the only way to get rid of temptation

*sniff sniff sniff* ah, i see. you are not an ant.

Even though it was dark out, and all the hot teens who kill people were locked in their chambers, I somehow managed to leave mine undetected, sliding my skinny little Polly Pocket body through the edges of my vaulted door. I moved Taylor Sw*ftly, heading towards the one place that gave me comfort in this hellhole of a prison: the library. Where no one ever went except for me because I'm different and quirky and like to lead. The library was off limits to prisoners, and even though it held all of Tic Tac's ancient history, for some reason it was uninteresting to everyone in the realm. But not to me. The smell of black mold and asbestos and 300-year old dust clouded my senses, welcoming me like a bouncer at a club as I made my way through the candle-lit fire hazard shelves. "Now I'm quite certain you're not supposed to be here" a silky low one hundred thousand dollar sounding voice called from behind my bony shoulder. I jumped, almost tripping over my silly little baby bird feet as I turned. The prince, who was not in his usual formal attire, but in a pair of Buzz Lightyear spaceship pajamas, was standing before me towering overly like the Hulk. The candle light danced across his chiseled jawline and his dark brown fusilli curls fell in front of sleepy blue orbs. It made Cornhole look almost…human. I gathered my shock, praying that the split second I faltered he didn't notice. But the way the corners or his mouth turned upward like the Cheshire Cat told me he did. "And I thought you couldn't read! But look at that, here we are," I said, hiding the ancient tome I had pulled from the shelf behind by stick thin body as I tried to casually move out of his gaze. He stepped closer, pressing his ice cube tray abs against my small frame and giant rack. His breath was warm and damp like a dog as he laced a large hand behind my waist grabbing onto the book in my hands. He smiled. His dentine teeth shining in the dark as his lapis lazuli eyes flicked to my mouth. "I could have you killed you know." My stomach slut dropped, aching for him to rip my insides open and wear me like a tracksuit. "Do it," I breathed. The words leaking out of me like an anxious girl with IBS. He growled, low and guttural, like he was about to devour me whole as he leaned into my uncooked linguine hair. "Tempting," he whispered, pulling back and taking the book from me in one quick swoop. "But I think I'll wait. Who knows what you'll get up to alive." He winked at me like a car salesman and moonwalked out the door, leaving me standing there star struck and empty-handed. What the hell was that??

we need to periodically remind everyone that a headline not including a person's name isn't an attempt to erase their identity from the narrative, it's just not good practice to put someone's name in a headline unless the reader can be expected to already know who they are

"if you can say the name in the article why can't you say the name in the headline?" what do you think a headline is for

I want to pet you like an animal...

These are now back in stock! My shop is currently open from now until about mid-July for anyone interested ( ^___^ )/❤️

the oldest reblogs for this post that i can find are from january 2nd of 2013. this can has been getting kicked around tumblr for almost 13½ years now

And yet somehow this is my first time kicking it!

i think people are starting to confuse class analysis with bioessentialism. like... no not all men do this, but Men as a constructed social class do do this. that's still okay to say. that is regular material analysis of the world around us.

Oh my goodness, this is so beautiful. Everything about this is perfect.

Shout out to mediocre black people actually. Shout out to black people who are bad at shit. You don’t need to be the best for your life to matter.