Firebird's Fancy

Fluid, Queer, Artsy and Frustrated with the world. Constantly striving to make things better. Always happy to chat <3

[carlboygenius]

[the-addams-family-60s]

[firebirdsfancy]

Yes

[dirtbaghayes]

I don’t want sex, I want the things that lead up to it. The slow kissing then the passionate kissing, then the pulling closer, the neck kisses, the grabbing, biting, heavy breathing, grinding, the pauses while you catch your breath, feeling each other. Oh my. Then sex.

Unknown  (via c-isnenegro)

[firebirdsfancy]

Can you tell I am happy to be back on antidepressants?

[ccaatthh]

This is something we don’t speak about enough; the role of economic stress in domestic violence, or the role that cash, pure cash, plays in keeping women vulnerable. It’s a knotty subject; some abusers undermine their partner’s financial security, take exclusive possession of the bank accounts or spend all the money or demand that their partners work less often or stop working altogether, and so the women cannot leave because they have become unemployable or simply don’t have access to the cash they’d need to escape. And sometimes, women don’t leave because there is not and never has been enough money. Nobody should have to choose between the violence of extreme poverty and the violence of an abusive relationship. But it remains a choice between violence and violence. Class is not separable from the discussion. Because gender and class have never been separable at all.

The Percentages: A Biography of Class (via verycute-veryalone)

[firebirdsfancy]

So many beautiful trans people on my dash today. Bless all of you for your strength and courage!

[p1ague]

[minigator-blog]

when people are like “omg i love your curly hair, how do you get it to look like that?”

step one: wash hair

step two: hope for the best

[guerrillamamamedicine]

If you’re poor, the only way you’re likely to injure someone is the old traditional way: artisanal violence, we could call it – by hands, by knife, by club, or maybe modern hands-on violence, by gun or by car. But if you’re tremendously wealthy, you can practice industrial-scale violence without any manual labor on your own part. You can, say, build a sweatshop factory that will collapse in Bangladesh and kill more people than any hands-on mass murderer ever did, or you can calculate risk and benefit about putting poisons or unsafe machines into the world, as manufacturers do every day. If you’re the leader of a country, you can declare war and kill by the hundreds of thousands or millions. And the nuclear superpowers – the US and Russia – still hold the option of destroying quite a lot of life on Earth. So do the carbon barons. But when we talk about violence, we almost always talk about violence from below, not above.

Let’s Call Climate Change What It Really Is—Violence | Alternet (via guerrillamamamedicine)

 But when we talk about violence, we almost always talk about violence from below, not above.

 But when we talk about violence, we almost always talk about violence from below, not above.

 But when we talk about violence, we almost always talk about violence from below, not above.

(via tonidorsay)

It is not climate change, it is climate violence.

(via ghostofcommunism)

[eiufiundkjn]

the erasure of adult women is terrifying be hairless, be smooth, no wrinkles, no cellulite, no stretch marks, no smile lines, no crow’s feet, no gray hairs we are teaching our female children that they will cease to exist if they don’t keep up the ever present demand to look youthful

[ewokk]

kissing is great

but wow when you get to kiss someone you have feelings for and you’ve wanted to kiss them for the longest time and you get to stroke their face and you’re so aware of their body and how nice their lips feel

[thetalkingpoltergeist]

who allowed you to invoke such dramatic feelings upon thousands of us

you’re merciless

[maxmundan]

Smile …..maybe I don’t want to don’t be so blue …..maybe my face …..feels better this way just smile The day that my brother committed suicide the nurse at the hospital, who knew nothing about me, took one look at me and said, “Smile. It can’t be that bad.” I spun around and snapped, “Fuck you,” at her. She looked stunned and then under her breath, afraid, she responded, “How dare you?” It took every bit of my strength not to grab her by the throat as I screamed, “This morning, my brother put a plastic bag over his head, hooked it up to a helium tank and ended his own life with the meticulous care and planning of someone plotting a bank heist, so I don’t fucking feel like smiling. Sorry if that brings you down.” She had nothing to say in response and just walked away. Smile turn your frown upside down …..maybe it hurts …..to constrict …..the corners …..of my mouth don’t be a party pooper smile I’d been awake for three days on crystal meth when a customer walked up the counter and said, “Smile. It doesn’t cost anything to smile.” I looked at him with bloodshot eyes that felt like they were going to explode from my head. I felt fairly certain they were shaking from insanity. I was having some extreme difficulty keeping myself upright. I was worried that, if I moved my facial muscles at all, it might cause me to lose control and vomit all over this fucking asshole. Oh well, he had it coming. I drew the corners of my mouth back in imitation of some distant memory of what smiling had been like. At the same time, I tried to widen my eyes in what I hoped would give the impression of warmth and contentment. It must have had the opposite effect, however, as his expression turned from condescension to fear, he backed up three steps and then just turned around and ran. Smile you’re bumming me out …..maybe you should …..smile …..if you like it so much you’ll make me feel better if you smile I could see that she was getting ready to leave. For good, this time. Her siutcases were packed and she was heading out the door. I f I hadn’t left work early, she would have already been gone. “Smile, honey,” I said, “Please?” She put down her bags for a moment as she let out a long sigh of resignation. “Fine,” she spit, through gritted teeth. And then…she smiled. A smile so filled with hatred and triumph and pity that I felt all the air sucked from my lungs and the tears begin to pour, against my will, from my eyes. She laughed from her gut. A laugh that felt to me like suffocating in a bag filled with nails. She said, “There. I hope that makes you feel better.” Then she picked up her shit and walked out the door.

Max Mundan, :)Smile(:

© David Rutter 2014

(via maxmundan)

[firebirdsfancy]

I have reaply been struggling with my depression the last month and a half. Today at work I recorded umpteen minutes of audio that was me ranting amd raving about how much depression fucks with life and crammed so many words on a tiny piece of paper I was surprised. It didn't feel cathartic at the time, but I feel pretty okay now. Maybe after a sleep I will transcribe it all.

[onlinecounsellingcollege]

Compassion hurts. When you feel connected to everything you also feel responsible for everything.

Andrew Boyd (via blueklectic)

[firebirdsfancy]

Today's entry in my art journal. Felt liie sharing my left handed lit instead of typing it out. Talked with an acquaintance who got an MFA today about art school and what he got out of the degree. What I want most is just time and space to create, and I need to realize college wouldn't necessarily give that to me.

[firebirdsfancy]

Portrait of tired woman.