They were just regular pumpkins?? They weren't even painted or anything. Like why!?
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They were just regular pumpkins?? They weren't even painted or anything. Like why!?

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I’ll never not be amused by the fact that I can drop the words “crucifix nail nipples” into a conversation and some of you who have been with me since the livejournal days will join me in the flashbacks, screaming and crying all the way.
I require context. Because this is a very interesting start of a story, and now I need the rest of it. Could I get a link, or a summary, or something? Pretty please?
All right buckle the fuck up kids, it’s the year 2012 and I’ve just been handed what should be an easy editing gig by my senior editor. It’s a vampire erotica story because one of the final Twilight movies is about to come out, and everything is vampires. Everything. I haven’t edited a single thing in months which isn’t about vampires. I am ready, I can do this. So I open the file and notice there’s a typo in the title, which really should have been my first inkling that something horrendous was about to go down, but you see I’m not quite dead inside yet so I carry on, bushy tailed and bright eyed with my faith in humanity intact. It’ll be dead by page 24, but I don’t know that yet. I’m just editing one more vampire boner fest.
The MC is a girl who we’ll call Sue. Sue is a Good Girl™, Sue is Not Like Other Girls™, she is pale and awkward and a virgin and has somehow managed to find herself a Bad Boy™ for a boyfriend. We’ll call him Dickhead.
Now Dickhead as previously stated is a bit of dick, he tries to pressure Sue into sex because he knows she is The One™ but he loves her really so it’s okay. Except it’s not okay because Sue is a Good Girl™ and holding out till marriage which he’s fine with except he’s got such a bad case of blue balls that one night walking home an attractive stranger lures him into an alley with the words “hey stud” and he follows, dick out before she’s even finished her sentence. Well turns out that was a mistake for Dickhead because she’s a vampire, but not just any vampire, a Dick Biting Vampire. So what started out as a skeevy blow job behind a club that he’ll feel bad about in the morning, turns into him being bitten on the dick and drained of his life essence and left for dead. Except DBV fucked up and now he’s a vampire. Are you still with me? Good, cause it’s about to get weirder.
Realizing he is now an abomination, Dickhead flees, becoming a creature of the night and feeding on animals rather than humans to repent for being such an asshole in life. Sue meanwhile is heartbroken, but carries on valiantly with her life and goes to bed each night crying for the loss of her One True Love™ who she would do anything to bring back. Well guess what Sue, Dickhead never really left you! He’s been “instinctively protecting her from rapists” by hiding out on her roof and fighting hobos who try to get to her open window via the fire escape for months now. Because that’s not fucking terrifying at all.
Upon learning of his predicament and how it happened, Sue can do nothing but blame herself. Oh if only she’d let him touch her secret places, then perhaps all of this could be avoided! Meanwhile Dickhead is having another dilemma of his own, realizing too late that his vampire powers have given him super senses and now he can smell her blood and he can’t decide whether he wants to get with her or eat her. And I don’t mean in the French sense. But he is strong! And over comes his base manly vampire instincts and neither rapes not kills her. Hurrah! And this is so romantic that Sue gives it up, but not before she launches into a theory about how in all fairy tales, True Love saves the day, so maybe her magical pure vagina that has never been touched by anyone, not even her, can bring him back to life. So Dickhead being a dickhead agrees and rips her clothes off, but not before he takes one last moment to marvel at the beauty of her purity, because he will never again look on her again and know she is Pure.
If you’ve only vomited once by now, I applaud your resolve.
So they hop on the good foot and do the nasty, except she is literally so pure in spirit, her flesh burns his. And I quote you from memory because these words are burned into my soul: “her breasts bit into his hands, like crucifix nail nipples tearing at his flesh, but he did not care because he loved her so and couldn’t stop”
This phrase haunts me. I dread that it will be the last thing I think about on my death bed and my last words will literally be “god fucking dammit” as I die, carrying that mental image with me into the afterlife. My own solace is in knowing that I inflicted it on other people too, like @ahzuri who is somehow still with me after all these years.
When the magical burning sex fails to heal him and leaves her bruised, battered and broken with “a dainty blue bells of bruises around her secret flower” (I am genuinely quoting this, I could never make something as horrendous as this up without being on acid) Dickhead leaves. Yeah. Off he fucks, leaving her to the mercy of the hobos at her window, and into the night to be the true monster he really is. But wait, there’s more. Remember the dick biting vampire? Well turns out she has figured out she made him into a vampire and has also been stalking HIM and is totally jealous of Sue, so tries to kill her. But again Sues Purity saves her, because sex before marriage which was done out of True Love is not a sin, so she is still a spiritual virgin and I’ll be honest, I started drinking heavily at this point and it’s all a bit of a blur.
