Rise Up, Oh Heart, For There is Another Battle to Win

Aug 29

shitsquiettime:
I think it’s hilarious when people are talking about height differences in ships and they think it’s all sunshine and rainbows, but as a friend and I were just discussing: I am tiny (at only about 5'2") while my husband is tall (6'3") and built like a house. I know what it’s like to be in a relationship like this, so please consider:
*The tiny one trying to reach something on the top shelf and the big one coming by to scoop them up and lift them with one hand so they can reach it.
*The big one has a bigger vehicle so they can stretch their legs out and the tiny one has to run and hop into it
*The big one can’t get their shoulders through a doorway and gets stuck like twice while the tiny one just slips through and laughs at them
*(my husband does this to me every so often) the tiny one caught in an uncomfortable conversation so the tall one just comes over and picks them up, puts them on their hip like a toddler, and carries them away.
*The tiny one is the scary one
*The big one is a big softie and a nerd and he just loves the tiny sarcastic one to bits
*The tiny one let’s the big one rest on them every now and then but careful don’t smoosh them
*The big one carrying the tiny one away from an argument over their shoulder
*The tiny one will fucking fight you don’t fuck with their massive teddy bear don’t get stabbed hoe
I got more. So so much more.
SCREAMS
I NEED THESE

(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)

FUCKING NASA

overlyobsessedfanqueen:

I’m fucking pissing myself.
You know how all of Jupiter’s moons are named after his lovers and affairs?
Yeah. NASA is sending a craft to check up on Jupiter.
You know what the craft is called?
JUNO.
Who’s Juno?
JUPITER’S WIFE.
NASA IS SENDING JUPITER’S WIFE TO CHECK ON JUPITER AND HIS AFFAIRS AND LOVERS.
FUCKING NASA

(Source: saywhatnow07, via thepainofthesass)

ificouldbeheard:

vanehwasreal:
vanehwasreal:
i’ve always scoffed at those “oh my god europe is tiny”-posts but we just took the wrong exit driving back to our cabin and we literally ended up in norway and decided to just stay for dinner so yeah
this just happened AGAIN jesus fucking christ there isn’t even a sign that says welcome to fucking norway you’re just there all of a sudden
I could miss an exit and still stay in my state for another 8 hours.

(via thepainofthesass)

Bar Ettiquette

spaggel:

Not many of my followers know, but I’m a bartender and after this weekend (and for the last 5 years) I thought I’d make a quick a simple list of bar manners to mind.
If you use a lime after a shot do not stick your gross ass chewed up lime on the bar. Put it back into the shot glass, on a napkin or find a trash can for the love of god.
If you don’t want a straw in your drink, either say so when you order or put in on a napkin or throw it away. Again, do not stick it in your mouth, suck on it and leave your spit straw on the counter. Have you no manners?
Don’t yell. Use your manners.
I know it looks like I will never look into your beautiful, drink starved eyes, but I can see you even if I’m not looking at you. Trust me.
If I am not looking at you, I’m not taking your order. If I look at your eyes, that’s a sign that I’m ready to take your order. Which I am not, so don’t wave your hand in front of my face to make me look at you. I might forget what I’m doing an take even longer. You’re only hurting yourself.
If you are ordering multiple drinks, order them all at once. Not one at a time. You get your drinks faster and everyone around you can get served faster as well. It’s a win-win.
I don’t care what you drink, honestly. Like, drink a long island. Or a lemon drop. It makes my gut hurt because sugar. But I Don’t Care. And neither should you, so don’t make shitty comments the person next to you when they order.
Unless you’re putting red bull in grey goose. Save yourself some cash and just get well vodka.
I take it back, there was one time someone ordered a pint glass of half & half and a shot of malibu rum in it and I thought i was going to die.
If I ask you if you want a back/chaser for your shot I’m not questioning your masculinity or giving you a test. I just want to know. It’s easier to do it all at once.
I don’t know that one special drink at another bar, but tell me what you like about it and I’ll try to find you an alternative.
Please. Please don’t ask me to just pour you whatever. Especially when it’s busy. I have to hold back the urge to pour you a shot of grape pucker and call it a day.
If you ask me for a “girly” or “pussy” drink I will pour you fernet branca because I am both girly, in possession of a vagina and that’s all I drink. You’ll regret it.
If you order something gay I will pour you whiskey because that’s what all my gay male friends drink. They also drink fernet as well. It’s a toss up there.
In fact. I serve women, gay men/women and straight dudes all about the same when it comes to whiskey. It’s strange how gender and sexuality have nothing to do with the types of alcohol you drink.
The correct terminology you are looking for is “fruity” or “mixed”
Anyway. Someone once asked for both. After I responded with fernet to his “pussy” shot request, he ordered a “gay” shot.
So I told him I’d make him a gay shot called a dick in his mouth.
I did.
He told me it was “a little stiff”
I told him if there’s a dick in his mouth, you better hope it’s stiff.

