|A look into one of the struggles faced by sex workers: How you do handle being raped when even those you love blame you?|
I collect points for two reasons.
1. The first and foremost: To give to others. I love giving things and I love to support the deviants I like! Be it points, llamas (as I'm sure many of you noticed), cake badges, ect. To give points, I have to have points.
2. To maintain a membership. I've got one for awhile and this is the least of the two priorities but I'd like to be able to renew my membership when the time comes.
Regardless of the amount, every donation gets a llama if I haven't already given you one (and I randomly give llamas to EVERYONE so I probably have already)
This content is intended for mature audiences.
or, enter your birth date.*
IV. You wanna know what Mona Lisa's smiling about?Mona’s sitting there on the bus, right
+ it’s like
what are you smiling at,
like, why’s your Monday morning lookin so much better than mine, girl?
+ she’s all like:
I’ve been walking through this river for a month
and all I can see is the milky way
above me, through the trees’
leaves and their trunks, even
the river has slow warm
galaxies and black
holes and pulsars swirling
around my calves like
When I dip my fingers in
I get dawn all over them
like the light already spidering
and my calves are glowing,
and my femurs
have started now too.
I can feel it
in my carpals,
My body’s not the point
or the sun
or anything like that.
But isn’t it prett
Hotel RulesThe lobby and front entrance are strictly out of bounds.
In the car park, if you ask yourself any of these questions how you're going to get out of a spot, whether you're allowed to park there, if the monster truck beside you will crush your car when it leaves, if you'll crush the motor scooter in the next stall, whether your car will roll onto a different level, if you'll be able to find your car again, etc. you're behaving normally and you will almost certainly find your car in the same state and location that you left it in.
Use the service staircase and corridor to avoid surprises. The more lush and carpeted a staircase is, the more dangerous it is.
If you see anyone, do not go with them. Continue straight up to your room. It doesn't matter whether they're a pretty cleaning lady or a bizarre-looking alien. Do not step onto the official floor (carpeted, a regulation 16.7cm above the concrete service landing). Do not follow them. If you hear music, do your best.
In Soviet Russia... I always thought that the stories were nothing but jokes. Cheap laughs for sweaty, unoriginal interneteers. And so I had never thought that when I did visit Soviet Russia and went to my rented car, it would indeed drive me.
The black Sudan smiled at me and spoke in a murmur by lifting its hood; "finally. I've been waiting for days." Then it snatched the keys I were holding, stuck it in my mouth and jumped on my back.
It was strange at first, but I quickly got used to it. The car wasn't as heavy as people said it was and it was actually quite nice. It told me to turn by gently pulling at my ears and always sang along to the radio (which, by the way, only played Boney M.'s "Rasputin" on constant repeat). Along the way I saw mostly strange sights, feeling like quite the tourist. A short bulldog was taking its owner for a walk, and a new Kickstarted company was advertising its slogan; "Machine Programs You!"
to be Alive"Here, have a life."
She thrust it into my face so that I couldn't look at anything but it. I stared, not knowing what to think.
How could she offer it so casually as if it weighed nothing, meant nothing? Were they selling these in corners everywhere for people who wanted "a life"? Had the value of one lessened just over night?
It pulsed in a way that spiked horror and yet... fascination, as well. Merely looking at it was enough for a bit of our own essence to trickle away, allowing more room for what was presented in front of us. It was as if it knew how important it was and comforting us that it was fine, acceptable, to do this.
Where did it even come from? How could they have acquired so many for her to just slap it into our faces until we wrenched it away and sucked it greedily, animals in pure form. Forget the never-ending possibilities and reliving those sad and happy times, just consume it for the hit, the thrill, the rush...
The Fourth Wishi.
She's an ocean-eyed dreamer who could fit the skies of a thousand worlds into her mayfly heart. She's got an angel face and a nasty little smile, and she knows all the secrets in her world. All she wants is to carry on dreaming, so she wishes for dragonfly wings and bottled summer nights and sleep that doesn't have to end. That insidious smile lingers, and she won't surrender her dreams even when her life support stumbles and dies.
He's a romantic with an acoustic soul and steel string scars on his fingertips. He's saving his lovesongs for a perfect girl with summer rolling off her skin and winter in her eyes, and he's never stopped believing that she's out there somewhere. He wishes for her to be everything he's waited for, for her to find him, and for her to be happy. It's a pity he forgets to ask for her to love him back.
She's a revolutionary with a landmine heart and a switchblade tongue. There's dirt and sand under her fingernails and wind in her hair, and she
Sound Carries Near a Salt Flatthe noise of a dying man
is that of a humpack whale
reverberating across the desert thermocline,
tunneling between the dune
and the horizon.
low, not loud, but it surrounds us;
ocean pressure straining
at the sides of a submerging ship.
the harpoon head of
the frag bomb burns in his leg -
flesh irreparably breached -
as that groaning
calls navigation signs
to some unknown counterpart far
across the sand.
I can swear to you
he will be gone in forty-eight hours from the sepsis
if medical can't make it to this fucking
shelled-out excuse for a town
by tomorrow evening. I give
still, his cries carry
like those songs deep in the dark water that we hear
but will never understand;
some forgotten, desperate code
that isn't ours to know,
until we're dead.
Southern GothicCome on mother -
put down that pitchfork
and leave the buttermilk till morning.
The cows have been fed
and the roosters are roosting
like black boots in a cupboard.
Cherry pie is on the table
and I got my gun,
clean as kittens,
from the closet shelf.
I got the baby's bones
in a bag
and you got your knitting;
so we can sit in these rockers
and pray the radio
will wash away all our sins.
Maybe the kids will come by
and this roof will keep sinking,
closing over our heads
just like a single bullet.
Hello, all! I am 25 years old and I live in Conway, Arkansas! I've been doing art since I was a young child though I never really picked ONE type of art to do. I draw, I write, I do photography, lots of little things.
I'm also queer af.
Amara is my stage name and it is from the Codex Alera series by Jim Butcher. My name used to be Luna from Harry Potter.
On another note, be respectful to me. I understand that I'm naked on here. It is called modelling for a picture and it DOESN'T give you the right to be an asshole. I mean, think about this for a minute. I just told you I'm a stripper...I spent an entire shift at work being told the rudest of things, yelling at people for trying to touch and grab me after I've said "You can't touch me!", having people objectify me...and you want to come on here and make me KEEP dealing with that after I've come home? No. Rude, perverted, overly sexual comments will not be allowed. They will be deleted and you will be blocked. I will be respected.
This is an art site. If you want to talk like that, go to pornhub.
I do write quite a bit even if most of my writing isn't on here and I'm totally up for collabs in writing. I write romance, soft sci fi, and fantasy (mostly of the high and urban varieties) mostly but I'll take a look at any concept that is NOT a mystery. I'm awful at mysteries. I rarely read them and I certainly don't write them. Also humorous stuff, I'll do the story but you'll have to provide the humor.
If your concept involves vampire though, then I'll give it a shot. I love vampires stuff. Not Twilight though.
I AM up for collaborating on fanfics, including yaoi, yuri, and R rated ones but I'm highly unlikely to write for a ship that isn't from something I'm very familiar with. Give me your idea and we can totally talk though