men every time: so i can hit you, right? i can beat the absolute shit out of you? it’s equality :)
Men =/= Women
Women can have equal social standing when they make an equal contribution and half of our infantry are women.
William. You are so brave for talking shit when you look like this. How many layers of inbred are you? Is your family tree more like a family donut? I can see that you tried with that hairstyle, but you shouldn’t have. You see, Billy Bob, you can’t just take the shavings from your head and sprinkle them on your top lip and call that a mustache. That hairline is trying to run away from your bad opinions. Your eyebrows aren’t even on speaking terms. Every level of your development as a human has been another mistake. And here you sit, on your porn blog, explaining to human women why we can’t be equal until we’re half of the infantry… are you? I find that really hard to believe. Is that what you think makes a person worthwhile? Being a meat shield? Cleetus, if that’s all you aspire to, I’m so sorry. Look at those shoulders. You wouldn’t even be a good meat shield, because someone could shoot at you point blank and still miss
What contribution have you made to society? The largest cumsock collection in all of Alabama? Most Cousins Fucked 2k15? How many confederate flags do you own, exactly?
Billy bob. No one wants to be equal to you. We can do so much better than that.
Idk Clarice, maybe we’re just tired, and life is uncertain, and we like the idea of a stable husband with a steady job and a big dog and his own place away from all the loud, shapeshifting-kink party gods.
A dating service where matching is based on people’s search history exists. You’re a serial killer. You go on a date with a writer.
Serial Killer: metaphorically, if you were to kill someone, how would you do it?
Writer: Air shot between the toes, it’ll look like a heart attack.
Serial Killer who is obviously in love already: *sucks in a breath* ok
Writer: how long would it take to die if you were to potentially stab someone in the guts
Serial killer: anywhere from 2 to 30 minutes
Writer, already bringing a ring out: *shaking* thanks
A++ addition
Writer: *shows the serial killer the murder scene they’re writing* babe, i’m not sure if this would actually work?
Serial killer: *kisses writer on the forehead and leaves, comes back later, a suspicious scent of blood coming off them* it works baby, you’re doing great
I LOVE THIS
Oh no, murder comedy is my jam
I love this, I love all of this, but quick question, does the author know? Like are they aware that their significant other is a serial killer or do they just think that they have a morbid sense of humor? It’d be even funnier if the author had no fucking clue, like how Aurthur Conan Doyle was apparently stupidly gullible, and on top of it they’re a horror or crime novelist. Like the serial killer works at a butcher shop or something so it’s completely normal for them to come home smelling like blood, no murders going on here, no sirey. Just my darling coming back home from a long day at work.
Now fast forward a bit and the author has managed to get their first book published, with loving support from the serial killer who helped them fine tune all the murder scenes, and it’s a big hit. Enough so that a detective with the local police department has noticed some disturbing similarities to several active cases, including details that were never released to the press. Obviously he brings this up to his superior and convinces him that there’s something to the theory, but it’s all circumstantial right now. He stakes out the author’s home and is super convinced that the author is the murderer, but they don’t seem to do anything??? Like they literally are at the house all day, that’s it. Most they do is leave for groceries.
So you get this dynamic of the serial killer mining the author for creative murder schemes, the author being lovingly encouraged by the serial killer, and finally the detective who is just so sure that the author is the killer and that if he sticks it out long enough he’ll FINALLY have proof.
Plot twist, The serial killer and detective use to go out so it gets sub what personal.
“You need to stop seeing them. I think they are a serial killer.”
Serial killer breaths in. “Look-”
…perfect
I don’t like actual murder mysteries, but this is perfect
men every time: so i can hit you, right? i can beat the absolute shit out of you? it’s equality :)
Men =/= Women
Women can have equal social standing when they make an equal contribution and half of our infantry are women.
