Install Theme
Homo Heaux

lostsplendor:

Floral Wreaths by gracedchin on Etsy. Roundaboutly located via Buzzfeed.

sweetdeffect:

A two-headed calf skull.

(via ciarachimera)

(Source: white-raven-soul)

minarachelle:

☽ RoseApples ☾ op We Heart It

(Source: celestiialluna)

(via a-trac-tive)

minarachelle:

(1) wicca | Tumblr op We Heart It

wiccanwind:

🌿🌿🌿

" Someone calling a white person ‘wonder bread’ isn’t racist. It’s rude, but it’s not racist. Wonder bread as an offensive term has no weight, no meaning. It’s just something to push your buttons. Using the N-word is racist - it has meaning and weight and brings up a past that should’ve never happened. The comparison between rude and racist is like squares and rectangles - every square is a rectangle, but not every rectangle is a square. Every racist comment you hear is rude, but not every rude comment you hear is racist. "

- from an in-class debate about white supremacy (via seehowtame)

(via little-bean-sprout)

drunkblogging:

sometimes u just gotta lay on the floor with ur dog 

(via fallible--and--flawed)

Okay, I have got to know about the sleepover thing. What happened? I'm really interested, because I've used boards before (when I was young and messing around) and nothing has ever happened.

edgarallanfuck:

Answering publicly because i get a lot of questions about this subject. when i was about thirteen i became absolutely obsessed with the idea of ouija boards. My friend izzy came over and we made one out of cardboard. It was so cool. We began to talk to a little girl named luck. I dont remember everyone we talked to, but it was quite fascinating. I decided to stop by target the next week and I found a glow in the dark parker brothers ouija board. After about a week or so I began talking regularly with a spirit named quintin. We would talk on a daily basis. He would call me beautiful and pretty but if i did something he didnt like he would spell out “WHORE” or “HARLOT”. I asked quintin to leave but he never would. He was the only one that talked to me on the board. Often he would make the planchette go in circles around the board or figure 8s. All he would say was “ZOMBIE” after awhile. Weird things began happening in my house in Colorado. It even spooked my mom. Mostly books and magazines would fall off shelves, or pens would fly across the room. I would wake up with the strangest scratches. I never thought much to it. I ended up moving to Florida because of my dads affair. I brought my ouija board out, hoping for somebody new to talk to. Of course, no, it was Quintin. Weird things have happened in that house as well. Things became so demonically violent i cannot even speak of the terrors. Of course standard shit moving around, but i was psychologically being manipulated. I have slept with the light on for three years because of demonic sleep paralysis. One day, my board physically started screaming. A blood curdling male scream. I wasnt even using it. My mom had had enough and ended up throwing it away. We moved from that house which we were renting at the time. After two years nobody has bought it. People say they feel “nervous” while walking through it. Ive had many issues with demonic oppression since, shoes walking across the room, scratches and cuts, even just general uneasiness. Right now i feel like im being stabbed in the neck. But the only method that really subsides this is reading scripture. Although i have been suffering from spiritual warfare for quite awhile, things are getting better. I dont want anyone else to go through the things I went through, the terror of seeing a demon standing over your bed while you sleep. Do not buy a board or make one, it isnt a fucking game. And if you get stuck in any spiritual warfare, id recommend reading Hebrews. Have a nice day and please don’t do it.

naked-yogi:

praxis89:

They say I have a sweet ass, nice tits, a real pretty dress. They say I’m their future wife, or I’d look good with their dick in my mouth. They try (and probably succeed at times) to take pictures down my shirt. They ask if they can get my number, they ask where I live, why I’m not smiling, why my boyfriend lets me walk around by myself. Then they ask why I’m such a bitch, if my pussy is made of ice. They say that they never do this, as though I’ve somehow driven them to inappropriate behavior and deserve it. They say they’re just having fun, trying to pay me a compliment. Pretty frequently they get mean, slipping into a loud tourettes-like chant of bitch-whore-cunt-slut.

Before you try to tell me that it’s because I take my clothes off for a living, let me tell you that this started way before I was 18. Let me tell you that every single woman I know has at least one truly terrifying story of street harassment and a whole bunch of other stories that are merely insulting or annoying. Let me remind you that in a room of pornography fans, who have actually seen me with a dick in my mouth and who can buy a replica of my vagina in a can or box, I am treated with far more respect than I am walking down the street.

—Stoya

(via blondehairblacklung)

(Source: celestiialluna)