Amy: Brooklyn Bridge? We met on the Manhattan Bridge!
JakeYou know what? This is over. Say good-bye to the ring and everything it represents.
Amy: You son of a bitch!
_________________________________
Jake: Hey! Don’t you dare touch Amy Jr. That’s right. It’s your baby!
Amy: Are you saying I knocked you up?
Jake: You sure did!

The first time he calls you holy,
you laugh it back so hard your sides hurt.
The second time,
you moan gospel around his fingers
between your teeth.
He has always surprised
you into surprising yourself.
Because he’s an angel hiding his halo
behind his back and
nothing has ever felt so filthy
as plucking the wings from his shoulders—
undressing his softness
one feather at a time.
God, if you’re out there,
if you’re listening,
he fucks like a seraphim,
and there’s no part of scripture
that ever prepared you for his hands.
Hands that map a communion
in the cradle of your hips.
Hands that kiss hymns up your sides.
He confesses how long he’s looked
for a place to worship and,
oh,
you put him on his knees.
When he sinks to the floor and moans
like he can’t help himself,
you wonder if the other angels
fell so sweet.
He says his prayers between your thighs
and you dig your heels into the base of his spine
until he blushes the color of your filthy tongue.
You will ruin him and he will thank you;
he will say please.
No damnation ever looked as cozy as this,
but you fit over his hips like they
were made for you.
You fit, you fit, you fit.
On top of him, you are an ancient god
that only he remembers and he
offers up his skin.
And you take it.
Who knew sacrifice was so profane?
And once you’ve taught him how to hold
your throat in one hand
and your heart in the other,
you will have forgotten every other word,
except his name.
- PROFANE, by Ashe Vernon (via 5000letters);

So what happens now?
You fall in love with me.

cw-shows:

What does Hollywood typically get wrong about Latino portrayals? That we all walk around with a sombrero on our head, a jalapeño in our hand and a taco in the other one. That’s never been reality. We all are proud of where we come from, no matter what religion or culture we’re in. We all love our family; we all love our tradition. That pride does not go anywhere. But do we wear a flag on our shoulder? No. Are we always speaking Spanish and pregnant? No. That is so very far few and between, and that goes across the board. There is nobody exempt of going through hardships or going through success. What we get incorrect in this industry is that the Latino story is different than any other story. Or the black story is any different than any other story. We don’t want to only be limited to our world, or our skin color. We want to transcend. We want to be invited to the same party as everybody else. (x)

Sex is not the climax of a relationship, pardon the pun, but those moments at 2am when you wake up to her lips on your lips, her sleep-heavy body lying across yours, knowing the world is asleep whilst you move together, calling to a god that neither of you believe in… those moments are what I live for.
- (via sad—fawn);
There are people in this
world that will make words
you thought you understood
burn beneath your tongue
like firecrackers; I hope you
hold them close. I hope you
keep all their fire alive
within you.
- keeping warm in all this cold weather, Emma Bleker (via stolenwine);
CLARAOSMIN