ok!

live fast die young bad girls do it well

my name is bonnie and i am sexually attracted to plants they/them/their pronouns

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orange-knickers:

Can’t stop won’t stop

poryqon:

if you dont eat the pizza crust you are weak and natural selection is coming for you

allthebeautifulthings9828:

I smell it in the air. It’s coming.

image

Halloween season.

ami-angelwings:

nonexistentially:

*SHOTS FIRED*

A feminist just changed your crappy joke into a much better one.

sadchula:

shardwick:

It can wait.

next time someone is mean to you just tell em this

frostbitch:

egberts:

why is everyone obsessed with skeletons

look inside yourself and you will find the answer

bombing:

no more notes. no more notes. stop the fucking notes. just let me have this

kelly1mc:

lamapalooza:

ellendegeneres:

That’s one way to handle the heat.

Ellen: “….kay”

I’m never gonna get over Ellen’s face

toothpste:

Sky Gradient: Early Morning vs Late Afternoon

ocheano:

parents : you can’t have any problems you are just a teenager

goodmorningbunny:

I’ve laid away my bamboo Chasen (茶筅) for too long. Today’s afternoon Matcha (抹茶) was such a delight - the soft froth brought the light bitterness of green tea and warm water into a beautiful almost-creamy concoction. I am most definitely stocking up on my matcha supplies and may throw in a Chawan (茶碗) as a small treat.

sinnersandstars:

no-this-is-jarod:

they got mad

Well yeah when you make the song about the lead singers’ fathers death into a goddamn joke I’d be mad too.

akswatson:

attackonyolo:

I’m screaming this is my school’s homecoming ticket

Who let the weeb on the homecoming committee

This is the rape joke:
My best friend was four years old the first time his father came into his room at midnight and tore out his throat. He still has days when I cannot hold him because the memory of a bleeding trachea haunts his doorway. He has not been home for the holidays in many years, but – even now – hands are seen as weapons.

This is the rape joke:
I have been told by more than twenty people that they have been raped. To all of them, I asked where the rapist was. From none of them, I heard ‘jail.’

This is the rape joke:
Once my brother told me that I was so ugly, I would be a virgin forever. Unless someone raped me. But even they wouldn’t come back for seconds.

This is the rape joke:
I believed him.

This is the rape joke:
I now look at every woman on the street and wonder if the space between her legs is a crime scene, surrounded by ripped caution tape. The statistics tell me that this is so common that I will never be in a room that does not contain a survivor. Not even if I am in that room alone.

This is the rape joke:
I was thirteen years old, and he was supposed to be just a friend.

This is the rape joke:
When his older brother came home, the boy pulled away. He wiped the tears from my face and said ‘we should do this again some time.’

This is the rape joke:
When I finally told my parents, they asked what I had been wearing.

This is the rape joke:
I had been wearing my innocence. My trust. I had worn the love I held for humanity and expected to be treated well. I had never been taught that I would be that girl, the one who keeps a mine of secrets between her legs – that girl was the slut. I wasn’t supposed to be breakable.
What had I been wearing? I wore the rape joke, then I became it.

This is the Rape Joke | d.a.s

After Lora Mathis’s poem “the Rape Joke

(via ragyo)