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Words Used to Describe Genitals

wtffanfiction:

So at one point someone suggested we start a list of words used in fanfiction to describe genitals. After a particularly great Twilight fic was submitted, I decided to start that list, and Im providing what the phrase is describing. It will be updated as more words and phrases are found.

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I never change fandoms. I just add new ones.

wyatt-fucking-earp:

(Source: dewymorning, via misket)

cryingvagina:

i am byesexual

everyone i love leaves me

(via planetxooberon)

RANDOM CONFESSION TIME

You know, I think I’m really scared of being beautiful. People tell me I am sometimes. More than sometimes, recently. And sometimes it’s like a person’s eyes will snag as I walk by. It’s nice.

But it’s also really scary. There are lines in the sand that separate ‘beautiful’ from ‘smart’ from ‘desirable’. (I think someone drew them for me when I was a kid, like my Aunt maybe? She was weird) If I had to choose, I’d want to be smart. I’ve always wanted smarts more than anything else. And the prettier people find me, the farther I feel from that goal. I just want to be brilliant, yeah?

And besides that, I don’t really think I’m pretty. There’s something truly, inherently ugly about my body, my mind. Maybe I’m just ugly on the inside? I don’t know. I’ll look at myself in the mirror and my first thought is always “WRONG.” There’s something missing. 

When I was in grade school, I was bullied by my peers. I kept my hair super-short, in a pixie cut, despite my gender. They’d make bald jokes and told me I was ugly. I didn’t mind so much at the time, it mostly rolled off me, cause if it’s true it’s true! I got used to it. I believed it. And I was young, so I didn’t need to be pretty yet. Being clever was plenty good enough for everyone.

Now I don’t know what to believe. I’m pretty chill with my body, I guess, and my face is fine enough? I don’t know. 

I don’t know. 

Mostly I just wish I was smarter than I am. School isn’t enough to get my brain working yet. I’m not entirely sure my brain’s ever had to work. I’d like to get a some tutors, and then we could work at my pace, but I can’t afford it. So I’m bored. Just like all the other schmucks in my classes. Ugh. 

Hmph. Me and my silly fist-world problems. Wow, that wasn’t very well formulated. Trying…. to, care! Alas. ‘Tis not to be. 

So I woke up this morning in a pool of my own blood.

ahhmmmburr:

warningdontreadthis:

itscandidlycara:

Wait, let me back up.

Hi, my name is Cara and I’m a 21 year old woman. Every 28 days, give or take, I have a period. And it fucking sucks. Today, was one of those where I take from the 28 day cycle. I wasn’t due for another period for at least a week, but considering that my period is pretty much permanently irregular, I get to wake up a lot of mornings in a pool of my own blood. Hmm. Lovely.

I then proceed to dump my sheets, my underwear, and my pajamas in my laundry room in a tub filled with cold water, with the hopes that this time I haven’t ruined them permanently.

What next? Well, a shower of course! To wipe off the smell of rotting blood from my body! Squeaky clean and towel fresh I have about a two minute window before the volcano of blood begins to erupt again from my vagina.

What will it be today? A piece of chlorinated toilet paper cardboard with a string that I get to shove up my hole wherein the blood will sit and rot until the next time I can shove another piece of chlorinated cardboard up the same hole? Or, a plastic lined toilet paper diaper attached to my underwear that causes rug burn to my vaginal area when I walk? Well the later requires less coordination, and it is early, so I guess I’ll be sitting in a period diaper today. The best ever.

Of course, I could always just get birth control, and lessen this whole shit. But 1) I can’t afford it 2) I can’t ask my dad to pay for it because, guess what? Just like the men who run my government, my father correlates birth control with sexual promiscuity! Thus, sitting on my rotting blood, undergoing severe cramps that have on more than one occasion caused me to black out, it is! (Not that birth control is such a walk in the park either, our bodies have to learn to deal with the hormones and other chemicals and consequences that birth control entails.)

Then, I get to go to class, where I have to pretend that I am not a leaky faucet of blood and tissue. I get to sit in Calculus, and if heaven forbid, I need an additional pad, I have to be discrete about it, so as not to offend the men’s gentle sensibilities to the fact that I am the one dropping tissues and blood from my body through my vagina.  

I once asked a male to take me to the pharmacy so that I could pick up (GASP) pads, or as we like to call it “feminine products” (again, so as not to offend the gentlemen’s overly sensitive natures) and had him equate me talking about my period to him talking about his erections.

ARE

YOU

FUCKING

KIDDING

ME

No.

This is nothing like your fucking erection’s. I don’t derive any enjoyment from this. I can’t mentally control any ounce of this entire process. I can’t masturbate my problem away. My period does not end in orgasm.

It stays. For at least five days in my case. Draining blood out of my body. Causing me severe cramps, making me irritable -not because I’m uncomfortable (which mind you, would be reason enough) - but because my hormones are all over the place, bloating me up to two sizes larger than I normally am, I have to actively fight not to smell like a fish market, and on top of that, you want me to be hush-hush about this? Because it’s icky for you?

And this is not an attack on that one man, this is an attack on ALL MEN who on top of sitting on their throne of gender privilege want me to stay quiet and be content about the fact that five days out of every month I get to undergo this happiest of joys.

And then, these very same men have the audacity to get annoyed because we don’t want to listen to their bullshit complaining about traffic? Or whatever other meaningless story they happen to tell us while our bodies are actively fighting against us? Then we get to be the butt of their tired-ass jokes? Sorry, I am most certainly not sorry.

I repeat NO. I say women come out of the period closet and say, “You know what, this happens to me. Every. Fucking. Month. And it’s terrible. LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MY MORNING.” Because the truth is, if I live in a country where Viagra is covered by medical insurance, but birth control isn’t, I can no longer keep denying that I live in a country that is actively waging a war on women. And if I live in a country that is actively waging war on my sex, the least I am going to do is break patriarchal social propriety to inform anyone and everyone of the shit biological process I was BLESSED enough to be born into.

Hello, my name is Cara, I’m a 21 year old woman, and today I’m on my period. Let me fucking tell you about it.

(via kingchips)

Just a thought

rainsw6:

elviella:

adventuresofcomicbookgirl:

theresaplastictree:

if Fred & George had the map for years, how did they not notice that there was a man named Peter sleeping in Ron’s bed every night.

or did they just not want to ask or

omg

OMG

this is hilarious to me.

“there’s a guy named Peter on top of Ron Fred”

“Whoa he’s way too young for that”

“well I can’t really talk. Maybe they’re just cuddling? Should we go in or”

“I’M NOT GOING IN”

and they tried to like, talk to Ron about it several times and he just didn’t get it and was like “wtf” and they’d have to stop it was too awkward.

Basically reblogging because the commentary was even more hilarious.

(Source: everybody-and--television, via youngassvengers)

Just a thought

theresaplastictree:

if Fred and George had the map for years, how did they not notice that there was a man named Peter sleeping in Ron’s bed every night.

or did they just not want to ask or

(Source: everybody-and--television, via korra-chan)