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mylittlebig-world-of-my-mind:

take-me-tom-hiddleston:

ship-it-all-the-way:

jadedfalling:

sickledsnake:

itsdorkgirl:

gravemakers-and-gunslingers:

BOND is a tiny touch module. It can be a pendant or a bracelet but it comes in pairs. You keep one and you give one to a friend. When you touch it, your friend feels it. No matter where they are on the planet. We don’t do tweets, we do tickles.

we need this

gonna put it on my dick

THAT IS NOT THE INTENDED USE SIR

This is actually so cool because some people wear bracelets and necklaces and things as comfort items. I used to wear a necklace from my grandma to remind me of her and I would touch the pendant on it when I was feeling down or stressed. So imagine (if she were still alive), every time I did that she would know I was thinking of her, drawing strength from her.

And then imagine poking it and the other person feels it and pokes back and you end up in a real life facebook poke war.

I would send messages in morse code

magine you and your best friend have one. When the friend dies, he/she is buried with the bracelet. A couple weeks later, you feel someone touch your wrist.

Well this escalated from cool tech to perverted hilarity to something heartfelt then finally something out a creepypasta

(Source: ldrsociety)

thatthinginyourshoe:

lil-bit-ghei:

lil-bit-ghei:

"What were you wearing?"

I wore a red dress to work today. It has a zipper at either side of my chest that can unzip and reveal a thin strip of skin. A coworker, without warning, tried pulling at the zipper and when it wouldn’t zip, instead revealed a good portion of my collarbone and shoulder as well as my bra strap. An hour later, the same coworker came up and told me to not wear clothes with zippers because he’ll go right ahead and unzip them. I shot back that unzipping me without my permission is sexual harassment. Apparently a manager heard and berated my coworker. At the end of my shift, my coworker told me that my little comment got him in trouble and that he no longer feels comfortable saying anything to me other than “hello” and “goodbye.”

I am supposed to feel guilty for pointing out that he can’t lay his fucking hands on me.

So I wore the infamous dress at work yesterday and ANOTHER MALE COWORKER DECIDED TO PULL AT ONE OF MY FUCKING ZIPPERS.
We were surrounded by other (also male) coworkers (that did nothing) and I swatted his hand away while promptly informing him that he didn’t have permission to touch me.

He then asked, since he knows I cosplay, if it would be any different if I wore a revealing costume. I gave him a dirty look and told him that no matter what *I* decide to wear, no one is allowed “to lay a finger on me unless they want my foot up their ass.”

Being that I’m quite professional at work, they were all surprised by my language and the ferocity with which I spat my promise.

you fucking go girl

When I was 16, I had a fake I.D. and decided to go to a gay bar by myself because some friends bailed on me. While there, an older gentleman bought me a drink. He wasn’t a creeper, and he definitely wasn’t unattractive. I accepted the drink and began talking to him. No big deal. As the hour progressed, I felt myself feeling strange. I mentioned that I felt like I had a headache, and this guy helped guide me out of the bar. As we were walking down the street, the thought of, ‘Oh god, he’s drugged me, I’m going to die’ came to my head. I tried to get away, but I was so drugged up that I could barely walk, let alone speak. It also didn’t help that I had really large ‘goth’ platform shoes because I was going through a phase. Anyway, this guy brought me to his suv and began undressing me. As a final act of defiance, I hit him over the head with my platform shoe. He then punched me, and I remember thinking, ‘Why don’t they ever give workshops to gay guys about being victims of rape too?’ While I was as careful as possible, I never saw the guy slip something in the drink. I even watched the bar tender make the drink. Anyway, I lied there completely paralyzed while this pervert was lubing up. I locked eyes with his for a moment, and that’s when it happened. A very large and angry drag queen opened the door of the vehicle and beat the shit out of my attempted rapist. She and her other drag friends helped dress and care for me while the police arrived. I was saved by a group of guardian drag queens. They were basically the modern day ‘angels from heaven.’

sexual-phan:

hunter-avenger-consulter-grimm:

jawnn-locked:

visiovisusvidere:

sonicghost:

milesjai:

videk:

welcome-to-the-sinners-ball:

imgayitsok:

God bless drag queens.

I will always reblog this

Whenever drag queens are present, you best believe they will save the fuckin day.

Oh fuck yes.

image

If this isn’t on your blog I’m judging you.

Every time a bell rings, a drag queen gets his wings.

God bless drag queen omg

(Source: b-random)

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