Basically what's in my head - the good, the bad and everything in between
My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard and they’re like
“How did a milkshake manage to develop a gravitational pull that was gender specific?”
I lost it.
THAT FACE
HE’S SO STRESSED ABOUT THE BOYS
(via saxypone)
ten inch dick aka longer than my forearm
i know there are some writers who follow me
please
take note
I believe the average is 6 inches? The longest is 14, an he suffers dizziness when he gets a boner, and even though he’s heterosexual, he can only have sex with men (or anally with women) as his cock can’t fit in a vagina.
So writers, take note.
jesus h. christ
I once had a boyfriend who was quite well-endowed, and that was some painful, annoying shit right there (especially with a selfish dude who didn’t really think about that/blamed me for being “tiny,” what the fuck). The average vagina is 3-4 inches deep, though some women may have a depth of 6-7 inches.
Of course, a lady’s Sarlaac Pit is designed to accomodate rather large things. That does not, however, mean that it is comfortable or fun to have those large things in your hermetically-sealed shame basket, not to mention have it ramming repeatedly against your cervix. Ow fucking ow.
Contrary to popular belief, bigger is NOT ALWAYS BETTER.
A rectum can be between 5-7 inches deep. A pliable dildo could push past that, taking that sharp curve into the large intestine, if you’re patient and flexible and you have a lot of lube at your disposal. And you don’t mind things being in your INTESTINES, oh my God. A hard dick, however, that isn’t so bendy, would be another story entirely.
So if you’re shooting for realistic sex and your bottom isn’t into pain, you may want to reconsider giving your top anything over 7-8 inches of dick. 10+ inches might sound awesome but like Communism, for most people at least, it’s better in theory than it is in practice.
This very NSFW and TMI-imbued post brought to you by all the fucks I do not give.
Oh and if anyone accuses me of kink shaming I will find you and I will skin you.
ive learned a lot today omg
i think the last of my innocence just got killed reading this
I reblogged this yesterday but I just have to reblogg again for ^
#huge dicks are like communism
can someone please put that on a shirt
Beautiful. Just… beautiful
(via neverlast1)
(via avoidingnarcissism)
22mg:
Pack of Dogs Playing Cards by John Littleboy
John Littleboy is a self-proclaimed “artist of all things inky-dinky.” Littleboy studied at Rhode Island School of Design and graduated from Stanford University. He currently resides in San Francisco.
i!!!!!!!! want to!!!!! buy these!!!!!!
(via hello-capt-jack-harkness)
(via atomicwrangler)
captain-sherlock-mcdoctor-pants:
Study: Free birth control leads to way fewer abortions - CBS News
Way fewer.
NO. WAY.
—BB
Weird. It’s almost like people who do not get pregnant don’t even need abortions.
IN OTHER NEWS WATER IS WET
FIRE IS BURNY
Lol, Tumblr, I love you. :)
(via anothersaturdaymorning)
(via cock-n-roll)
Oh, Manny. :)
(via anothersaturdaymorning)
Always reblog the no-look pass.
Could he just make an entrance like in the first gif every time he enters a room? He looks so cool when he does that.
No, but what if every time John walked into a room that Sherlock was in, he would just throw something to Sherlock, whatever had to do with the case, or just a pen, and Sherlock would use it, because John could tell what he wanted each time. Pen, shoe, scarf, phone, tea mug, anything.
Then, the day after Reichenbach, out of habit, John walked into the flat, and instinctively picked up and pen and threw it. He only remembered Sherlock wasn’t there when he heard the pen clatter to the ground.
nice to meet you satan
Three years have gone by and finally John has lost the habit of throwing things to a man who is no longer there. He’s broken at least 8 mugs since Sherlock’s dea- no. He still cannot think the word. As long as he refuses to believe Sherlock is gone, he will still be there.
One night after a particularly long day consisting of far too many meetings John walks home to 221B. He imagines Sherlock’s eye-rolling, and scoffing reactions to Anderson’s many idiotic theories about their latest killer, and smiles to himself. He unlocks the door, enters, and throws his jacket over the nearest chair. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Sherlock’s old mobile, and for a moment forgets everything that happened. He wraps his hand around the device, and tosses it behind him, silently cursing himself for probably breaking one of the last pieces of Sherlock in his possession, as he waits for the inevitable clatter of plastic on wood. But there is no sound.
“Hello, John.”
YOU MADE IT BETTER
YOU SOOTHED THE WOUND
Great people drink wine from big glasses.
(via we-found-eachother)
