(via notyourtypicalgay)

(Source: kkncc, via imgfave)

anoncentral:

24/5/12, Second day of strike in Asturias. The miners continue to block the streets with barricades to protest the budget cut forced on the sector by the government.

Meanwhile in the USA,

Oh hey look, that’s Chicago :D

(via autumn-and-eve)

(Source: barackobama, via nicklangsmonstercock)

sqs-tec:

White Trans* Men

Okay. So it’s not that I don’t love you guys. Support you. Respect you. Listen to you. Etc.

But guys, I’m tired of seeing whiteness everywhere. When trans* groups/pages/organizations etc. have a feature of all WHITE people, how do you think that makes trans* people of color feel? When you don’t take into account that I was raised DIFFERENT than you, in a culture DIFFERENT than yours, in a language DIFFERENT than yours… you exclude me, you oppress me, you marginalize me, and CONTINUE to feed the patriarchy. 

My brown body is here, it’s queer, and I am demanding that you acknowledge/include/respect it. 

So many of my trans* sisters are diverse, but I don’t see the same reflection in the trans*male community. Brothers, you aren’t all WHITE. 

And remember that your whiteness has as much privilege as your male identity. 


I make these comments fully acknowledging my privilege as someone who comes from a light-skinned, middle-class Chilean family, and identifies/is perceived as male. I am first generation, speak English, and have a college education. 

But I still grew up Latina, I am still Latin@, and I STILL live in a world of whiteness.

-Van B.

(via swingsetmyribcage)

Rest in Peace Grease.

(Source: thewhatever)

special-k-art:

I want shirts that say “boy” on them

(via genderqueer)

My hair dye smells like fruit and I don’t understand.

Also my hand

enjoy.

(via fruitr0llup)

wenchman:

burnthecityoftroy:

… Her long hair, still wet from the shower, had been combed down her back in a wet swath. Hilda was sitting on the floor, her round, wet boobs still wet from the shower’s water. She dried off the water with a towel, which then became wet.
Hilda gasped when she saw a reflection in her bedroom mirror: through the slightly open door, she caught a glimpse of the chiseled abs and square jaw of the mysterious stranger who shared her cabin. She stood and spun around, her breasts swinging heavily with the momentum. She grabbed the door and flung it open, revealing shirtless Torolf (which was seriously his name) quivering with desire in the hallway.
Torolf was ashamed at being caught, but his shame made him even hotter – hotter for sex. He stepped into the room, and his bulging abs accidentally smushed into Hilda’s rich chest.
As Hilda’s buttermilk bosoms squished up against his granite abs, Torolf almost had a dick aneurysm.
“Hilda,” Torolf murmured thickly, his throbbing meat wand pressing against Hilda’s warm thighs. “There is a secret I need to not tell you: You are my forbidden desire.”
Hilda had been waiting to hear these words. Her heart was lifted on golden wings and soared toward a radiant sun of perfect joy. She saw herself and Torolf happy together, bathed in the golden light of love. Her snooch got all warm, too.
“Torolf,” Hilda moaned, her lush teats straining with desire. “I need you.”
Torolf, coarse abs pulsing softly in the moonlight, stood silently.
Hilda looked at him expectantly.
“Oh, sorry,” she added. “Torolf, I need you – sexually.”
At hearing those beautiful words, Torolf flexed his rough-hewn abs and Hilda found herself being guided to her soft bed by the sheer force of Torolf’s undulating midsection. She parted her thighs in anticipation, exposing the soft pink petals of her clunge.
Torolf entered her like she was a lottery. His engorged pecker pushed inside her and she felt fulfilled with sexual fulfillment.
Hilda clutched at the bedsheets with lust and ecstasy and her hands. Her spongy love mountains hurled to and fro with each pounding. Her body was like a beautiful flower that was opening and somebody was pushing their dick inside it.
Then Torolf moaned, arched his back, and suffered from dick Parkinson’s. He pumped in all of his hot pearlescent sperms as Hilda spasmed with so many orgasms!
The two lay still for a moment as the stinky scent of lovemaking billowed around the room.
Hilda got out of bed, still shimmering with orgasm. She glowed with contentment, like a cat who ate the cream of the crop.
She walked across the room and picked up her towel, still wet with shower water. “Torolf,” she said softly, “there’s something I have to tell you…”
But her bed was empty.
Torolf was gone, escaped out the bedroom window. In the distance, Hilda heard the fading sound of galloping abs.

ajwiajwo that’s awful hhahahaha

OH MY GOD I’M DYING, THIS IS WORSE THAN THE STUFF IN MY HIGH SCHOOL WRITING CLASS. OH MY GOD. LOLOLOLOL WHAT DID I JUST READ!?