Warpaint from Dazed &Confused magazine (photo. by Nick Haymes)
(Source: oranotherhappyday, via nobunnyluvsyou)
3:25 pm • 2 December 2013 • 2,485 notes
walking around trying to keep my mouth shut,
while the pity piles up.
like a goddamn dog, with it’s tail between his legs
ashamed of trying to butter up your obituary.
at least i can say i tried with you.
(Source: midnightwingedraccoon, via itssymmetry)
3:24 pm • 2 December 2013 • 853 notes
I’m a male feminist :) are you going to next week’s Slut Walk? :) I’ll come with you :) I love Sasha Grey :) she reads Dostoevsky :) ugh sexy fucking nerds :) kink shaming is bad :) don’t police someone’s sexual choices :) slurs are slurs only if you give them the power to be slurs, you know? :) reclaim BDSM as a woman who wants to express her sexuality :) don’t tell anyone I taught you that :) hang on :) reblogging some porn gifs #sex positive #feminism :)
2:36 am • 1 December 2013 • 4,497 notes
Diane Arbus, Clouds on Screen at a Drive-In Movie, N.J.
(Source: shihlun, via nobunnyluvsyou)
9:19 pm • 30 November 2013 • 515 notes
“Again the names - then they lurched together as if the taxi had swung them. Her breasts crushed flat against him, her mouth was all new and warm, owned in common. They stopped thinking with an almost painful relief, stopped seeing; they only breathed and sought each other. They were both in the grey gentle world of a mild hangover of fatigue when the nerves relax in bunches like piano strings, and crackle suddenly like wicker chairs. Nerves so raw and tender they must surely join other nerves, lips to lips, breast to breast… They were still in the happier stage of love. They were full of brave illusions about each other, tremendous illusions, so that the communion of self with self seemed to be on a plane where no other human relations mattered. They both seemed to have arrived there with an extraordinary innocence as though a series of pure accidents had driven them together, so many accidents that at last they were forced to conclude that they were for each other. They had arrived with clean hands, or so it seemed, after no traffic with the merely curious and clandestine.”
— Tender Is The Night, F. Scott Fitzgerald
3:24 am • 30 November 2013 • 7 notes