1. fyeahbookbinding:

    How To: Headbands by from Hell to Breakfest.

    Detailed tutorial on how to make headbands for your book. 

     
  2. happylittlecourfeyrac:

    I’m pretty sure George Blagden isnt a real person

    (Source: melswilliams, via flamboyant-enjolras)

     
  3. "I watched a lot of documentaries on post-traumatic stress and a lot of army documentaries about the training programs and some of the extreme sort of circumstances that some of those guys that are training to be Navy SEALs and some who are a part of it go through. I was trying to understand what it is, what it means for someone to be desensitized, to no longer question hurting something. I did as much research on all that stuff as I could in order to kind of know what that was like. And then my stepdad actually has Alzheimer’s, so there were parts about watching and studying that kind of disease, also, observing people like that that kind of helped me a little bit.”SEBASTIAN STAN

    (Source: lilkisara, via themaraudersaredead)

     

  4. "Ever notice how, when we’re kids,
    they call us boys and girls.
    And there’s no wiggle room in titles like that.
    And maybe it feels a little suffocating,
    and maybe it feels right.
    But I grew up, found my curves and my voice—
    hair in the places we’re not allowed to talk about.
    And all I hear about are, even now, all these men
    and girls.
    Girls.
    Like while they were busy getting older,
    I got stuck in this prepubescent wet dream,
    where boys with hungry hands run fingers
    down my hairless thighs
    and heave humid breaths at the seam of my neck.
    See,
    I noticed men have this way
    of using infantile language like love poems.
    You’re his “girl”—
    You’re always gonna be his “girl”
    He rattles it off like the sweetest kind of promise,
    and dresses you up in your best doll clothes,
    and this is what you’ve got.
    This is what you’re given.
    Ladies! How many of your fathers ever told you
    you would always be Daddy’s Little Girl,
    even after you were paying your own mortgage?
    And exactly how many eight year old boys
    have watched fathers go off to work,
    go off to war,
    to get told they’re man of the house, now.
    Even though they’ve got two older sisters,
    with high school diplomas,
    even though they’ve got a mother
    with hands made of the same kind of marble
    they build monuments out of—
    but no.
    That little boy, can’t even reach over the counter,
    that little boy, he’s a man, now.
    I don’t know how many years I’m expected
    to stave off the rougher parts of womanhood.
    I gotta buff out my wrinkles,
    I gotta paint on my face.
    They don’t get to see all of the things that make me.
    See, I’ve got these beautiful stretch marks
    that break like creamy tributaries
    over my thighs.
    So I wanna know, what makes me girl
    and what makes me woman?
    And how come I’m not the one
    who gets to decide?"
    — Girl, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)

    (via latenightcornerstore)

     

  5. "

    The old woman on the corner stops me on my way to work.
    She has eyes like fog lights in the middle of the rain
    and smiles like someone with secrets.
    The old woman knows me better than I do.
    The old woman asks what I’m so afraid of.

    Truth is, I tell her,
    the storm that hung back all winter finally
    rolled into the space beneath my ribs and I
    am shouting thunderclaps from my mouth
    just to stop the water level rising.

    I say,
    I’m still chasing a ghost and I will never be proud of that.

    I know what you’re thinking, but
    boys with the sky in their lungs are bad for you,
    and I’d been shotgunning ozone off his kisses so long,
    I forgot how to breathe.

    I say,
    you can listen to your heart,
    but you can’t lead with it.
    And I think I’ve spent my whole life
    with my heart out in front of me.

    I tell her,
    he was all pebbled clouds
    and spoonfuls of starlight.
    I tell her,
    I loved him and I was so afraid.

    She holds my hand so softly, and smiles
    one step at a time
    like a roadmap unfolding.
    She says,
    The fear is good, little lightningstorm,
    The fear is good.

