ughdaesung:

                                   butts                           butts

                      buttsbuttsbuttsbutts         buttsbuttsbuttsbutts

                  buttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbutts    buttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbutts

                buttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbutts

                 buttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbutts

                    buttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbutts

                           buttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbutts

                                 buttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbuttsbutts

                                        buttsbuttsbuttsbutts

                                                buttsbutts

                                                   booty

(Source: jiyonqs, via twentynothingprodigy)

trenchcoatinimpala:

things you don’t point out about people:

  • acne
  • cuts
  • Scars
  • body hair in places you’re not used to it being???
  • fat rolls/curves
  • how much/how little they’re eating
  • how skinny they are/what bones they can see because of how skinny they are
  • How fat they are.
  • If they have crooked or misaligned teeth maybe even yellowed
  • If they sweat a lot

don’t do it

don’t

(Source: fishingboatstops, via theplanitmars)

bishopmyles:

alittlemoreillah:

vinebox:

Romantic Thugs

😂😂😂

LOL

(via flawlesslyash)

"

There’s a woman in my building
who hides her heart between her legs
in the hopes that maybe then she might actually
feel something.
See, around here, girls grow up on the sidelines
of their own bodies:
taught their “virtue” belongs to boys
before it ever belongs to themselves.
There are words you just don’t say and
all of them are slang words for vaginas.

There’s a little girl down the street
too young for this kind of heartache.
She sprays perfume on the unseen monster
between her thighs
as a gift for the boy she thinks
she’s fallen in love with—
afraid he’ll leave without reason to stay,
afraid he’ll be too disgusted by the new hair
below her belly
to even touch her.

We grow up grooming the good from our bodies.
Grow up the enemy.
Eve and the apple,
Pandora and the box:
taught women are the root of all evil,
our bodies the fiendish unholy,
temptation incarnate.
Like succubi of the subway,
they call it our fault
that men turn to animals in the road.

Generations of girls huddled beneath the sheets,
guilty hands between their guilty thighs,
convinced that touching themselves
is the worst kind of crime.
Meanwhile the boys on the street
gather in groups and crow at the breasts
of the girls who pass by.

But boys will be boys, right?
Best to let sleeping bitches lie.

"
- IF I SOUND ANGRY, IT’S BECAUSE I’M FURIOUS, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)

(via theplanitmars)