Rise Up, Oh Heart, For There is Another Battle to Win
Month
imagine if black women were silent and passive about the shit black men face like imagine if we did as little for them as they do for us lmao like we’d still be slaves tbh
this tea is piping hot
all these fuckboys but who is the fuckfather
idk why introverts have a reputation of being quiet and shy people who’d rather be alone. have you ever been friends with an introvert who’s decided you’re worth their time? we turn into the clingiest, most needy pieces of shit on the planet because there’s so few people we actually can stand
That’s exactly what all the people should know.
once i saw a post complaining about harry/ginny because they thought it was the overdone star football player/head cheerleader cliche and i laughed so hard like let’s be real if anyone is the cheerleader in this relationship it’s harry
You know when a fast angry song comes on that you know every word to and you’re in just the right mood that your eyes light up with the fire and angst of a thousand punk rockers and you just feel so alive
all my OTPs sittin’ in a tree
HO-MO-SEXU-ALITY
first comes love
then comes marriage
thanks obama
you’re welcome.
Synonyms are weird because if you invite someone to your cottage in the forest that just sounds nice and cozy, but if I invite you to my cabin in the woods you’re going to die.
phils-mum-and-llama-placentas:
I HEAR THOSE SLEIGH BELLS JINGLING
RING TING TINGLING TOOOOOOOOOOOOO
COME ON IT’S LOVELY WEATHER
FOR A SLEIGH RIDE TOGETHER WITH YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU
IT’S STARTED
IT’S AUGUST YOU MANIACS
someone’s getting coal this year
IT’S FUCKING SEPTEMBER WHO BROUGHT IT BACK
OMG it’s too early for this
this is my favorite thing
why are bras and period products so fucking expensive okay this shit pisses me off, it’s not like i asked for boobs or for my vagina to destroy itself every month
Edward was only 12 when he became a state alchemist, what are you doing with your life
well I have both arms so I think I’m doing pretty good
and my sibling remains in their own body so that’s a plus for me
I’m tall
my mom isn’t dead
My dad lives with me
my house remains unburnt and intact
this is a post for every person w gender issues ever
- one day you’ll find the pronouns and name and clothing and niche that fits u comfortably
- until then,and whether you have or haven’t, you’re a lovely lovely person and you deserve happiness
- there’s nothing wrong with you
- and nothin’ wrong with experimenting
- and nothing wrong with changing your mind
- and people love u
- and u love people
- and i hope the world is good to you because you deserve it
Gwen Sharp
(via cclbaldwin)
a guy at school today was wearing this damn fine red nail polish and I heard these two girls whispering angrily and looking in his direction so I listened in expecting them to be weird about it and the first thing I hear is “how the HELL did he get it so good did he get it professionally done or something you need to ask him where he found that colour jesus fucking christ are you KIDDING me”
I think this is a good example of how the world should work.
As a bisexual, it sickens me that some people WILL keep scrolling.
As the straight daughter of a gay man, it sickens me that some people will keep scrolling.
As a straight girl with a basic understanding of equality and love, it also sickens me that people will keep scrolling.
As a straight Christian woman, I pray that people will not scroll past this. Love, not judge.
I’m re-reblogging for that last one.
oh god.
The pacer is a test in gym class/PE that brings a shiver of despair down the spine of any unfortunate soul who has gone through it before. And it’s usually done at least once a year.
Students line up on one side of the gym, eyeing nervously the painted line before the opposite wall that will decide their fate. The teacher hits play on the stereo and a cheery woman’s voice echoes through the gymnasium. fuck that woman’s happy demeanor. She explains the rules as the kids wait anxiously. Get to the other line before the beep plays. Simple enough, right?
“Ready? Begin!” she calls, and the gut wrenching ‘beep!’ plays after.
The kids awkwardly half jog to the other line, with about 3 or 4 seconds before the next beep. Each time the horrendous noise plays they run back and forth to the lines. “Level one, complete” she says, as to pat you on the back for what little victory you’ve achieved.
Not bad, the kids think. But then comes level 2. level 3. With each interval the time between the beeps shorten, and you’re running as fast as you can to the other line. Your foot hits it, you pivot, the beep plays, youre running again. Your lungs burn, your throat is sore, your heart is on the verge of an attack. No rest. No mercy.
A girl is the first to crawl over to the instructor, defeated. Seeing one has fallen, other students begin to follow since “at least theyre not the first ones out”. Clutching their chests they bail out of the test. One girls crying. You can’t tell if the boy on the gym floor is alive or not. Three kids left for the water fountain and still havent made it back.
And then, the fallen sit there, watching the myths, the legends, the kids who have made it past 100 laps. 120. 150. When they finally collapse a cheer erupts from the students. Theyre heroes.
But the excitement only lasts for so long as the next round of nervous kids line up, who opted to go in the second wave and prolong their torture. The womans voice kicks back up. The beep plays. The cycle continues.
