You’ve heard of Grand Theft Auto, now get ready for
stealy wheely automobiley
“I’m under a lot of pressure to create a new currency where people can profit from helping other people. This has been prophesied over and over again. I need to work harder because I feel like I know the future and I’m the one who has to drive this train.”
evasiveporpoise-deactivated2016
cooper has a valuable contribution to the abortion arguement
Woah
your dog needs meat and your kids need vaccines. end of discussion.
Also your dog needs vaccines and your kids need meat.
jennifer-lawrence-fishburne
Also your meat needs vaccines and your kids need dogs.
what these are all true
Cock is one of my favorite tastes. Not only that, but balls smell amazing. It makes me go a little crazy on it to be honest. Like, I cannot get it far enough down my throat to be satisfied. I’m only satisfied when I feel those intense, powerful, salty, hot pumps of cum down my throat. When I sit back on my heels, look up at you with cum all over my mouth and slobber running down my neck, hair all fucked up and wipe my mouth with the back of my arm and ask you if I did a good job and you cannot even speak because I’ve drained all of your energy out the tip of your dick….. That’s when I’m satisfied.
fuckthiswebsiteihateeveryone
john green u nasty and ugly as hell shut the fuck up
NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW
10,000 notes, so I guess I should comment.
On tumblr it’s really easy to make it look like people wrote things they did not write. (Needless to say, I did not write the above text.)
I find false attribution annoying in general, but here’s what I find particularly offensive about this post.
I get that I’m not the sort of person who seems likely to register a public comment on the smell of balls, so I understand the joke in associating me with the above text. But there’s something else going on here: The author of this poorly written erotica is trying to shame me by saying that I like to give oral sex to people with penises. But that’s NOT SHAMEFUL–there’s nothing wrong with people who like to give oral sex to people with penises.
So I just want to say to anyone who saw this post and may have felt like their sexuality was being used as a way to humiliate me: I’m not humiliated, and you needn’t be either. The only person who should be embarrassed here is the author, who has a lot to learn about both how to insult someone.
micspam
John Green it’s okay to love dick
i wish people would stop romanticizing not eating breakfast and not getting enough sleep and being dependent on coffee to function and always being in a bad mood and treating yourself poorly because that behavior is very unhealthy for you
She called me a week after her brother killed himself. There was no contact between us until that night. She sat down and told me that she didn’t know if it was going to work out because when she looked into my eyes she seen the intoxication of sadness of which her brother held the night she tried saving him. I told her that if she needed me I would be around the corner and I was. There was no romantic connection between us anymore, and I checked her wrists whenever we hung out. She told me the only wounds she held were far deeper into her veins and she wished that she had killed herself, too. I told her she shouldn’t talk like that but she told me to shut up and said she felt selfish for trying to save someone who was already dead. She didn’t talk to me until vodka had touched her taste-buds and she can perfectly see her brother lying on the floor in the bathroom soaked in his own crimson, she called me and I went to seen her. She was lying in the corner of her bedroom, continuing to swig the bottle as much as she could as I walked through the door. Her face was drowning in tears and she was screaming until her lungs could no longer gather oxygen of which she had to stop. I told her I loved her then she made me leave but as soon as my foot had pressed inside of my car she begged me to come back inside, I did. She said that when she looks at me she see’s her brother and she remembers yelling at him the night he killed himself. I told her that it wasn’t her fault but she screamed at me. I stayed quiet the rest of the night and allowed her to talk, that was the first night that she allowed me to touch her skin since before what had happened. The next morning she was making coffee and was in my T-shirt, sitting on the counter with a big smile on her face. She said, “Guess what I made? Your favorite” The emotions she displayed were different from what I had been seeing since what happened. We sat down and talked and laughed while we ate breakfast. But quickly after, she pushed her food in front of her and whispered, “I’m going to sleep” I didn’t say anything. I stayed in my seat as she walked into her bedroom. I left her alone for an hour and when I went to go check on she was curled up in a ball, soaking the sheet under her with sadness. I laid down next to her and held her hand. She said whenever she closes her eyes she sees him. Later that day she asked me to leave and I did. She told me she loved me but she didn’t want me loving her, she said she knew what love did to a person. I haven’t seen her in six months and I’ve been calling and begging but she continues to say, “I’m fine just busy” I went to see her one night and she was sitting on her bed with a razor in her hand, just staring wondering why he had chosen this object to take his life. I took it from her and put it in my pocket. She said nothing and pulled me into bed. “It’s been a year” she’ll say, “I miss him, I miss his horrible music taste blaring through my walls, I miss the scent of him and how he got so upset when I made eggs because he never liked him even when he was a kid, and I miss him telling me about the girls he loved and telling me about the girls who broke his heart, I miss his voice and the way it got so high when he said my name while he was laughing, I love him, I miss him and I hate him” she’ll say. I nodded, i’ve learned to say nothing when she vents. She said she hated me for having the same sad eyes he had. I didn’t say anything. She rolled over and fell asleep, so did I. I woke up around three in the morning to her hysterically crying with a vodka bottle in her hand. Her small, petite body was pressed against the wall and you could see it in her eyes she was drunk. She’ll look at me and say, “I’ve never understand why I always drink when i miss him, I think about him more” She took one last swig and through it across the room, it shattered against the wall. She laid down beside me and started crying. I told her I loved her and she rolled over. She didn’t ask me to leave instead, she held me tighter then she ever has and started crying. We laid in bed for the entire day. She fell asleep again around noon and I heard her whisper, “I love you” I replied with, “I love you, too” when she woke up she asked me to leave and I finally said no. She asked me, “Why do you torture yourself like this?” I didn’t know what to say so I kissed her and told her I loved her. She scuffed and got out of bed and locked herself in the bathroom. She was crying for a good twenty minutes until I knocked on the door and asked her why she denied loving me. She only stared at me and told me to leave again so I did. The next day I came over without letting her know, I walked into her bedroom and seen that she hung herself. I tried saving her, she was in my arms when she gave her last breathe. I now understand the pain she felt, I’m next.
I’m next -Restwerkinqforce (via restwerkinqforce)
