RedFoxx @ravingr3dfoxx - Tumblr Blog

“We are never going to be able to completely ignore people who don’t like us for no reason. You hate it when you feel like people have the wrong impression of you and it’s so hard to want to control the need to say, “No, that’s not who I am at all!” But at this point, I try to encourage people not to try and defend themselves. If you know who you are, then you do not need to defend yourself.”

- Taylor Swift on haters in Dolly Magazine (April 2015)

disgustinganimals

doctorflowers-deactivated201509

owlrocket

treblemirinlens

NYOOM

intoxifaded

I love the word “fuckboy”. After so many years of constantly hearing “slut”, “skank”, and “whore” mainly used as insults against women, it’s great to have one specialized for men. It’s great that we’re coming together to call out annoying, perverted, irrelevant men by calling them “fuckboys”. I love it. More, please.

writingsforwinter

Mother says there are locked rooms inside all women, kitchen of love, bedroom of grief, bathroom of apathy. Sometimes, the men, they come with keys, and sometimes the men, they come with hammers.

Warsan Shire (via writingsforwinter)

reallyabitch

wow you have very nice looking hands…… i bet they would look even better wrapped up in mine…..

tremolo-delay-deactivated201712

or around my dick

reallyabitch

or clasped together in prayer askin god to help you see the error of your ways

cathysdoodles

Maple leaf dragon is after your maple syrup.

huffflepunk

Maple leaf dragon can have it all!

emile8

I love this design!

drakesfavoritebbw

anotherinactiveuser-deactivated

me as a parent

inkskinned

they were all so jealous. i had the man everyone wanted. eyes grey and a smile like the sun. it was great. it was fun. i wake with blood between my teeth in the mornings. she says, “it’s so cool he likes you. nobody thought he’d actually ever settle down for love.” i say, “yeah, but he can be a little… rough.” she shrugs and says, “i thought you liked it like that. just tell him it’s too much.” he kisses me too hard. he holds me too hard. i say, “gentle, please,” he chuckles. i am shuddering. i try her way, i say, “please, it’s too much too quickly,” he gets angry. he slams his fists against the wall three inches from my face. storms off. i apologize later. he forces me to my knees. i like things rough, i think, and do not cry about it. i like things rough and i asked for this. shaky hands. calling my mom and crying and not being able to say, “please come get me.” coffee. flinching. i’m swallowing air i’m swallowing hunger. he wants me to work out more. for a guy like that, don’t i gotta? i make a sarcastic comment in public. he tells me, “you’ll pay for that,” and it doesn’t sound like a playful warning. my heart is banging away in my throat. i think to myself: i wanted this. i asked for this. everyone is so so jealous. i tell her, “i can’t come out with you guys. he doesn’t like me spending time with other people. he doesn’t like that i dress up. he doesn’t like other men looking at me like that.” she laughs over the phone. “well, honey, you are a slut.” i say, “i know.” i hang up. he finds me sobbing in the corner of my room. he breaks my phone. he says, “i’m sick of you and your drama and how you emotionally manipulate me. you’re always fucking crying.” i say “i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry.” i don’t say: i’m sad because my grandfather is dying. i wanted this. i like it rough. i like it when he hits me. i already knew i’m not ever enough. i tell her, “he hurts me more than anyone else. he goes crazy whenever i try to leave. i’m honestly scared about what he’ll do next.” she shrugs. “well,” she says, “at least he’s good at sex.” i whisper, “no,” i beg him, “please,” i tell him, “not now i need time i need a moment i need…” and then he fucks me so hard i cannot breathe. he leaves before the morning. i’m still so empty. i need somebody there. i need somebody to hold me. she says “does he do anything kinky?” and i blush and stare deep into my tea. ”he likes to … punish me,” i say. i don’t say: i don’t like it. he does it too much. he does it without asking to play first. he does it and doesn’t try to make me feel better after. he’s not concerned with my life. he’s concerned with his desires. he’s concerned with himself. i don’t say: i deserve this now. i have nothing but the world he’s built for me. i belong nowhere but at his feet, cowering. i don’t say: he has taken everything and there is nothing left of me. i am terrified. i am worthless. i cannot leave. because i wanted this. i wanted it rough, i wanted things dirty. i wanted someone to control me. i wanted this. it’s my fault. i chose the poison that would destroy me. i chose the nightmare over the dream. i deserve it and it’s because there’s something wrong with me. she grins. “you’re so naughty.” if i could go back in time, i’d tell the younger version of myself that i’m sorry. i made a mistake. i just wanted somebody to love me.

Christian Grey and my abusive ex have an awful lot in common and i’m very scared about who people like him are gonna hurt next // r.i.d (via inkskinned)