A fight ensues some pages later after Dickhead returns, realizing the mistake he has made. And he rescues Sue from the Dick Biter, but not before he assaults Dick Biter, and calls her a slut for luring innocent men into alleys cuts her heart out by cutting her breasts off, at which point i screamed “THAT’S NOT HOW YOU REACH THE HEART” and my brain short circuited completely and I have no idea how it ends because I realized there was 30 pages left and my soul couldn’t take it. I emailed the chief editor like ?????!!!!!!????!!!!!! and the book was immediately pulled from the work line and the author dismissed from the publishing house. Turns out she was a friend of a friend and that was how she got the manuscript past our entry levels for requirement.
And that’s the story of how an author sent me death threats for over a month because I stopped her shitty vampire porn from ever seeing the light of day. You’re all fucking WELCOME.
Sorry to bring this searing back into your lives fam, but I feel it’s worth noting that people are tagging this as an “ancient relic” of tumblr text posts and how they’re so happy they see this every year and like guys, I hate to tell you this, but uh, this post is only six months old. I posted in on March 3rd 2016.
It only seems like years because every time you see it you age five years.
If real life was like The Sims
17 Things That Would Happen If Real Life Were Like “The Sims”
by Jen Lewis

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He's so pleased to have mini doughnuts 😂😍
highkey i just wanna get kissed
Watch: Comedian Adam Conover just obliterated every stereotype about millennials in one presentation.
I like this guy a lot

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if you’re in america and you’re eligible to vote…… i’m begging you to vote for hillary like literally begging
I wouldn’t vote for either of them. They’re both keeping secrets and will both turn this country to absolute shit.
anyway vote for hillary instead of throwing your vote away
This is what gets me. The fact that for 90 minutes Hillary clearly showed how prepared she is to be president. How capable, knowledgeable, and cool-headed she is. She put forth actually solutions to problems that are inclusive and hopeful.
Donald Trump stood there for 90 minutes and yelled belligerently into his microphone. Twenty minutes into the debate his sentences were incoherent and, as he is so skilled at doing, he managed to never actually answer the questions thrown his way, unless he was called out on it and given even more time to actually respond with something relevant to the topic at hand.
And yet here we are. The debate is over, Hillary has clearly won and shown the American people want an actual President should look like, and people still aren’t convinced. Hillary has been at this job for THIRTY YEARS. And yet, she still suffers from this ‘likability’ thing thanks to the GOP propaganda that has been smearing her name since the beginning of her career.
“But she’s a liar!” “She’s hiding something!” “She’s keeping secrets!”
Bullshit. Hillary Clinton is a high-ranking government official. Of fucking course she’s keeping secrets, that’s her damn job. If we knew ever last thing that ever went down in the State Department, we’d all shit ourselves. Those are just your own shitty excuses for not voting for her because she wasn’t your first option in the primaries. What, exactly, do people think will happen if Hillary becomes President? What would be the terrible awful outcome of that? I have never actually heard, specifically, what she would do that would ruin our country beyond repair. We all know what Trump would do. It’s his fucking platform, he’s not trying to hide anything there. But no one can actually lay out specifics on what makes Hillary so scary, other than the fact that she’s overly qualified for the job she’s being interviewed for.
If you really feel so strongly about it, fine. Vote third party. But please, do yourself a favor. Actually fucking look at what Hillary and Trump are proposing for this nation. Really try to understand what exactly will happen if one of them gets elected. And then truly think about whether or not you could stomach looking the next generation in the eye if your third party vote gets Donald Trump elected President of the United States.
“This election draws into relief how women are penalized for not being perfect while men are rewarded for not being terrible.”
I do not understand this “male privilege" bullshit.
What. Fucking. Privileges. Do. Men. Have.???????
Name them. I swear, I challenge you to name these “male privileges" and be able to prove them.
Come on, I fucking dare you.
Name them!
Oh boy. Well, as a man, I’ll tell you my male privilege.
My odds of being hired for a job, when competing against female applicants, are probably skewed in my favor. The more prestigious the job, the larger the odds are skewed.
I can be confident in the fact that my co-workers won’t think that I was hired/promoted because of my sex - despite the fact that it’s probably true.
If I ever am promoted when a woman of my peers is better suited for the job, it is because of my sex.
If i ever fail at my job or career, it won’t be seen as a blacklist against my sex’s capabilities.
I am far less likely to face sexual harassment than my female peers.
If I do the same task as a woman, and if the measurement is at all subjective, chances are people will think I did a better job.
If I am a teen or an adult, and I stay out of prison, my odds of getting raped are relatively low.
