Just An Experiment. Reblog If You Actually Give A Fuck About Male Victims Of Domestic Violence And Rape.

Just an experiment. Reblog if you actually give a fuck about male victims of domestic violence and rape.

Of fucking course

What sick bastard doesn’t

Reblog if you think a woman can be complete without children

Y’ALL HAVE TIME TO REBLOG THIS. IT TAKES LESS THAN FIVE SECONDS.

Hayashida please teach me how to draw buff women like you do

Funniest shit I've ever read 😂😂😂😂😂😂

Soap reclined against the back of the metal wall of the plane, eyes dragging from each member of the team until they landed on her. She, oddly enough wasn’t sitting like the others were, contemplating the mission and the risks. In her hands was a small book, about the size of a cigarette holder, perhaps a religious book, but he’d never known her to pray or be religious outright; then again, she wasn’t very open about many things of herself either.

Her eyes drew along the pages, quietly turning them, occasionally shifting with the movement of the plane and he heard lowly, “Keep staring at her like that and she’ll think you like her.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes and merely retorted, “Would that be such a bad thing, Lt.?”

Ghost chuckled. “She’ll eat your heart out, Soap.”

“If it’s her, that doesn’t sound like a bad way to go.” He shifted his foot and tapped along the ground, loud enough for her to cock an eyebrow to acknowledge the motion. “Whatcha reading?”

She flipped a page. “A book detailing the capture, trials, and deaths of women during the Salem Witch Trials.”

Soap blinked, eyebrows furrowing together. “…Why?”

“She’s tryna figure out why they didn’t catch her back then,” Ghost chirped and her eyes rose from the page to meet his, knowing he was smirking behind that stupid mask of his.

“Don’t take the bait,” Price muttered beside her, arms crossed over his chest, and she was almost prepared to let it go. But, she also remembered that Ghost ate the last of her chocolate chip poptarts before they left.

She went back to her book and rattled off, “Ghost can’t play golf. We went to a putt-putt one time and I’ve never seen a man so competent in the art of war be so terrible at hitting a ball.”

Ghost spluttered as Soap snickered.

“He snores like an old dog and drools in his sleep.” She flipped another page. “One time we were on a mission in Baghdad, and he wasn’t paying attention and ran into a wall. Broke his radio from the impact.”

“I did not,” Ghost hissed.

“He cried watching Where The Red Fern Grows.”

“WHO WOULDN’T?!” he snapped. “SHE DIES OF A BROKEN HEART AFTER HER BROTHER!”

“One time he ate a box of fiber bars to recover from a hangover and he shit himself in the middle of the store.”

“Alright! I get it! I’m sorry!” he griped and she smiled to herself as she quieted down and went back to her book.

For a few moments, silence enveloped the group in the plane, then Soap asked, “Did you really shit yourself?”

“Shut. Up.”

Every night you dream that you talk to a genie, when you wake up you can't remember what you wished for. One morning you wake up with a giant crab pincer replacing your right arm. What do you do?

I would become a ridiculous vigilante that goes after people who sexually harass others and use my crab pincer to pinch off whatever body part they cherish most.

rb if ur mutuals an followers can infodump in ur inbox, even if they won't answer the ask