tokoyami no sumeragi.

22. vegan. white femme. Buffalo. pansexual. pissed.
writer. artist.
writing blog: ladypoemtron.tumblr.com
instagram: blendedcucumber
etsy shop: www.etsy.com/shop/waywardwolf

bienenkiste:

Nadja Giramata by Rory Payne for The Sunday Telegraph March 2013

bienenkiste:

Nadja Giramata by Rory Payne for The Sunday Telegraph March 2013

(via veganweedsoup)

amiranizer:

napalm death in ‘87

amiranizer:

napalm death in ‘87

(via knowledgeculturepower)

wolfprincess616:

kwen-b:

stop.

Gimme dis lil one

wolfprincess616:

kwen-b:

stop.

Gimme dis lil one

(Source: bungalowclassic, via surroundedbyhyenas)

“Girls learn to love and have sexual feelings in a position of low status, and the eroticization of powerlessness is a normal part of the construction of femininity.”

—   Sheila Jeffreys, Unpacking Queer Politics (via hereticswords)

(Source: yoursocialconstructsareshowing, via sanityscraps)

hey-nnister:

helioscentrifuge:

SHOTS FIRED

Damn that turned innocent to calling out sexism real fast

(Source: ourdrunkitchen, via onyxmoonstone)

(Source: lees-pace, via forsciencejohn)

Let’s be honest here -
I am not the girl men fall in love with.
I am the girl that men want to fuck.
I am a conquest. A prize. A show.

I could count on five hundred fingers
the number of people that have professed,
“I like you. You’re different. You’re an interesting girl.”
Apparently I’m not fascinating enough for you
to want to hold for more than a one night stand.

Once
as I finished swimming a sea of blankets
and got left stranded on the shore,
I asked myself:

What’s wrong with me?
What am I doing?
Am I not good enough for anybody?

And right before I could drown again,
the sun woke up and said,

"You are.
You are enough.
Forget the men whose hands have groped your hips
in search for answers to questions
you’ve never even heard of.
Do not settle for people who do not appreciate you,
who do not know how lucky they are.
Remember it is a privilege to be loved by you,
or even just
to be touched by you, and
the warmth of another body does not define your worth.

These men -
they think that they can own you
with their drunken stares and roughened arms, but
I have circled the earth
a thousand times
to feed the light flowing inside your skin.
Do not waste it by illuminating those who
can not even be bothered
to learn your last name.”

So that night when
the moon tried once more to pin me down,
I told him:

I am made of sunlight, crashing waves, and fireworks.
You think you can tame me
and cool my flesh?
I am the girl who plays with matches,
and trust me I play it well.
Lord knows I’ve walked through villages leaving
a pile of destruction in my wake.

My heart is a bushfire
and the next time you try to control me,
darling, make no mistake -

I will burst out and ravage you in flames.

I’ll
burn
you
to
the
ground.

(This isn’t a test.)

—   Sade Andria Zabala (surfandwrite) | For All The Girls With Messy Hearts, And To The Men Whose Skin Have Tasted Mine (via surfandwrite)

(via imnotevilimjustwrittenthatway)

Look around your college classroom, spot the virgins.

See, this seems like a game until you skip over the girl with a short skirt and hair in front of her eyes because you heard last summer that she slept with like nineteen guys. You can’t see her hands, but they’re under the table, pulling a rosary through her fingers as she tries to wash the sin off her. She’s only ever kissed three people in her whole life and they’re all girls. She turned down the wrong guy and he told everyone she’s “a whore.” The label “slut” stuck to the bottom of her shoe and swallowed her up.

But that quiet girl who is always reading probably never touched someone else’s penis, you figure, because you don’t know that she goes home and strips down and pulls on tight black leather, you don’t know she’s got a set of whips that could make any set of knees quiver, you don’t know because she’s proud of what she does but she’s not stupid enough to let anyone know about it. She’s sexy, just not here, not where people judge.

See, the truth is: you have no idea who has lost their virginity, because it doesn’t change you. It doesn’t give you some kind of glow or superpower or stamp on your forehead. You know the feeling of waking up on your birthday and thinking “I don’t feel any older whatsoever”? That’s what maybe they’re all so afraid of you finding out: sex doesn’t change you. Sex doesn’t make you an animal, sex doesn’t suddenly make your relationship a million times more stable or intimate or romantic - it can’t fix what’s broken, although it can make the pain go away for a bit. Sex doesn’t really occur with eighty tea lights and a thick white rug. Sex is ugly and loud and frequently awkward, sex is excellent and breathtaking and when you wake up the next morning, you’re the exact same person. There’s not some magical connection with the person in bed beside you. Believe it or not, pregnancy isn’t some kind of punishment - but practice safe sex, get tested, don’t spread your germs around. They want to tell you, “Sex can ruin you” and I’ve heard that a lot as a little girl, that some boy would join me under my sheets and then dump me four days after, used, unhappy.

But I figured out that I’m not a fucking toy. Letting someone have sex with me is not letting them “use” me, because I’m not an object. My father said the issue lay in the fact “Men are insecure and need to know that they’re the best you ever had,” but I think that’s a steaming crock of absolute-wrong and if I didn’t tell the people I’m with how many others I’d slept beside, there would be literally no way for them to know my number, because I don’t rust, I don’t wear out, I don’t get bruised. I’m not a wilting fruit, I don’t go rotten.

But here’s the thing: some people connect sex and emotion. I don’t personally because I am probably secretly an ice storm in disguise, but I still respect my partner’s desires. If they’re the type to want love and sex to coincide, I let them. I don’t make fun, I don’t pull one-night-stands or friends-with-benefits, because it’s not their “reputation” I’m afraid for: it’s their heart I’m defending.

Here’s the thing: Instead of worrying about people’s “purity” and how it defines them as a person, worry instead about how you can protect other people’s emotions.

Because here’s the thing: look around your room and spot the virgins. Look harder. You can’t tell. Sex doesn’t alter people, it doesn’t make them act in a certain way nor dress in a certain manner. Sex and personality have nothing to do with each other. There’s a reason that virginity doesn’t show on someone’s face: because having sex doesn’t cause you to change.

—   "I lost my virginity to a boy I didn’t even love…" /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)

(via sanityscraps)

'Sex' doesn't sell. Erosion of female self esteem does. The feeling of superiority over women does. Turning women into 'things' to be studied, scrutinized & judged and then calling it 'sex' does.

Sex doesn’t sell. Objectification does

—   

Sadiqa Thornton (via evrythingwillbalright)

Forever y ever reblog

(via intralevida)

(Source: female-only, via imnotevilimjustwrittenthatway)

arvidabystrom:

me by me with some maja assistance  got this little top from miss crofton little shout out

arvidabystrom:

me by me with some maja assistance
got this little top from miss crofton little shout out

(via milkattack)

michiscribbles:

Some foxes doing the fox trot

buy them here: www.etsy.com/shop/michiscribbles

Kimya Dawson - I Like Giants

fyeahcuteindie:

Kimya Dawson - I Like Giants | Remember That I Love You

Fiona Apple - Lyrics

(Source: jessicaisgray, via mobuffylo)