(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)

trxye-and-txlly:

walkingbomb:
reminder to:
straighten your back
go pee goddAMN IT STOP HOLDING IT
go take your meds if you need to
drink some water
go get a snack if you havent eaten in a while
maybe wander around the house/stretch a little if you’ve been sat at the computer a while (artists especially: sTRETCH THOSE WRISTS)
reply to that text/message from earlier you’d forgotten about
maybe send a nice lil message to someone having a bad day?
I just would like to thank everyone who ever reblogs this so that it somehow ends up back on my dash because I usually need the reminder (especially the drinking water one)

(via lupinatic)

anxiouspineapples:

I highly recommend a reread because Harry is freaking hilarious. I mean, not always obviously, but he certainly has his moments. He has a very dry sort of humor and I just love that. Also, I trimmed it down, but sorry if it’s a bit long:
“They stuff people’s heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall,” he told Harry. “What to come upstairs and practice?” “No thanks,” said Harry, “The poor toilet’s never had anything as horrible as your head down it – it might be sick.”
The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in grey water. “What’s this?” he asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question. “Your new school uniform,” she said. Harry looked in the bowl again. “Oh,” he said, “I didn’t realize it had to be so wet.”
At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching towards the dungeon ceiling. “I don’t know,” said Harry quietly. “I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you try her?”
“You don’t use your eyes, any of you, do you?” she snapped. “Didn’t you see what it was standing on?” “The floor?” Harry suggested.
“Professor McGonagall told me about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?” “A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir,” said Harry, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy’s face. “And it’s really thanks to Malfoy here that I’ve got it.”
“I know what day it is,” Dudley repeated, coming right up to him.” “Well done,” said Harry. “So you’ve finally learned the days of the week.”
“Why’re you staring at the hedge?” he said suspiciously. “I’m trying to decide what would be the best spell to set it on fire,” said Harry.
He rolled down the window, the night air whipping his hair, and looked back at the shrinking rooftops of Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley were all hanging, dumbstruck, out of Harry’s window. “See you next summer!” Harry yelled.
“There you are! Where have you been? The most ridiculous rumors – someone said you’d been expelled for crashing a flying car!” “Well we haven’t been expelled,” Harry assured her.
“Oh no, not you,” he moaned. “Doesn’t know what he’s saying,” said Lockhart loudly to the anxious crowd of Gryffindors pressing around them. “Not to worry, Harry, I’m about to fix your am.” “No!” said Harry. “I’ll keep it like this thanks…”
Lockhart cuffed Harry merrily on the shoulder. “Just do what I did, Harry!” “What, drop my wand?”
“Are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year, Hermione?” asked Harry, while Ron sniggered. Hermione ignored them.
They swilled the dregs around as Professor Trelawney had instructed, then drained the cups and swapped over. “Right,” said Ron as they both opened their books at pages five and six. “What can you see in mine?” “A load of soggy brown stuff,” said Harry.
“That means you’re going to have ‘trials and suffering’ – sorry about that – but there’s a thing that could be the sun. Hang on… that means ‘great happiness’ … so you’re going to suffer but be very happy…”
“When you’ve all finished deciding whether I’m going to die or not!”
“It was your head, Potter. Floating in midair.” There was a long silence. “Maybe he’d better go to Madam Pomfrey,” said Harry. “If he’s seeing things like – “
“Potter! Weasley! Will you pay attention?” … The bell was due to ring any moment, and Harry and Ron, who had been having a sword fight with a couple of Fred and George’s fake wands at the back of the class, looked up, Ron holding a tin parrot and Harry, a rubber haddock.
“I’ll wait for you, Harry, shall I?” “No, it’s okay, Mr. Bagman,” said Harry, suppressing a smile, “I think I can find the castle on my own, thanks.”
“Listening to the news! Again?” “Well, it changes every day, you see,” said Harry.
“Yeah? Did he say you look like a pig that’s been taught to walk on its hind legs? ‘Cause that’s not cheek, Dud, that’s true…”
“I’ve left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry -” “They won’t.” “That you’re safe -” “That’ll just depress them.” “- and that you’ll see them next summer.” “Do I have to?”
“You’re Harry Potter,” she added. “I know I am,” said Harry.
“You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments.” “Yeah,” said Harry, “but you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone.”
“We shouldn’t have taken the stupid subject in the first place,” said Harry.“ “Still, at least we can give it up now.” “Yeah,” said Harry. “No more pretending we care what happens when Jupiter and Uranus get too friendly…”
“You’re dead, Potter.” Harry raised his eyebrows. “Funny,” he said, “you’d think I’d have stopped walking around.”
“I wouldn’t go in the kitchen just now,” she warned him. “There’s a lot of Phlegm around.” “I’ll be careful not to slip in it,” Harry smiled.
“Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?” “Yes,” said Harry stiffly. “Yes, sir.” “There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor.”
“No,” said Harry. “No, I suppose that’s true. But wasn’t that dishonest, Hermione? I mean, you’re a prefect, aren’t you?” “Oh, be quiet,” she snapped, as he smirked.
“My whole family are blood traitors! That’s as bad as Muggle-borns to Death Eaters!” “And they’d love to have me,” said Harry sarcastically “We’d be best pals if they didn’t keep trying to do me in.”
“She’ll ban you from the library if you’re not careful. Why did you have to bring that stupid book?” “It’s not my fault she’s barking mad, Hermione. Or d'you think she overheard you being rude about Filch? I’ve always thought there was something going on between them…”
“Nice,” he said. “Classy. You should definitely wear it in front of Fred and George.” “If you tell them,” said Ron, shoving the necklace out of sight under his pillow, “I - I - I’ll -” “Stutter at me?” said Harry, grinning. “Come on, would I?”
“Promise me you’ll look after yourself…. Stay out of trouble….” “I always do, Mrs. Weasley,” said Harry. “I like the quiet life, you know me.”
“I told her it’s a Hungarian Horntail,” said Ginny, turning a page of the newspaper idly. “Much more macho.” “Thanks,” said Harry, grinning. “And what did you tell her Ron’s got?” “A Pygmy Puff, but I didn’t say where.”
“Six years ter the day since we met, Harry, d'yeh remember it?” “Vaguely,” said Harry, grinning up at him. “Didn’t you smash down the front door, give Dudley a pig’s tail, and tell me I was a wizard?”

