds. Forests of boys, their ragged shrubs full of eyes following you, grabbing your breasts, waving their money, eyes already knocking you down, taking what they felt was theirs. Because I could still see a woman in a red bathrobe crawling in the street. A woman on a roof in the wind, mute and strange. Women with pills, with knives, women dyeing their hair. Women painting doorknobs with poison for love, making dinners too large to eat, firing into a child’s room at close range. It was a play and I knew how it ended, I didn’t want to audition for any of the roles. It was no game, no casual thrill. It was three-bullet Russian roulette.

Janet Fitch, from White Oleander (via lifeinpoetry)

[aseaofquotes]

Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart

[thewilliamsinclair-blog]

Well, excuse me for messing up the distinction. Well, during college and after, you did get better at disguising it, even if you’ve obviously reverted back to doing it.

Yes, I’m not sure what the world would do if you weren’t wearing as little clothes as possible and feeding people unhealthy things.

[ravenconstantine]

I really don't think I can, excuse you that is.  It's inexcusable, actually.--What can I say?  It's a survival technique.

Fall into disrepair, probably.

[aseaofquotes]

[aseaofquotes]

Sebastian Barry, On Canaan’s Side

[mickeyandmumbles]

[weareshadows-rp-blog-blog]

"It’s not like that," Leo insisted. That was money that was kept in excess while other people had little. It was money acquired by a man who had never done a serious day’s work in his life. It was inherited, not earned. It was disseminated by a sister to her pathetic, downtrodden brother out of pity (and with visible distaste). “I’m not like that.” Then came the infinitesimal smile again, just at the outer edge. A fond smile. “The illustrations, without fail, didn’t look a whole lot like the real thing. But they were somehow more beautiful; well, more interesting.” He sighed, thinking a moment. “They made sense to me,” he finally decided on. “It was familiar, like my world is a child’s likeness. Slightly off-kilter, but in the ballpark. It rings true to life, but it isn’t quite right.” His shoulders dropped, and then he shook his head, another minute movement. “Sorry. That was nonsense.” 

[ravenconstantine]

"I know" She assured him.  From what little time she had spent with the man, she could tell that he wasn't like that.  From what she could tell, he differed from the men and woman of money who used it as a way to separate themselves from the general public, to isolate themselves even further from the working class.  It seemed like the sort of privilege he experienced or actually took part in was the sort that gave one better opportunities, better experiences, much like he was explaining with the children he taught.  Something that fascinated her, as she just couldn't understand it, she couldn't even imaging being able to do something like that.  Hell, she was shamed for going to a regular highschool rather than a VOC Tech school, she couldn't even picture what it would be like going to a school where drawing and studying flowers was part of the curriculum.  She had to wonder, if she had, if she'd be different.--"Not really. " she commented, her mind wandering, contemplating what he had said, because it someways, their were childish characteristics in him, at least some that she had noticed.  He had an unbroken hope, a sort of naive anticipation of what something had to offer.  And from what she had observed, a lack of social filter, something she saw in her own son every day.--"At least, it made sense to me."

[larmoyante]

First Love came with a contract that it wanted me to sign in blood, that I would always be the girl I was at 18. First Love came with dirty hands, ready to shape me into half of what First Love thought we could be. First Love was cocky and drunk, daring the world to fight us. First Love was stupid and reckless, making promises it couldn’t keep. First Love was cold and quiet, leaving before it was left and when it left, First Love left with the air in my lungs. First Love left with the belief in my bones. First Love left with deflated vows and cracked certainty and a heart that was reaching for something I couldn’t see. When First Love left, I burned the contract and let myself grow.

Fortesa Latifi, First Love (via larmoyante)

[ravenconstantine]

fresh beginnings | raven & nico | flashback

[kiernan-laugherty]

Nico almost had to laugh when he pulled up to the bar.  The address had seemed familiar, but he had no goddamned idea why.  Leave it to the family to buy the bar in which Nico committed a crime that had him sent away for a decade.  Leave it to them to tell him that he’d be running it.  They sure had a sick sense of humor. — He explored the back bits of the bar, the parts he never saw all those years ago when he was only a customer, before deciding to get to work.  It became obvious to him that no one had cleaned up from the previous night, and Nico found himself cleaning tables and washing glasses.  Nico had become entirely wrapped in the mind-numbing work, his head somewhere else entirely when he heard the automated music play, signaling that someone had opened the door.  Without looking up, he called out 

”Not open, learn how to read.”

[ravenconstantine]

Raven was a bit taken aback when the door started playing a tune and practically shouted "Score!" at her as soon as she walked in, but was even more taken aback by the rude greeting she received.  "Uh, excuse me?" she called out to the figure she assumed was the owner of the voice, a brow raised in his direction.  Nonetheless, she made her way deeper into the bar, having to peel her foot off the floor at one point, due to her misfortune of stepping in some gum.   Approaching the bar and the figure, she crossed her arms defensively.  "I did not get up this early and drag my ass all the way down here on my first day off in months to hear that.  So, can you tell me if you have positions open?"  She'd so much rather be at home with Ryan, and she was sure that came across on her face, giving the man a look telling him he should not cross her.

[weareshadows-rp-blog-blog]

"I’m looking forward to it," he said gently, attempting to insert some shred of sarcasm into his speech. It wasn’t there. He was genuinely excited to begin working. Working was the only thing that distanced him from his father; far enough for his liking, anyway. Leo laced his fingers together, then nodded toward the arrangement. “The flowers. We used to do a flower encyclopedia in my class. They’d press them and draw a likeness, then put the scientific name and the season they bloomed with it.” His eyes crinkled, sending his brows clashing together. 

[ravenconstantine]

"Demeaning as it can be, you can make some real bank." She replied, picking up and fooling around with a petal of her own, before adding "Not that that seems to be a worry of yours." She remembered him mentioning off hand that it was money that his sister gave him, and Raven couldn't help but wonder if his sister was just a wealthy woman or rather if Leo came from a wealthy family. "That sounds...Very interesting." she conceded.  It did, it really did, but Raven just couldn't see the practical use for it, unless one was training to become a botanist.  Everything in Raven's life was about practicality, it always had been, she never had the luxury for anything but.

[weareshadows-rp-blog-blog]

"Thanking my lucky stars the sports bar doesn’t have these kind of baubles," he breathed as he rubbed the smooth surface beneath the pad of his thumb. "Though there’ll be more than enough food debris for me to bus." His eyes trailed upward slowly, tentatively, waiting to elicit any kind of reaction to the idea of them working together. He shifted his legs awkwardly to his left, trying to be as small as possible. Leo had noted her own slim limbs—how could he not—but was careful not to let his gaze linger. Instead, he addressed her eyes once more. "Lillium Stargazer,” Leo blurted, though somewhat absently. 

[ravenconstantine]

"Oh but we have plenty of assholes to make up for it." She chuckled, leaning forward, placing her chin in the palm of her hand.  "Amongst other things." she responded mysteriously, remembering the time she had found a used condom amongst the debris of the night.  She had no idea why it was there, as it wasn't like any of the men there actually got layed with their '#meninist' shirts and bigoted views.--She was hard on them, although not all of them were horrible.  "Excuse me?"