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pervocracy:

Dear anti-BDSM blogs:

When you reblog kinksters telling each other “don’t play with X/go to Y party, we’ve heard reports of them violating consent or doing unsafe things, please stay safe” with a triumphant “SEE I TOLD YOU THEY WERE ALL ABUSERS,” you are doing the exact opposite of helping…

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"Old Pain I’m used to: the tightness in my hips when I don’t stretch in the morning, the pressure where my legs meet my back when I walk too far. It’s not that I don’t feel it; it’s just been there for so long that I know not to get nervous about it anymore. New Pain is where it gets scary because it stops having a name. I can’t immediately catalog it or diagnose it as benign. At best, disability allows you to create a tenuous peace with your body, and anytime it decides to violate that mutual agreement can be terrifying. You take the time to figure it out — what it likes and dislikes, where it functions best — and stick to that routine, until New Pain reminds you that you’re never quite going to have this figured out."

Know Me Where It Hurts: Sex, Kink, and Cerebral Palsy (x)

Oh, this is fantastic. Thank you for the term “new pain.” I’d never heard it before, but it immediately made sense to me.

(via queershoulder)

(Source: rhymeplotsweirdthoughts, via queershoulder)

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(Source: 666marks, via lesbian-sadist)

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ofthemilkyway:

diamondthegoddess:

blindthoughts:

During sex she said “deeper” so I rolled over and started reading her poetry.

this is one of the greatest things i have EVER read, EVER.

CW: consensual kink

One of the best sexual experiences I ever had was when my top made me read poetry while getting caned. It was fucking AWESOME. It was supposed to be a “haha see if you can keep reading this while I inflict delicious pain to your thighs” challenged, but they picked a really great book of poems I’d never read so the adrenaline from the caning amplified my ability to read aloud and connect with the words.

(Source: sosa-parks)

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queershoulder:

melissa:

Gayle Rubin, singing my song.

Mine too!

fuck yeah gayle rubin. (is there a blog? there should be a blog.)

queershoulder:

melissa:

Gayle Rubin, singing my song.

Mine too!

fuck yeah gayle rubin. (is there a blog? there should be a blog.)

(Source: melissa)

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See, my kinky leather identity grew firmly out of my queerness and my feminism. All three of those elements are important, and in some ways inseparable, dependent on one another. It’s important to me to pursue the sort of social justice that ensures that our consensual relationships are someday entered into from a place of roughly equal societal power. Without that aim, we’re simply perpetuating oppression.

Let me be clear: I am not saying that we need to wait until after the revolution to have the kind of sex and/or play that we want. I’m saying that we cannot turn a blind eye to the institutionalized power imbalances that affect our interpersonal relations when we’re negotiating our consensual power exchanges. To do so is venal and corrosive. To do so with a shrug and a nod to the tired catchphrase “your kink is OK” is offensive.

There, I said it.

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— From Lori Selke’s Dear Leather Scene: Goodbye To All That. Read the whole thing, please. (via queershoulder)

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icecoldnukacola:

"i can think critically about why this shitty tv show i enjoy is problematic, but i can’t possibly stop for a second to think a tiny bit about why it might be that i literally get off to violence against women, or sexualization of daddy/little girl relationships, or simulated rape.  that’s just going too far."

radical queer rhetoric

thx actually i think about why it is that i get off on daddy/girl and heavy gender play all the time and am pretty selective about which partners i’m comfortable sharing that with, but it’s good to know that ignorant-ass femmes are still up to shit on the critical thinking skills and decision-making power of other femmes! i can’t even count the number of queer femmes i know who are into this kind of play and have spent years and years shitting on themselves over it, taking it apart, wondering why they like it, and worrying about what it means for them as feminists and radicals. i cannot believe how fucking condescending it is to assume that women and femmes have not thought about this shit long and hard.

kink communities can be incredibly awful in all the ways any community can be incredibly awful. for example, my own leatherdyke scene is one of the only places i see many trans women dating, fucking, and playing (i.e. it seems to be a place where the cotton ceiling is fraying), and it’s one of the most disability-conscious scenes i’ve ever been in, but it’s also unnervingly and disturbingly white. radical queers can suck at actually connecting the dots between their sex/relationship practices and truly radical community-building and politics, this is true. but if you wanna criticize a woman or a femme for playing with their own (personal or societal/systemic) trauma on their own terms, you need to sit the fuck down and shut up. 

(via fuckyeahhardfemme)

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Round-up of Erotica Featuring Characters with Mental Health Issues

tgstonebutch:

(updated 12/1/13)

Here is a round-up of the erotic fiction I know that features characters with mental health issues. It is substantively skewed to BDSM erotic fiction, and queer erotica, as I am much more likely to read that. It is not as thorough as I…

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HELLO, THERE!

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notes from a night drive after five nights with no sleep and a weekend of debauchery

  • autoroute 20, you are drunk
  • high school roleplay: we get stoned, listen to modest mouse, make brilliant observations, and dry hump. we know it’s roleplay because no one even pretends to think isaac brock is a decent human being.
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terrifying butch sadist and her femme babygirl liked my message and are interested in discussing the scene with me. i am actually barely refraining from screaming like a fool at work right now. S-C-R-E-A-M-I-N-G. 

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oh my god we are setting a date for that three-way scene. if the date works for the other femme, that weekend is gonna be nuuuuts: faggity with my favorite dj in mtl on friday, fancy kinky threesome date on saturday, my favorite dj duo in mtl at daomé on sunday. living.the.dream. (even if i still have no idea how that terrifying sadist i approached feels about my request.)

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This week, here with you, I’m having a hard time keeping my mind my own. Instead I am winging off wildly, swirling circling yours like a carrion-bird, picking over the familiar sweet-rotting carcasses of your depression, your anxiety, your perfectionism, flaring and feeding each other. I keep thinking I don’t know how to top you, too many things uncertain and off-limits. (The first time with you, four years ago, I fucked you hard, my first time learning the alignment of elbow and wrist and fingers to fuck forever, the fuck flowing smooth through the alignment of my bones. I didn’t know until last week that lately you’re usually stone. Oh.) I keep falling into that script of crazy people can’t be trusted, can’t fuck, can’t love, can’t find their own edges. I’ve been overconfident, forgetting that new cities, new places, new people stoke my own anxiety, forgetting that not having all my usual foods and spices and spaces is hard. Forgetting that being with you doesn’t mean fixing everything for you or forgetting myself for you. We have both felt that desire to decide it all together, to let a person be our last line of defense. But that is not ours.

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Days in bed with you, broken and breaking down harder, splintering around you at the slightest touch. One of those days, one of those days after we split and so I was half-healed, half-whole, half-strong, half-resilient and half-returned to being my own person, one of those days you told me the girl after me had called you Daddy. And, crushed, I asked, I must have asked, do you think I will ever get to have a Daddy? Or maybe I accused, you don’t think I can ever have a Daddy. And you said, no, I think you can, but they’ll have to be so strong. They’ll have to be so, so strong.