William. You are so brave for talking shit when you look like this. How many layers of inbred are you? Is your family tree more like a family donut? I can see that you tried with that hairstyle, but you shouldn’t have. You see, Billy Bob, you can’t just take the shavings from your head and sprinkle them on your top lip and call that a mustache. That hairline is trying to run away from your bad opinions. Your eyebrows aren’t even on speaking terms. Every level of your development as a human has been another mistake. And here you sit, on your porn blog, explaining to human women why we can’t be equal until we’re half of the infantry… are you? I find that really hard to believe. Is that what you think makes a person worthwhile? Being a meat shield? Cleetus, if that’s all you aspire to, I’m so sorry. Look at those shoulders. You wouldn’t even be a good meat shield, because someone could shoot at you point blank and still miss
What contribution have you made to society? The largest cumsock collection in all of Alabama? Most Cousins Fucked 2k15? How many confederate flags do you own, exactly?
Billy bob. No one wants to be equal to you. We can do so much better than that.
Idk Clarice, maybe we’re just tired, and life is uncertain, and we like the idea of a stable husband with a steady job and a big dog and his own place away from all the loud, shapeshifting-kink party gods.
A dating service where matching is based on people’s search history exists. You’re a serial killer. You go on a date with a writer.
Serial Killer: metaphorically, if you were to kill someone, how would you do it?
Writer: Air shot between the toes, it’ll look like a heart attack.
Serial Killer who is obviously in love already: *sucks in a breath* ok
Writer: how long would it take to die if you were to potentially stab someone in the guts
Serial killer: anywhere from 2 to 30 minutes
Writer, already bringing a ring out: *shaking* thanks
A++ addition
Writer: *shows the serial killer the murder scene they’re writing* babe, i’m not sure if this would actually work?
Serial killer: *kisses writer on the forehead and leaves, comes back later, a suspicious scent of blood coming off them* it works baby, you’re doing great
I LOVE THIS
Oh no, murder comedy is my jam
I love this, I love all of this, but quick question, does the author know? Like are they aware that their significant other is a serial killer or do they just think that they have a morbid sense of humor? It’d be even funnier if the author had no fucking clue, like how Aurthur Conan Doyle was apparently stupidly gullible, and on top of it they’re a horror or crime novelist. Like the serial killer works at a butcher shop or something so it’s completely normal for them to come home smelling like blood, no murders going on here, no sirey. Just my darling coming back home from a long day at work.
Now fast forward a bit and the author has managed to get their first book published, with loving support from the serial killer who helped them fine tune all the murder scenes, and it’s a big hit. Enough so that a detective with the local police department has noticed some disturbing similarities to several active cases, including details that were never released to the press. Obviously he brings this up to his superior and convinces him that there’s something to the theory, but it’s all circumstantial right now. He stakes out the author’s home and is super convinced that the author is the murderer, but they don’t seem to do anything??? Like they literally are at the house all day, that’s it. Most they do is leave for groceries.
So you get this dynamic of the serial killer mining the author for creative murder schemes, the author being lovingly encouraged by the serial killer, and finally the detective who is just so sure that the author is the killer and that if he sticks it out long enough he’ll FINALLY have proof.
Plot twist, The serial killer and detective use to go out so it gets sub what personal.
“You need to stop seeing them. I think they are a serial killer.”
Serial killer breaths in. “Look-”
…perfect
I don’t like actual murder mysteries, but this is perfect
20 years old. Pisces. 22/02 is my fucking birthday.
Girl. Brazil. Filmmaking Student.
I live in Sao fucking Paulo, the brazilian version of New York.
One of my biggest passions is travelling, and i do it a lot.
If i say i'll meet you somewhere in the globe, I'M GOING. I dont shit about that.
Quote of the week
No one is going to read this shit anyway. fuck it. - Cheat Girl
My Bucket List
+ do a bucket list
+ put something interesting in spoke bucket list
About here
My fandoms, what make me giggle, what make me feel like i should reblog. This is the corner of everything that goes in my mind. Reblogging bitch.
