I just want to be a freckled lanky punk rock femme boyperson with too-big sweaters whose hobbies include making cis gay boys sexually frustrated bc I’m ace and only into dfab people
that’s all I want
wait no please don’t with this “only into dfab people” shit
I liked you so much
why must you say things that are mean to trans women
As part of a day-long workshop called “Mapping Your Sexual Desire: Liberating Your Sexual Body” we were asked to write our name and what we were “interested in” on our nametags. I was the youngest – and perhaps most inexperienced (though not to conflate age and experience here) — of the bunch,…
Delicious and chewy food for thought.
- Donate money to have those arrested in Ferguson released on bail. These people belong on the streets, especially at a time like this.
- Send a note of condolence to the family of Michael Brown. Let’s not forget the tragedy that started this.
- Donate to the Michael…
I don’t usually write in first person using “they/them/their” for the other person in the story, but I’ve been using that more lately for my boy rife, so I figured I’d see if I could get a story to reflect that. (He uses both he and they pronouns generally.) So here’s my first attempt at some they/them/their inclusive dirty queer smut. Includes some Daddy/boy references, but only as titles). Whatcha think? http://bit.ly/1sHS72z
I need you to take a little more for me.
Content warning: This story contains bondage and Daddy/boy language, with some language around force and ownership. Read it at your own risk/pleasure. “Be good, and I might let you come.” My mouth is right next to …
A great write-up by @neuronbomb of my Woodhull Sexual Freedom Summit class, “Beyond Yes Means Yes: the Law, Activism, and Practice of Consent.”
A silent protest in Love Park, downtown Philadelphia orchestrated by performance artists protesting the murder of Michael Brown in Ferguson. The onslaught of passerby’s wanting to take photos with the statue exemplifies the disconnect in American society. Simply frame out the dead body, and it doesn’t exist.
Here are some observations by one of the artists involved in the event:
I don’t know who any of these folks are.
They were tourists I presume.
But I heard most of what everything they said. A few lines in particular stood out. There’s one guy not featured in the photos. His friends were trying to get him to join the picture but he couldn’t take his eyes off the body.
"Something about this doesn’t feel right. I’m going to sit this one out, guys." "Com’on man… he’s already dead."
There were a billion little quips I heard today. Some broke my heart. Some restored my faith in humanity. There was an older white couple who wanted to take a picture under the statue.
The older gentleman: “Why do they have to always have to shove their politics down our throats.” Older woman: “They’re black kids, honey. They don’t have anything better to do.”
One woman even stepped over the body to get her picture. But as luck would have it the wind blew the caution tape and it got tangle around her foot. She had to stop and take the tape off. She still took her photo.
There was a guy who yelled at us… “We need more dead like them. Yay for the white man!”
"One young guy just cried and then gave me a hug and said ‘thank you. It’s nice to know SOMEBODY sees me.’