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joa, 22, fsu.
tags: by my hand, priorities, personal, mug, likes
meow

i can’t be the only badass who runs with knitting needles.


Porn is about male fantasy. The fantasy is that women like everything you do to them, as man.

So how does this translate into real life? Women spend a lot of time and energy trying to please men. We learn early on that we are being looked at – that we are to be looked at. That we are performers. It took years before I actually started enjoying sex. YEARS. I think what I enjoyed most about sex, when I was younger, was the feeling of being desired. The actual sex part was super boring for the first while.

We learn, as girls and women, that the performance is more important than the actual feeling.



bobquart:

I actually like Sansa, but I’d just like to speak up on behalf of those who dislike her and are being labeled misogynists and say that no, she is not disliked because she is a female who acts like a female (“Everybody likes Arya because she tries to be one of the boys!”). She is disliked because, at least in the beginning, she is naive, haughty, and a little bit dense.

I’m sure there are actual misogynists out there who dislike her for the reasons mentioned, but I’m getting a little tired of the relatively widespread distaste for her character being used as a jumping point for feminist proselytizing. There are, in fact, more innocuous reasons to dislike the character. Please stop labeling everyone who’s in that group. There are much more valid feminist arguments to make - this one is just an easy target because it’s a character in a popular television and book series.

edennova:

this is the shirt i want to wear every day

edennova:

this is the shirt i want to wear every day


mererecorder:

Fus Roh Dah by ~vani

skryim confessions: excuse me as i get STABBED, BURNED, OTHERWISE RIDICULOUSLY EASILY INJURED around these sexxxxxxy felt straps.

mererecorder:

Fus Roh Dah by ~vani

skryim confessions: excuse me as i get STABBED, BURNED, OTHERWISE RIDICULOUSLY EASILY INJURED around these sexxxxxxy felt straps.


Ask your female friends, if you have any, if they’ve ever walked home late at night with a key pushed through their knuckles, just in case, if they’ve ever crossed the street to avoid a stranger, just in case, if they’ve ever taken the long way home because of the weird guy on the corner, just in case. Ask them if they’ve ever made up a boyfriend to get a guy to leave them alone, if they’ve ever gotten off a train car and moved to the next because you just never know, if they’ve ever shelled out for a cab because men like you were at the bus stop. Do you really want to be that guy?


I have had several sexual partners in my life, but I won’t tell you how many, because it doesn’t matter. It could be in the thousands, and it wouldn’t make me any less cool to go to lunch with. It wouldn’t make me any less terrible at ironing a shirt. It wouldn’t make me any less likely to love shitty reality television I know is bad for me. Who I am and what I offer to the world has nothing to do with how many sexual partners I’ve had, and I’m not interested in justifying myself to someone who will have already judged me anyway. As much as I’d like to comfort you with some notion that I’ve been impossibly chaste up until the moment I find the “right” man to “complete” me in some way, I must tell you that I haven’t been waiting for anyone. I’ve been living my life exactly as I want to since I’ve become sexually active, and my choices weren’t made to impress an arbitrary committee of judgmental assholes.

Charlotte Green, “I Am A Slut”  (via cantuliketheshampoo)

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