Enchanting Stories

The Storybook Tumblr

  • 21st September
    2014
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  • 20th September
    2014
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  • 19th September
    2014
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  • 19th September
    2014
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  • 19th September
    2014
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  • 19th September
    2014
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  • 19th September
    2014
  • 19

This city is made of wolves and gods,
nymphs with hacked off hair and kohled-up eyes,
wide-eyed prophets slurring over a bottle of Jack.

Ares dons leather as he prowls outside the club.
Mottled bruising spills into the half-crescent below
his eye – a bar fight left him bloody, laughing.

Old Lucifer and his host of rebel angels smoke Marlboros
in the alleyway. Abaddon spent the night in a holding cell
last weekend, head bowed and teeth gleaming.

This time, they keep to the shadows. This generation,
these new party monsters slicked with glitter and sweat,
birthed from smoke machines and sticky dancefloors —

well, the prince of darkness knows better than to meddle.

Here, we are the wolves. Divinity had the sense
not to touch us. Instead, we bare our teeth, clutch bottles
like lifelines, soak up the messy beats, hide in the
darkness between the strobe lighting.

In battered neon lights our names are written,
like stars, but less.

coleridges  (via facina-oris)

'nymphs with hacked off hair and kohled up eyes' you have no idea how accurate you are

(via lucklessdarling)

(Source: machiavels, via killingbambi)

  • 19th September
    2014
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  • 19th September
    2014
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Girls are trained to say, ‘I wrote this, but it’s probably really stupid.’ Well, no, you wouldn’t write a novel if you thought it was really stupid. Men are much more comfortable going, ‘I wrote this book because I have a unique perspective that the world needs to hear.’ Girls are taught from the age of seven that if you get a compliment, you don’t go, ‘Thank you’, you go, ‘No, you’re insane.’

Lena Dunham (x)

Why I love her and why you should too.

(via taylorswift)

(Source: mylittlebookofquotes, via perfect-silence)

  • 19th September
    2014
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  • 19th September
    2014
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  • 19th September
    2014
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  • 18th September
    2014
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  • 17th September
    2014
  • 17
I just want to be loved the right way. I want to come home to all of the windows open, the curtains swaying in the wind and the scent of apple pie drifting down the hall. I want to be loved even when I’m quiet and deep in thought gardening. I want a love that admires simplicity.
Give me a love that is two cups of coffee gone cold because we decided to make love on the kitchen floor. Show me a love that fills the spaces between my ribs with passion.
A love that doesn’t fade in the night but whispers “forever” as we fall asleep.
where the romance never dies and the roses never wilt - dah (via whisperingbones)

(via two--drifters)

  • 17th September
    2014
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