“

For the record, I honestly don’t give a fuck how much cock you suck. Suck a thousand cocks. Suck a million cocks. There’s no such thing as a slut. That’s just a lie they told you born out of male anxiety. Anxiety about adultery and misattributed paternity.

Sex isn’t sinful either, though you can trace a lot of sexual repression and misogyny back to the Abrahamic religions. Before Emperor Constantine tried to replace the pagan religions with Christianity, they used to have sex in church. Sacred prostitution. Happened a lot in Mesopotamia, for example. And the Mesopotamians weren’t stupid either. They invented the fucking wheel.

It’s your body to do with as you please. If anyone tries to dictate a dick limit to you, they’re trying to take ownership of your body. And that’s slavery. If they call you a slut, that’s slavery. And I refuse it. Suck an infinite number of cocks for all I care. Just enjoy it.

Benedict Smith

(Source: love-drug-diver)

(Reblogged from mypocketshurt90)
“We mistake sex for romance. Guys are taught that pushing a girl up against a wall is romance. Sex is easy; you can do it with anyone, yourself, with batteries. Romance is when someone you like walks into a room and they take your breath away. Romance is when two people are dancing and they fit together perfectly. Romance is when two people are walking next to each other and all of a sudden they find themselves holding hands, and they don’t know how that happened.”—John C. Moffi 

“We mistake sex for romance. Guys are taught that pushing a girl up against a wall is romance. Sex is easy; you can do it with anyone, yourself, with batteries. Romance is when someone you like walks into a room and they take your breath away. Romance is when two people are dancing and they fit together perfectly. Romance is when two people are walking next to each other and all of a sudden they find themselves holding hands, and they don’t know how that happened.”—John C. Moffi 

(Source: lovesmisery)

(Reblogged from featheronaflume)
“

Don’t ask me about his lips. The way they ruby and burn. Stretch full over white teeth. Soft with desire, taut like a drum. I want him to make music of me.

Don’t ask me about his hands. The way they are scarred with stories. How they slide thick down his legs as I stare. Mouth cotton; eyes hungry.

Don’t ask me about my hunger. The way my stomach drops tight when he looks at me. The way my palms itch for his bones. His tongue. Don’t ask me about my fear. The way he comes to me.

How I open my mouth to say “Yes” and it comes out “I’m sorry.”

Clementine von Radics, His Lips
(Reblogged from clementinevonradics)
“
I bet if we dusted her heart for fingerprints, we’d only find yours.
Rudy Francisco

(Source: in-finitus)

(Reblogged from howtoleavetheozarks)
“
Eventually you forgive people for not knowing about you the things you’ve spent your life keeping from them.
Robert Brault

(Source: creatingaquietmind)

(Reblogged from palequeenliteraryquotes)
this is my cousin Chris Pace, and he is currently missing. he drives a 1996-1997 black ford explorer with CT plates. if you see him or have any information, PLEASE let me know. his family loves him very much and we are all very worried. reblog and spread the word. View high resolution

this is my cousin Chris Pace, and he is currently missing. he drives a 1996-1997 black ford explorer with CT plates. if you see him or have any information, PLEASE let me know. his family loves him very much and we are all very worried. reblog and spread the word.

jiruchan:

kieradoe:

whatsortofamandoesntcarryatrowel:

Dad: Why do you think they do that?
Girl: Because the companies who make these try to trick the girls into buying the pink stuff instead of stuff boys want to buy. [x]

that awkward moment when a child understands the harm of forcing gender roles better than most grown male politicians.

Always reblog.

I’m surprised that I haven’t reblogged this, to be honest.

Proof that children can be way more perceptive than adults.

(Reblogged from featheronaflume)

transspeakyourmind:

justineskbre:

Realistic 

1)  The day my sister got back from the hospital after a suicide attempt. I didnt let go for about an hour.

2) Kid just found out his brother was shot and killed.

3) A Russian war veteran kneels beside the tank he spent the war in, now a monument.

4) Man sobbing at animal shelter. After being jailed briefly and his dog Buzz Lightyear impounded he couldn’t afford the $400 to get his pet back.

5) A firefighter gives water to a koala during the devastating Black Saturday bushfires that burned across Victoria, Australia, in 2009.

6) Alcoholic father with his son

7) Robert Peraza pauses at his son’s name on the 9/11 Memorial during the tenth anniversary ceremonies at the site of the World Trade Center.

