there is something dangerous about the boredom of teenage girls

i am a good girl; i wear your dresses and curl my hair and my lashes and my fingers into fists that don’t unfold.

i am a monster; there is an ocean of blood between my hands, gushing from my wolf’s teeth and claws. i laugh and it feels a lot like howling. i smile and it sounds a lot like a warning.


witches of the world: american suburbs

we were quiet, compliant, agreeable. we were cheerleaders and organised bake sales and attended our school discos. we accepted that we too would marry our high school sweethearts and move to pastel clapboard houses and attend garden parties and PTA meetings.but we wanted to enjoy the years of freedom that we still had left.


A SUBURBAN GOTHIC COLLECTION: perpetual state of decay

[suburban haze]

The crew gets meat at midnight, but they never can go far. They hold each other too close and lie about who they are. Rows of perfect houses, but the mothers still want more. They chain smoke in the bedroom and there’s fights behind the door.

[high school lovers]

But fate is a cruel mistress, girl, the prettiest in the world. She dresses loosely in a bathrobe with her hair up in curls. Because we were kissing for hours with her hands in my trousers, she could not contain herself, suggests we go back to her house. But here it comes, this is the crux, she vomits down my rental tux.

[blurred nights]

I have dreamt about what it’s like to die. And I saw myself becoming shadows again. Just like I did when I was a kid. I saw my bones crack open and all the things I’ve been hiding from you spill out.

[boredom of teenage girls]

Milkshakes and cat eyes, lipstick and french fries. Internalize so much but so little. Don’t make us feel belittled world. Sneaking cigarrettes at lunchtime, sun feels safe and sublime. Pink sparkly sunglasses, lemonade by the pool.

[throwing bottles]

By the light of the LED display of the VCR recorder, you kiss my neck, I whisper in your ear: this is my downfall. As you squint and you grimace, we both know your heart’s not in it.


And all we see, are kids in buses longing to be free. Some cities make you lose your head, endless suburbs stretched out thin and dead. And what was that line you said? Wishing you were anywhere but here. You watch the life you’re living disappear. And now I see, we’re still kids in buses longing to be free.

anonymous asked:

So like, the whole girlhood gothic thing kind of struck a chord with me, and I want to maybe find out more about it. But like, where do I start? Are there any books you would say fit this concept particularly well? Anything else you would recommend?

Follow up to the question I just sent: I just wanted to say that I like the idea of girlhood being something dark and angry, something searching and restless and seething. And that’s not something I’ve really been able to find easily in media before? So I just thought you might have recs. Thanks for reading.

YOOO I GOT YOU COVERED BABE this is my fave thing to talk abt!!


• anything by gillian flynn, obviously. sharp objects and gone girl especially.
• dare me, the fever and the end of everything by megan abbott, again, obviously
• the asylum for wayward victorian girls by emilie autumn if u squint
• the women in the walls by amy lukavics
• the virgin suicides by jeffrey eugenides
• deathless by catherynne m valente touches on this with marya morevna a bit
• the secret history has camilla macaulay
• carrie by stephen king
• christine daaé from phantom of the opera (a great non-villainous example)
• the bell jar by sylvia plath
• ophelia from hamlet


• heathers
• stoker
• the virgin suicides
• kate fuller of from dusk till dawn
• the craft
• young vanessa ives from penny dreadful
• the sisterhood of the night
• laura palmer from twin peaks
• jennifer’s body
• again, christine daaé in the 2004 film version of phantom of the opera, much more so than the book
• christine day in the 1989 film version of phantom of the opera
• the neon demon
• carrie
• violet harmon from american horror story: murder house and almost all the witches from coven
• ginger snaps
• meg giry from love never dies
• cheryl blossom from riverdale
• lucille sharpe from crimson peak when she was young

honestly most of my fave female villains (and sometimes girls that aren’t villains at all, just mad girls like christine or ophelia or emily) were presumably this as teen girls/young women, which is something i like to keep in mind when trying to develop them in fanfic, how i see them, and just misc portrayal. also, there wasn’t enough for a whole music category, but nicole dollanganger and emilie autumn sing about this a lot. thank you so much for asking this, i hope i helped !! if you want to, feel free to add ur own !!

