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this actually looks really neat
why isn’t this called fROSEn
fucking tell girls they’re cute. tell boys they’re cute. people are cute. look at them living and having eyelashes and little tummies. sometimes people are so fucking cute and when you tell them they’re cute they smile and that’s fucking cute.
me when im drunk
Paintings in details : Pastels, part I.
do you ever just start thinking about sex and zone out for a couple of seconds and stare into space and then you come back and you’re like ah shit i hope no one realised i was thinking about sex just now
I have a few copies of “Playboy” from the 1970s stashed away somewhere. One of them has a letter where a guy writes in saying, “I met this really gorgeous, sweet woman, and we were planning to get married, but she sat me down yesterday and told me that she had a sex change before she met me. Mr. Hefner, should I marry someone who used to be a man?” and the response was, “So she had a sex change, big whoop. Would you be asking this question if she’d made any other change in her life before she met you? You love the woman she is now, and that’s all that should matter. If you want kids you can adopt or something.”
I feel so conflicted right now
reblogging this again to add something- one of the women who posed in one of the first issues of Playboy lost her job due to the controversy surrounding her being in the magazine, and when Hugh Hefner found out that she’d gotten fired, he gave her a job at Playboy no questions asked
despite his penchant for surrounding himself with bevies of women, he really did do a lot to advance the cause of feminism in the early days of the sexual revolution, and I feel like people ignore that because his magazine features pictorials of nude women
also rather than leaving the running of his company to one of his sons, he now has his daughter running Playboy
foggy wintery scene
| Växjö, Sweden |
do cis people who complain about being called cis realize how fucking liberating it is to have a word for them that’s not “normal people”
I dreamed a dream in time gone by, when grades were high and fucks worth giving. I dreamed no test would make me cry, I dreamed that curves would be forgiving. Then I was young and unprepared, and A’s were made and used and wasted. There were no extensions to be begged, no nights unslept, no effort wasted. But the finals come at last, with their laughter soft as thunder, as they tear your grades apart, as they turn your dream to shame.
to whomever wrote this
I love this bc it doesn’t specify what isnt permanent. Like it could be that empty feeling nestled in your chest, that guilt over something you did last night, or that sadness that consumes you. It might even be the feelings you share with a certain person, or just life in general.
It’s also like…when you look at the note you think, “but it’s written in pen, it is permanent”, then you think for a moment and realise no, no it’s not. Perhaps it seems like it is at first glance, but there are a million ways that this note could be destroyed.
"i want to be an actor when i grow up"
"well if that doesn’t work what do you want to be?"
YOU DO NOT QUESTION A CHILD’S ASPIRATIONS TO BECOME ANYTHING YOU ASSHOLE FUCKWADS LIKE IF HE SAID DOCTOR YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN NOTHING BUT ALL GUNG-HO ABOUT IT JUST NO
i hate how people think so lowly of the arts like our workloads are almost always heavier than that of other majors.
suck a dick, society. suck a dick.