Don’t You Dare Yell At Me Or I Swear I’ll Cry

this hill you put me on wasnt high enough and i’m comin down right now. um. is this anything

- the boulder to sisyphus

enough with hills to die on. i climbed this hill to Kill

Oh rhinoceros we’re really in it now

The only “Not All Men” post I’ll reblog.

To break down rape culture, we need to stop teaching people that men can’t help themselves; they absolutely can look for enthusiastic consent, and they must. This is absolute bare minimum decent human being behaviour. 

Also, if you stop teaching people that “men can’t help themselves” it tends to go hand in hand with teaching the fact that no, men do not “always want it”– which in turn is beneficial for those men who might themselves be assaulted, regardless of the rapist’s gender. Enthusiastic, mindful consent applies to everyone.

My poor dad is dead now, but I feel he would like the widest audience possible to know that he used to routinely hand his teachers the following note. "In my opinion, David is not fit for Games today. Regards, David McDougall." My dad was not named after his father, whose name was, in fact, Victor. My dad's reasoning was he could never be accused of forging anything, because he hadn't. He'd just offered his opinion, in writing. He was never challenged, and never went to Games.

me giving my pet chihuahua two kisses: chimuahmuah

actually, growing up is feeling like i turned sixteen two days ago. i’ve been eighteen for years. fifteen year olds seem so young. wasn’t i fifteen just a few weeks ago? all my friends and i are still twelve. i’m closer to thirty then to being a baby. i never got to be a kid. i never grew past eight. i can’t talk to my mom. i want to sit in her lap forever. the week is going by so slow. an entire year has passed. i want to decide everything for myself. i need someone to tell me exactly what to do.

England people are so funny they always be saying. I’m not bovered

Illegal Fireworks Attack Brave Officers