“Maybe we believe in love because we need something inside of us to prove that we are not the monsters we can hear breathing under our pillows, maybe we believe in love because it’s easier than cracking open our skin and really looking inside of ourselves, maybe love is our way of deluding ourselves that there is something to live for. I do not know. I have never known. Maybe this is why when I love, it is not a delicate rose but instead a high-powered assault rifle aimed straight at your chest.” — r.i.d /// Excerpts from My Dreams (via inkskinned)

“…And maybe this is selfish, but I guess I wish being me meant more than burnt lips filled with scars from the lies I’ve broken between them, more than a body stretched tight from pretending, more than a humble heart which is heavy with honesty because it’s not just modesty keeping me from accepting your compliments, it’s reality. I’ll never be as good as you want me to be.” — r.i.d /// Excerpts from My Dreams (via inkskinned)

An open letter to the ‘nice guy’ who tried to hit me because I stopped him from taking home a drunk girl who was begging him to leave her alone (or: why you should never ask a poet if she’s really an ugly cocksucker or if that’s just her day job):

The thing is, everyone assumes that by taking away our rights, you make us weak.

In reality, just the opposite occurs. We are used to the sling of insults - there is nothing you can say that hasn’t already been said to me. We are used constantly being on the outlook for our aggressor - so yes, I can spot an asshole from across the room and it’s because I often have to.

The thing is: you are making our skins thicker and our spines stronger than anyone who doesn’t have to put up with the shit that we do. We are the same generation that can wear pretty dresses and cut up your corpse in the same moment: because trust me, we know how to get blood out of our clothing.

You think women are little helpless flowers but I know at least a quarter of my lady friends with self-defense classes under their belts, at least half who can fight their way out of a chokehold with nothing but their carkeys like daggers in their fists, at least three-fourths who are so used to any kind of slur you can throw at them that they have four witty comebacks just resting on their backburners, and all of them - all of them - are baptized in the fire of another person’s violation, whether verbal or otherwise. You are not making the submissive housewives or the shy secretaries of your wet dreams. You have made dragons.

You have made mothers with sharp teeth who can balance eight different tasks and still remember your favorite dinner. You have made CEOs who do better work because they’re used to being told they’re sub-par. You are making artists and poets and musicians who’ve seen the dark in the world. You are making social justice warriors - I use this not as a defamation but as a banner, as the way they brand themselves because it is a battle, isn’t it, and nobody’s come out without their share of scars - you are making a generation of caustically beautiful ladies who have seen more shit by six a.m. than you have all your life and they still walk better in heels than you do in your boat shoes.

We do not invite your ‘nice guy’ into our beds, you’re right, because the nice guys of our lives have been our fathers asking us if we ‘are really going out in that,’ have been our best friend telling us that his girlfriend should give up sex because he’s paid for dinner, have been our uncles and brothers and the great gentlemen who hang out of their cars and laugh when the thirteen-year-old they just honked at jumps and looks terrified (but should totally accept the compliment as if it was a gift instead of the moment she recognizes she’s never going to be safe) -

you wanna know why we don’t let nice men into our beds? Because we rarely find them.

They’re out there, I know it, but they’re not the ones wetting themselves when a woman asks ‘why do you think that?’ instead of sitting back and letting him laugh with his buddies about femi-nazis. They’re out there and they’re probably as pissed as we are that at least one third of their population has openly admitted there are times when they think it’s okay to force their significant other to have sex: they’re out there, and the sad thing is, if you’re a male, you’re statistically not one of them. As far as we know, you don’t exist. You are a white knight only you believe in.

Here’s the thing about forcing people down: eventually they’re going to get strong enough to push right on back, and when you’ve spent the whole time sitting on your ass sinking your teeth into your healthy wage gap, you’re not going to be ready for it.

You’ve hurt us, over and over. When the time comes for us to hurt back, do you know how many of us are going to ask ‘Where was the mercy when I was begging like he is now? Where was that mercy when I got pregnant? Where was that mercy when I was called selfish for being a single parent? Where was that mercy when he forced himself on me? Where was that mercy, in anything?’

The thing about oppression is that it can only last for so long. You are not making yourself dominant, you’re making yourself weak. I’ve seen men crumble because they feel uncomfortable when they get hit on by other men as if the stench of their own mistakes is strangling them. I’ve seen them get impassioned because a teacher preferred females and I’ve laughed because I had eight other classes where it was reversed and in all of those eight, it went uncontested. I have legitimately punched a boy who said that a show for girls was shameful because it tries to teach lessons instead of catering to his desire for sex - as if just by liking something, he owns it. I’ve seen boys growl about women’s history month and had to wonder if they’ve ever held a textbook where the only names of girls are tiny footnotes. I’ve seen fathers ask why the curriculum I use for my six-year-olds is carefully gender neutral, why I let his son play at cooking or his daughter be a doctor.

I have never heard a mother complain except to beg me to get her little girl to talk more, to do more, to succeed - do you see? Do you see?

Here’s the thing about stepping on us: we have learned to stop licking your boots
and now we want to ruin you.

” — trust me, I know actual nice guys and they are nothing like your type. p.s your fly was down the whole time. /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)

Don’t you see? Despite the number of times we’ve gotten our hearts broken, despite our mother’s warnings and the blood on our skinned knees, despite everything: so many of us still believe in love. So many of us have this unbeatable hope pounding in our chest that somewhere amongst the ribcages of seven billion other people, there is at least one soul which could tune to ours and make us feel like we were music instead of misery.

Don’t you see? We have been hurt more times than we’ve been healed and so many of us keep standing up and waiting for that one person to come into our lives: the best friend you can eat four pounds of gummy bears with, the lover who has memorized the texture of your fingertips, the teacher who convinces you that you’re actually talented.

Don’t you see? We could have been so selfish as a people. We could have evolved without compassion. We could have made our society shaped out of breeding partners instead of the tenderness of soul mates. Instead we all decided to share our hearts, to share our stories, to share our passions and hobbies and ideas. We knew it could lead to failure and we did it anyway because the act of giving made us more alive than anything. Love is thrilling because it’s risky.

Don’t you see? We made art. We could have been a people of strict science and numbers. But we couldn’t live without poetry, without music, without libraries where we could fall in love with a fictional character, without naming the planets as if they were gods, without seeing the beauty in atomic function, without dancing outdoors and shouting at the stars, without singing in our showers, without hugging our fathers, without loving fast and loving far and loving hard most of all.

” — The truth is, the response to acts of violence is rarely one of fear but instead one of an absolute outpouring of love and kindness: we take the moment to say “There is still good here on this Earth, and it is in all of us.” /// R.I.D (via inkskinned)


Boy → Man

Jensen Ackles 2006-2014 Critics’ Choice Awards





New season, new luck!

Petition for Mark Sheppard to appear in season 4 of Sherlock, so he could be the one actor to play them all,

one actor to bind them,

one actor to bring them all together

and in Superwholock to bind them.

or gatiss to appear in supernatural… ?