8) Greg Cook hugs his dog Coco after finding her inside his destroyed home in Alabama following the Tornado in March, 2012

9) After two double lung transplants and years of battling cystic fibrosis, my good friend passed away last Saturday. This was one of the last pics taken with his mother.

Oh , my heart. These are insanely powerful, impactful photographs.

if you ever need to cry.

(Reblogged from featheronaflume)
“
You will break up with your high school sweetheart. I know, this is a surprise but trust me. Yes, he loves you, but it’s a smothering love, the way a dog nurses an open wound, all bared teeth and tongues. When you leave him, it will not feel like crushing a light bulb in your hand—more like slowly, so slowly, removing the glass from your palm.
Sierra DeMulder, Reassurance to Sierra in High School

(Source: xotinyoneox)

(Reblogged from fuckyeahsierrademulder)

: Only the Young Die Good

thedustwillsing:

Two more weeks. Only two more weeks, that’s what the doctor told us.

It’s two o’clock in the afternoon. The June sun is biting down on my shoulders as I measure out the final cut. Becky is sitting on the porch biting at her blue nail polish. She’s staring at the telephone wires drinking…

and for this, i apologize. but as someone who has had to witness a coffin the size of a shoebox disappear into the earth, i do not apologize.

(Reblogged from thedustwillsing)

# 29 - the goodbye list

howtoleavetheozarks:

Read your cards exactly once.
Celtic cross. Indian style on the broken floorboards.
Handful of swords. Spread full of distress.
The cards were disaster. calamity. burning, burning, burning.
Told you they were good. Told you you were beautiful.
Hung your pictures in my bedroom.
Moved out. Moved away.
Taught myself to hate you.
Burned your pictures in a fire.
Started the fire with a book of matches from a restaurant
we went to with my father.
Thought smoke made your face look like his.
Blew the matches out. One by one.
Kept the rest in a bottle of vinegar in my bedroom.
Found an old menu in my memory box.
Ordered raw steak. Ate it bloody.
Stopped eating meat.
Cried for a week, two weeks, a month without you.
Dreamed of your mother. She handed me swords.
She said, this is your life in ten years.
Her teeth were sharp. Old and white and clean.
Grew a baby beneath my breast bone.
Fudged anatomy in symbolic nightmares.
Watched the movie Eraserhead.
Gave birth to a monster. Had more nightmares.
Raised your child.
Screamed in my sleep. Scared you in the bedroom next to me.
Slept under my bed. Slept in the woods.
Slept in a bed of pine cones.
Lost the baby in the woods.
A tree fell at my feet.
I was there to hear it make a sound. The sound was,
I am so lonely I do not think I will bother getting up.
I got up.
Found burn marks on my ankles
from the belt I gave you for Christmas.
Found more on my thighs from the beard you tried to grow.
Used the hair to make a nest.
Called you the wrong name. Stopped taking your calls.
Stopped taking your apologies. Stopped making mine.
Wrote you angry letters. Hundreds. Thousands.
Licked each envelope shut. Tongue went dry. Coughed up dust.
Gave up water. Wandered the desert.
Felt lost without you. Drowning.
Read your cards for the second first time.
Pulled the tower. Pulled the fool. Pulled death.
You wouldn’t let me read your cards. You didn’t believe them.
Prayed for you. Missed the thunder. Missed you laughing.
Missed the morning.
Told the tree, I am not sure who I am missing.
There are so many. My heart is full of ghosts.
The tree agreed. Too many. Said, you might be lost.
Ask the deck. Read the cards.
The cards said,
Hanged man. Three of hearts. Empress.
Stop reading the same meanings. Stop worrying so much.
It’s mourning. Wake up. Wake up.

(Reblogged from howtoleavetheozarks)
“
On Periods: Let’s put this shit to bed right now: Women don’t lose their minds when they have period-related irritability. It doesn’t lower their ability to reason; it lowers their patience and, hence, tolerance for bullshit. If an issue comes up a lot during “that time of the month,” that doesn’t mean she only cares about it once a month; it means she’s bothered by it all the time and lacks the capacity, once a month, to shove it down and bury it beneath six gulps of willful silence.
Shakesville: Feminism 101

(Source: andotherdoublemeanings)

(Reblogged from queenofthewest)

…reblogging this was necessary.

(Reblogged from queenofthewest)