endless list of favourite books
dare me by megan abbott

That’s what people never understand: They see us hard little pretty things, brightly lacquered and sequin-studded, and they laugh, they mock, they arouse themselves. They miss everything. You see, these glitters and sparkle dusts and magicks? It’s war paint, it’s feather and claws, it’s blood sacrifice.

i started my rebellion with a hair tie,
blood red
holding together the night-time of my hair
an exposed artery on my head
in a place where rules
didn’t allow for colour

a girl doesn’t need a blade to start a war.
we rolled up our skirts like rebel flags,
saluting each other
with an inch of skin above the knee;
our colourful watches decorating our wrists 
like naval flags, sending messages in code-
“sleepover tonight. bring knives.
this town doesn’t know what we’re made of.”

the man who taught me algebra tried
to calculate my worth by the curvature,
the size of my growing breasts;
so the girls took his calculator and 
let the numbers block his screams. 
they left a crime scene littered with glitter
to let everyone know - we may be soft
youth-tinged, bright pink,
but our souls are dark and our hearts
are diamond.

the lunch room was no man’s land,
our cliques became platoons-
cheerleaders and débutantes, 
sticking rhinestones on our jackets
like war medals.
we taught ourselves to kill,
to put make up on
with eyeliner sharpened to a point.
my best friend did my nails and said,
“scratch, and you’ll rip their eyes out.
i guarantee.”

we hunt like killers.
sugar and spice cocktails,
stolen vodka mixed with cherries and blood.
stealing hearts and playing games
running from age while the cops
trail behind. 

warsong of the teenage girl | l.x

God help the girl.

She’s got a heart made of glass,
and she loves a girl with careless hands.

Her mouth is as lethal as a knife,
pressed soft against her jugular.

She could heal her  -
or  kill her.

Sometimes she does both.

—  girls with pretty smiles and knives for teeth are the most dangerous, (m.l)

the captain; a beth cassidy playlist

i. seventeen running from innocence like it’s a lion nipping at my heels ii. doll, you make them feel so small, and they love it iii. it’s a mean world that i’ve known, never got no good doing what i’m told iv. smart ass little girl, always on the run, playin’ with fire and daddy’s gun v. they only want you when you’re seventeen, when you’re twenty-one you’re no fun vi. i used to cry but now i don’t have the time, i used to be so fragile but now i’m so wild vii. life is unfair, kill yourself or get over it viii. all the fires i ever started can’t begin to warm me ix. once i wanted to be the greatest, no wind or waterfall could stall me, and then came the rush of the flood x. who’s gonna stop me when i’m coming through?





there are no ocean waves here and no sea mist. only the static of the television, and your cigarette haze. [listen]


girl gangs cruise late at night in a cadillac, and eat boys’ hearts with a side of fries. you taste their exhaust fumes. [listen]


sometimes your body feels lighter than air. you smack your lips and the bubble pops. [listen]

T E E N A G E  G I R L S  +  M Y T H O L O G Y: Persephone

She smells of flowers, like the first day of spring. Her lips are pink from the pomegranate juice that she sucks from a carton, sat barefoot on the grass outside as she skips class. Head held high, new students make the mistake of thinking she is harmless. They learn their lesson. Sharp objects lurk beneath folds of material, the red of her nail polish there to hide that of a similar colour. She fights, hard and dirty, argues, cries in a bathroom stall, breaks hearts and forgets she has one of her own.


       “Something I cannot name passes between them, and then Pip’s lips           are on Fee’s in a deep kiss, as if they feed on one another, their                     fingers entwined in each other’s hair. And suddenly, I understand                 what I must have always known about them—the private talks, the               close embraces, the tenderness of their friendship.”