a 30 y/o drunk man came up to me in a nightclub the other night and said “the economy might be shit but at least we have niall horan” 

i’m having trouble believing this

i live in ireland the only thing irish men love more than themselves is niall horan 

(Source: grlband, via ccaitlyn)



do people realize how romantic this really is? 

I would cry

(Source: bongworship, via sarahrobertsss)


This one wins

(Source: elementofcrime, via karajaynetoday)

An Abduction Survivor On The Jill Meagher Murder

Lesson #1: Life Is Short. Don’t Be A Tightarse. Get a fucking taxi, ladies. Put it on your credit card. Borrow a twenty from a mate. In hindsight, if I hadn’t been such a pov bastard I wouldn’t have needed to be treated for PTSS by an expensive mental health professional. Cabs are cheaper than fixing a busted personality. No offense, Me.

Here I should probably mention Lesson #2: Accept A Lift From Friends, No Matter How Insincere The Offer. Apparently some friends had offered Jill Meagher a ride home the night she was murdered - an offer that she declined. She lived within walking distance and had walked home from the area a million times before - so why make friends go out of their way? I’m going to be presumptuous and say that every single one of you has on one occasion or another declined a ride home for the exact same reason. This morning on a breakfast television show a talking head speculated on how the friends who had offered Meagher a ride would be feeling and it made me sick for them. Remember this next time you’re in this position; your friends will be far more inconvenienced if something terrible happens to you than by the petrol it took to get you home.

I was a small shickered teenage girl wobbling home when about 1,500 metres from my destination a person pulled me into a car. It took about 30 seconds to realise that I was actually in the backseat of a completely unfamiliar car with two men I had never seen before in my life. That sobered me up pretty quickly, and when the car started heading toward the bushland on Brisbane’s Mount Coot-tha I realised I was probably going to be at least raped, if not hurt or killed.

At this point I was starting to ruminate about how deep in the bush I’d be buried and whether police would ever find my body and about how incredibly sad and beautiful my funeral would be. Typical narcissistic teenager. Luckily, the other distinctly teenage quality I possessed was pathological dishonesty.

Lesson #3: Say Anything That Might Help You Escape.

I started to really panic when I knew they were taking me into the bushland. I told them I needed to pee, was really busting and that they could hold me so I couldn’t escape and that if I wet my pants my DNA would be all over the car. That worked and it’s the reason I got away. I’ve heard stories about women who have avoided getting raped because they told the attacker that they were HIV-positive. Keep that one in your back pocket. No one wants to have sex with someone with an infectious incurable disease, and they probably will avoid anything that might make you bleed a lot too. That attitude is pragmatic to the point of being insensitive, but if it can save a woman from getting violently assaulted then it’s something you should know.

Lesson #4: Assess Your Weapons. An efficiently wielded high heeled shoe can properly fuck someone up. Keys can break the skin. Handbags and purses can be swung from a distance. A jumper and shirt sleeve can probably strangle someone. If you are ever in this kind of danger you need to use what you have on your person to cause whomever is attacking you enough pain so you can make a break for it.

I was pulled out of the car by the man in the passenger seat and he held onto my arm while I pretended to urinate thinking about the time my cousin Sam told me about the best way to attack a person when I was about 12 (FYI he told me because I did years of ballet and could do the splits between two chairs like Jean Claude Van Damme and he thought I would make a good ultimate fighter. Seriously.)

Lesson #5: Know Attack Points. Eyes. Throat. Groin. Always aim to inflict pain on those parts of the body of your attacker because they will do the most damage. That’s what Sam told me. And I remembered it when I got out of a crouching position and swung my bag into that man’s head, and when he kind of landed on top of me I rammed my knee up into his groin and stabbed my hands at his eyes and throat. He let me go because I’d really got him in the balls, and I scampered into a standing position and ran toward the street.

Lesson #6: Run. My shoes had come off at some point and the place the car stopped for my toilet break was a dirt carpark, but I can’t remembering feeling anything when I sprinted across the rocks into the middle of the nearest street, where I stood under the brightest light I could see, and screamed and waved at the cars going past. It took about five cars for someone to stop and help - which I can understand. I was shoeless and screaming which is a look usually attributed to escaped mental patients in movies.

Lesson #7: Look After Each Other. Just look after each other and be aware that there are some fucked up people in the world who might want to hurt you for no reason. You can’t let that stop you from living your life. Just be conscious of it, and always always look after your friends.

My thoughts are with the family, friends and loved ones of Ms Meagher, and anyone else effected by this tragedy. The best thing you can do if you ever experience or are witness to an unprovoked attack or abduction attempt is reporting it to the police immediately.

Do whatever you have to do to be safe and do whatever you have to do so that you don’t feel helpless. “


1,001 plays


Short Skirt, Long Jacket »  Cake

With fingernails that shine like justice
And a voice that is dark like tinted glass

(via idontcareforgob)


Emma Watson’s speech at the UN, promoting “He for She.”


i like how his mom is immediately on his side and about to getaway car them off 

(Source: mileysblackfriend, via dolcepompeii)

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