i like my men how i like my tea
thrown in the boston harbor
I like my men like I like my wine.
Twelve years old and locked in a basement.
I like my men how I like my meat
ground up and in the freezer
I like my men how I like my books
bound in leather
I like my men how I like my homework
spread all over the table
one on top of the other
I’m so done with this site omg
you can literally hear him thinking ‘did he just fucking call me reindeer games?’
My brother came home from school today speaking in the lowest most gravelly voice he could at 12 years old.
So I asked him “who died and made you Batman?”
He looked up at me and took a second before once again speaking in the voice. He said, “my parents.”
I would lost it all, take my fall
why does ‘liking someone’ have to be this big secret?
why doesn’t everyone in the world just make it really clear?
why can’t we make t-shirts with the names of who we crush on?
why don’t we throw pianos at people and yell HELLO YOU ARE VERY ATTRACTIVE SIR