    "
    — LITTLE LIGHTNINGSTORM, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)

    (via latenightcornerstore)

     

  6. "Four in the morning on my couch and we
    are getting drunk on sweet wine,
    like the indulgence of the gods—
    Bacchus. Dionysus.
    We crawl into each other’s mouths,
    hungry.
    You left the stove on and I imagine
    that red hot coil and I
    have too much in common—
    I imagine
    the smoke and mirror of your skin
    and how you pulled me from your hat
    but I never found a home in you.
    I did get lost there, for a while,
    as though you were every country back road
    I’m not supposed to take at night.
    People don’t travel down you
    for a reason.
    They know better.
    But not me.
    Tree sap on your tongue while I
    walk blind into the forest of your chest.
    While I find Artemis among your ribs,
    while I go wading through wilderness.
    She didn’t kill me,
    but she held on so long,
    with teeth like the wolf
    and rabbit fur in her fists.
    Call me Little Red Riding Hood.
    Call me Little Bo Peep.
    Call me something small and unassuming:
    the red-breasted bird with the blood on its beak.
    If you were hunting season, then I
    was the broken wings—
    the place where I learned that
    perfect aim is a mercy.
    The place where I learned that you
    were the bad kind
    of a good thing."
    — HUNTING SEASON, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)

    (via latenightcornerstore)

     

  7. sundaymorningcompanion said: What would you want to plant in all of your readers' minds? What do you want everyone to know about the world or themselves?

    latenightcornerstore:

    You are worth it and you have always been worth it and the world will crow at you but you can roar back.

     

  8. "Men write universal stories. Women write stories for girls. Men write Literature. Women write chick lit. Even in a world where women do publish in heavier numbers than men do, they are underscored, underseen, and undervalued. Twilight is and will remain a crucial part of YA’s history — YA’s female-driven history — despite or in spite of the fact it doesn’t garner the same praises that those held up as idols within the community do. Men like John Green become symbols of YA’s forward progress and Seriousness as a category, whereas Stephenie Meyer gets to be a punchline."
     

  9. "You were the one who held his hand
    after the fist fight that left his knuckles
    like red wine on fresh-turned dirt.
    All this time, and I always wanted to ask
    if his blood on your hands
    felt some kind of sacred.
    I don’t think either of us were ever
    any good for him.
    Because you loved him bruised,
    and I loved him bloody—
    I know how it sounds, believe me, and
    I have torn through rabbit holes
    hunting for a better heart,
    but I’ve got a weak spot for broken boys
    and that
    is my most disgusting feature.
    You may not have loved him well,
    but at least you loved him halfway whole.
    Me? I would have kissed
    the broken teeth from his mouth
    and kept them all for myself.
    I would have cracked open his crème brûlée chest
    and eaten out the insides—
    hung up his twisted x-rays on my walls
    so I could never forget the look of a ruined heart.
    I don’t break them myself, you see.
    I just go collecting in the aftermath.
    Grave robber for the still alive:
    I may not kill anyone,
    but I have never been afraid
    to take what I need
    to survive."
    — Bad Habits, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)

    (via themaraudersaredead)

     

  10. "

    There’s this great myth out there that we call the “Over-consumption Myth,” which goes: If you earn a decent income, and you’re in trouble financially, it must be because you’re blowing all your money at the Gap, and TGIF. The myth is so powerful, it almost seems like heresy to question it. But when we actually looked into the data on what real families actually spend, it’s just not true. An average family of four actually spends less on clothing than their parents did a generation ago, adjusted for inflation. That includes all the Tommy Hilfiger sweatshirts and all the Nike sneakers. How does this work? Well we forget all the things we don’t spend money on anymore — how many kids have leather shoes for Sunday school anymore? How many people dress up in wool suits for work everyday?

    The point is that families today are spending their money no more foolishly than their parents did. And yet they’re five times more likely to go bankrupt, and three times more likely to lose their homes. Families are going broke on the basics —housing, health insurance, and education. These are the kind of bills that you can’t just trim around the edges in the event of a downturn.

    "