the bunny speaks

what y’all call jungkook

yes i’ve been looking at the tags on my post n kept a tally 

so far the most popular names for him are

  • jungkook
  • jk
  • kookie

but some of you have interesting names for him n imma shout a few of my faves

the cute ones 

  • baby boy
  • nochu
  • my little star
  • mi conejito
  • mi bebé 
  • every version of ‘bunny’

the meme ones

  • roach
  • mr thighs
  • brat
  • little shit
  • jungle book
  • junk jingkook
  • a chode

I called Hugh Hefner a pimp, he threatened to sue. But that’s what he was

Now that he’s dead, the old sleaze in the Playboy mansion is being spoken of as some kind of liberator of women. Quite the opposite

Long ago, in another time, I got a call from a lawyer. Hugh Hefner was threatening a libel action against me and the paper I worked for at the time, for something I had written. Journalists live in dread of such calls. I had called Hefner a pimp. To me this was not even controversial; it was self-evident. And he was just one of the many “libertines” who had threatened me with court action over the years.

It is strange that these outlaws have recourse in this way, but they do. But at the time, part of me wanted my allegation to be tested in a court of law. What a case it could have made. What a hoot it would have been to argue whether a man who procured, solicited and made profits from women selling sex could be called a pimp. Of course, central to Playboy’s ideology is the idea that women do this kind of thing willingly; that at 23 they want nothing more than to jump octogenarians.

Now that he’s dead, the disgusting old sleaze in the smoking jacket is being spoken of as some kind of liberator of women. Kim Kardashian is honoured to have been involved. Righty ho.

I don’t really know which which women were liberated by Hefner’s fantasies. I guess if you aspired to be a living Barbie it was as fabulous as it is to be in Donald Trump’s entourage. Had we gone to court, I would like to have heard some of the former playmates and bunnies speak up in court – because over the years they have.

The accounts of the “privileged few” who made it into the inner sanctum of the 29-room Playboy mansion as wives/girlfriends/bunny rabbits are quite something. In Hefner’s petting zoo/harem/brothel, these interchangeable blondes were put on a curfew. They were not allowed to have friends to visit. And certainly not boyfriends. They were given an “allowance”. The big metal gates on the mansion that everyone claimed were to keep people out of this “nirvana” were described by one-time Hefner “girlfriend no 1” Holly Madison in her autobiography thus: “I grew to feel it was meant to lock me in.”

The fantasy that Hefner sold was not a fantasy of freedom for women, but for men. Women had to be strangely chaste but constantly available for the right price. Dressing grown women as rabbits – once seen as the height of sophistication – is now seen as camp and ironic. There are those today who want to celebrate Hefner’s contribution to magazine journalism, and I don’t dispute that Playboy did use some fantastic writers. of Hefner’s business acumen was to make the selling of female flesh respectable and hip, to make soft porn acceptable. Every man’s dream was to have Hefner’s lifestyle. Apparently. Every picture of him, right to the end, shows him with his lizard smirk surrounded by blonde clones. Every half-wit on Twitter is asking if Hefner will go to heaven when he already lived in it.

But listen to what the women say about this heaven. Every week, Izabella St James recalls, they had to go to his room and “wait while he picked the dog poo off the carpet – and then ask for our allowance. A thousand dollars counted out in crisp hundred dollar bills from a safe in one of his bookcases.”

If any of them left the mansion and were not available for club nights where they were paraded, they didn’t get their allowance. The sheets in the mansion were stained. There was to be no bickering between girlfriends. No condoms could be used. A nurse sometimes had to be called to Hefner’s “grotto” if he’d had a fall. Nonetheless, these young women would have to perform.

Hefner – repeatedly described as an icon for sexual liberation – would lie there with, I guess, an iconic erection, Viagra-ed to the eyeballs. The main girlfriend would then be called to give him oral sex. There was no protection and no testing. He didn’t care, wrote Jill Ann Spaulding. Then the other women would take turns to get on top of him for two minutes while the girls in the background enacted lesbian scenarios to keep “Daddy” excited. Is there no end to this glamour?

Well now there is, of course. But this man is still being celebrated by people who should know better. You can dress it up with talk of glamour and bunny ears and fishnets, you can talk about his contribution to gonzo journalism, you can contextualise his drive to free up sex as part of the sexual revolution. But strip it all back and he was a man who bought and sold women to other men. Isn’t that the definition of a pimp? I couldn’t possibly say.

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2017/sep/28/hugh-hefner-pimp-sue-playboy-mansion

Memories Pennywise x Reader

Requester: Anonymous

Prompt: A Pennywise imagine where he saves you from Henry Bowers and after he does you think he’s going to eat you but he tells you he won’t because he’s been protecting you ever since you were little. Basically he explains it to her like a story and at the end the reader trusts him and he tells her that he will always have her back and protect her. Please just make it fluffy and cute thank you!

Warning: Bullying, death, and Henry Bower’s potty mouth

Note: Got nothing. Enjoy! XD!

Originally posted by thelongforgottenglamorousdays

Originally posted by janellalove

Originally posted by jonroru

You were once again running for you life as Bower’s and his gang chased after you. They constantly did this at a daily basis, chasing you like predator to prey.

“Run little bunny! Run!” Henry chanted.

They called you a bunny or a rabbit because you were just as fast as one and just as vulnerable as one. You were gasping for breath as you ran cursing high school for making you have to carry around so many binders and textbooks.

You eventually stepped wrong and cried out in pain feeling something snap inside your ankle as you tumbled. You whimpered from both fear and pain in the dirt as they surrounded you like a pack of hungry wolves.