(via lupinatic)

10 Ways You Can Support Black Women

delafro:

1. Stop slandering our natural features. Stop with the dark skin jokes. Stop with the natural hair jokes. Stop dehumanizing black women for our features. Black women–especially young black girls–internalize these “jokes” and grow to sincerely hate their blackness. Cut it out.
2. Respect our choices. All of them. You don’t have to like it but you need to respect it. If we choose to wear our natural hair, respect it. If we choose to wear weave, respect it. Stop chastising us for the choices we make for ourselves. Stop policing how we choose to live our lives. Let us be great. Gahdamn.
3. Stop with the respectability politics. You can’t say you love black women and then pick and choose which black women you’ll respect based on your standards. You still give a black woman respect regardless of how she chooses to live her life. You respect all black women because we are human just like you, not just the ones who wear natural hair, listen to erykah badu and shit.
4. No means no. If you approach a black woman and she says she’s not interested, oh my fucking god, my nigga, just leave her alone. Move on. Let it go. Please do not persist. Take the rejection gracefully. Don’t call her out name, don’t follow her, don’t assault her. Let her be. She doesn’t owe you an explanation. Her “no” is enough and you will deal my friend.
5. LISTEN. Bruh, when black women are telling you something you’re doing is harming them, can you put your ego aside and just L I S T E N. Why is that your first reaction is to get defensive? If you love black women like you say you do, wouldn’t you want to know when you’re doing something harmful to them? Stop getting defensive every time a black woman calls out your misogynoir. Stop brushing that off as “bashing black men.” Stop calling black women “shea butter bitches” for calling out how you harm black women. Black women are just asking for empathy at the end of the day. That’s the least you can do.
6. Stop slut-shaming. Stop shaming black women for their sexuality. Stop calling black women “thots” and all kinds of hoes because her sex life is something YOU disagree with or because she presents herself in a way that conflicts with YOUR standards. Someone’s sexuality has nothing to do with you and you don’t have the right to police what a woman does with her body. Stop reducing a black woman’s worth because you don’t like what she does with HER body.
7. Understand that our identity intersects. Stop telling black women they have to “pick a side.” Black women aren’t black men or white women’s “side kicks.” We are our own people with our own unique struggle that, yes, may have similarities to BM’s and WW’s struggles, but is not identical to theirs. We are black and we are women. You can’t be an ally to black women and not be intersectional when our existence is the epitome of intersectionality. Black women don’t just experience racial violence, we experience gender violence as well. Stop insisting that we have to divide our identity down the middle to suit you.
8. Say something when you see black women being attacked. When you see black women being harassed online and offline, do something. Ya’ll gotta start holding each other accountable. Stop @-ing me telling me how terrible it is that I’m being attacked. @ ole dude who’s attacking me. Tell them to stop. Have my back. Intervene in the best possible way you can. Stop allowing the violence against black women to persist right in front of your eyes.
9. Please kill the “strong black woman” narrative. Placing this title on us constantly, denies us humanity. Black women aren’t allowed to be vulnerable like everyone else. We’re constantly told be strong or we’re written off as only angry and bitter. We’re told how we’re suppose to feel and how to respond to violence against us. Black women are humans. We laugh, we cry, we smile. We can’t be your idea of “strong” all the time.
10. Show up for black women. Black women consistently show up for everyone else but when it comes time for us, hardly anyone is there to be found. Police brutality doesn’t just happen to black men. Recognize it. Know the names of the many black female victims of state violence. Know their stories. Share their stories. Fight for them like you fight for Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, and Sean Bell. Fight for black women like black women fight for you. Organize and show up for black women. Stop leaving us hanging. Stop expecting our support and giving us little to none in return.

(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)

reblog if you’d rather have a golden retriever be president than donald trump

thesquirrelisonfire:

soupernatural0125:
seaofcheese:
my dog has more qualifications than donald trump will ever have
vote lily
Lily 2016
also better hair

(Source: matissechick, via adelindschade)

(Source: thebestoftumbl-r, via adelindschade)

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