On average, I’m taught that walking alone after dark by myself is less than dangerous than it is for my female peers.
If I choose not to have children, my masculinity will not be questioned.
If I do have children but I do not provide primary care for them, my masculinity will not be questioned.
If I have children and I do care for them, I’ll be praised even if my care is only marginally competent.
If I have children and a career, no one will think I’m selfish for not staying at home.
If I seek political office, my relationship with my children or who I deem to take care of them will more often not be scrutinized by the press.
My elected representatives are mostly people of my own sex. The more prestigious the position, the more this is true.
When i seek out “the person in charge", it is likely that they will be someone of my own sex. The higher the position, the more often this is true.
As a child, chances are I am encouraged to be more active and outgoing than my sisters.
As a child, I could choose from an almost infinite variety of children’s media featuring positive, active, non-stereotyped heroes of my own sex. I never had to look for it; male protagonists were (and are) the default.
As a child, chances are I got more teacher attention than girls who raised their hands just as often.
If my day, week or year is going badly, I need not ask of each negative episode or situation whether or not it has sexist overtones. (Nobody’s going to ask if I’m upset because I’m menstruating.)
I can turn on the television or glance at the front page of the newspaper and see people of my own sex widely represented.
If I’m careless with my financial affairs it won’t be attributed to my sex.
If I’m careless with my driving it won’t be attributed to my sex.
I can speak in public to a large group without putting my sex on trial.
Even if I sleep with a lot of women, there is little to no chance that I will be seriously labeled a “slut,” nor is there any male counterpart to “slut-bashing.”
I do not have to worry about the message my wardrobe sends about my sexual availability.
My clothing is typically less expensive and better-constructed than women’s clothing for the same social status. While I have fewer options, my clothes will probably fit better than a woman’s without tailoring.
The grooming regimen expected of me is relatively cheap and consumes little time.
If I buy a new car, chances are I’ll be offered a better price than a woman buying the same car. The same goes for other expensive merchandise.
If I’m not conventionally attractive, the disadvantages are relatively small and easy to ignore.
I can be loud with no fear of being called a shrew. I can be aggressive with no fear of being called a bitch.
I can ask for legal protection from violence that happens mostly to men without being seen as a selfish special interest, since that kind of violence is called “crime” and is a general social concern. (Violence that happens mostly to women is usually called “domestic violence” or “acquaintance rape,” and is seen as a special interest issue.)
I can be confident that the ordinary language of day-to-day existence will always include my sex. “All men are created equal,” mailman, chairman, freshman, he.
My ability to make important decisions and my capability in general will never be questioned depending on what time of the month it is.
I will never be expected to change my name upon marriage or questioned if I don’t change my name.
The decision to hire me will not be based on assumptions about whether or not I might choose to have a family sometime soon.
Every major religion in the world is led primarily by people of my own sex. Even God, in most major religions, is pictured as male.
Most major religions argue that I should be the head of my household, while my wife and children should be subservient to me.
If I have a wife or live-in girlfriend, chances are we’ll divide up household chores so that she does most of the labor, and in particular the most repetitive and unrewarding tasks.
If I have children with my girlfriend or wife, I can expect her to do most of the basic childcare such as changing diapers and feeding.
If I have children with my wife or girlfriend, and it turns out that one of us needs to make career sacrifices to raise the kids, chances are we’ll both assume the career sacrificed should be hers.
Assuming I am heterosexual, magazines, billboards, television, movies, pornography, and virtually all of media is filled with images of scantily-clad women intended to appeal to me sexually. Such images of men exist, but are rarer.
In general, I am under much less pressure to be thin than my female counterparts are. If I am over-weight, I probably suffer fewer social and economic consequences for being fat than over-weight women do.
If I am heterosexual, it’s incredibly unlikely that I’ll ever be beaten up by a spouse or lover.
Complete strangers generally do not walk up to me on the street and tell me to “smile.”
Sexual harassment on the street virtually never happens to me. I do not need to plot my movements through public space in order to avoid being sexually harassed, or to mitigate sexual harassment.
On average, I am not interrupted by women as often as women are interrupted by men.
On average, I will have the privilege of not knowing about my male privilege.
And lastly, I am taken as a more credible feminist than my female peers, despite the fact that the feminist movement is not liberating to my sex.
This is male privilege.
THIS. THIS IS HOW YOU BE A MALE FEMINIST.
YES YES YES YES YES
Sad to say, but the fact that people think there’s no male privilege says a lot about social awareness.
You ever be out having fun and then you start detaching yourself from yourself and just start thinking about how happiness is temporary and how much you hate yourself and you’re unsuccessful and ugly

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OH MY GOD
It’s back