“Get up little bunny.” Henry said nudging you roughly with his foot.

They laughed and chuckled as you didn’t move and only made weak noises.

“Get up little bunny. We ain’t done with you yet.” The main bully spat.

When you made no attempt to move Patrick grabbed you by your backpack and yanked you up. You had to lean on your other leg since your right ankle was a bruised color.

Henry grabbed your chin squeezing your cheeks together as he seemed to examine you like a farmer to livestock. He moved his hand to your mouth and you bit down as hard as you could on the webbing between his thumb and pointer finger.

As a result, Henry cried out in pain and had to land three blows to your head before you finally let go. He cursed nursing his hand for a few seconds before turning back towards you and punching you right in the face.

You fell to the ground and they all laughed at you.

“Stop laughing at me!” You finally spoke, able to push yourself up but you had to lean on your arm.

“Oh so the bunny speaks after all. What was that you said lil’ bunny?” Henry asked getting in your face.

“I said go fuck yourself you mullet headed fucktard.”

He growled and pushed you onto the ground squeezing your throat tightly. You choked and grabbed onto his muscular arms digging your nails into them which only resulted in him squeezing tighter.

“Henry don’t kill her!” Belch warned.

“Shut up!” Henry shouted before turning back toward you.

“You listen to me now punk. If you even think of calling me that nickname again I swear to god-”

“Uh…Henry…” Victor said.

The boy looked up and saw a clown was heading their way with a bunch of red balloons in his hand. Henry got off of you just as you were turning blue and you coughed and gasped for air desperately as he stood up.

“What do you want clown?” Henry spat.

“Care for a balloon?” The clown asked gesturing towards his handful of red balloons.

“Go fuck yourself creep.”

The clowns smile turned into a frown and you watched petrified as his eyes turned gold and he started laughing hysterically. Henry took a couple steps back as the clown continued to laugh until his eyes fell out and he seemed to be morphing into something.

A wolfs muzzle grew out of his mouth as his clothes and skin ripped apart till all there was left was a giant wolf. You wanted to scream but your throat was closed too tightly and your lung lacked the oxygen needed.

You were instead hyperventilating heavily unable to move. When he barked at them Bower’s and his gang scrambled away screaming like girls and tripping on the ground. The werewolf growled and you shuddered, tears of absolute fear prickling at your wide eyes.

The once-clown stepped towards you and you scrambled to get up desperate to run. You only got so far before a hand—surprisingly not furry, grabbed your wrist. You turned around to see it was the clown again but his eyes were a soft blue.

Still you were terrified from his earlier show of transforming into a werewolf and screamed and fought punching, yanking, scratching, pulling on his hand, but that clown was inhumanly strong.

“Help me!” You cried out, “Someone help me please!”

Eventually he pulled you so your back was to his chest with his elongated arms around your waist. You shrieked at the top of your lungs and continuously struggled in vain which only made you out of breath.

You shuddered as he pulled his head down to your neck to nuzzle and sniff the jugular vein there. You sobbed knowing this was probably the end of the line for you; you were going to end up as one of those kids on missing posters.

He was going to kill you and then eat you like the rest of the kids he has kidnapped.
You could imagine your grave right now.

(Name)

(Last Name)

Born: 1942

Died: 1958

Due to unknown circumstances

You could hear him heavily sniff your neck like he was smelling the fear radiating off your body as a putrid odor.

“Why so scared kiddo?” He asked.

You shuddered at his squeaky voice, goosebumps rising across your skin from just his voice alone.

“Don’t be scared kiddo, I’m not gonna eat you.” The clown promised.

“I already know your promises are empty. You are going to eat me like the rest of the kids.” You sobbed.

“If I was going to eat you I would’ve done it a long time ago.” He snickered.

“That because you just caught me now.”

“No. Believe it or not kiddo I actually have been watching you well you were still developing in your mother’s body…. Actually, I’ve been watching your entire family’s generation since the 1800’s.”

“Huh?”

Pennywise grinned as he began to explain, “I had fallen in love with a human mortal, your very great grandmother. I loved her until the very last day of her existence. That day though, I made a promise to her.”

Keep reading

You know what I want? A post-apocalyptic story that focuses on a ragtag group of the kind of people who are usually ignored in stories like those.

A paranoid schizophrenic who is slowly running out of meds and is afraid of what will happen when they do

A paralyzed character who was left behind by their group because they slowed them down

A transgender character who is not done transitioning and is almost out of their hormone treatment

A character dealing with chronic pain who doesn’t have any painkillers or meds left and has to deal with pain 24/7

A really religious character whose religion forbids them to eat meat and is trying to figure out how to handle their religion and survive at the same time

A pregnant teenage girl who was told she’d be a weakness for her group because she refused to get an abortion and had to strike out on her own

And then, in the end, they end up saving the world.

anonymous asked:

hey do you or anyone else have tips on how to stay on a routine? i desperetly need one but ever time i try i keep getting distracted by things and my special interests - 💙🐰 [blue bunny]

im not sure! could making some routine cards potentially help? on bad days i stick them on the wall right in front of my desk so every time i look up im forced to see them.

or setting alarms maybe? reminding you what you should be doing at certain times of each day? im struggling to think of anything else at the moment so im unsure

does anyone have any tips or advice or experience?

Does anyone else w ocd symptoms have issues using items that may get wear and tear?

For example im autistic and i cant chew any of my chewy toys unless i know i have a backup, otherwise i get too anxious and end up having panic attacks or meltdowns. Looking for ways to deal with this that dont end up with me buying two of everything :(