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Christina, England, watches (and cries over) too many TV shows, films, books, and music DON'T GET ME STARTED ON HARRY POTTER (and by that I mean come and talk to me about it)

x

twinkletwinkleyoulittlefuck:

cell-mate:

crackerhell:

ethanwearsprada:

i think it’s a universal truth that everyone in our generation takes pluto’s losing its planetary status as a personal offense

yes

pluto is smaller than russia. why did we ever even consider it a planet?

BECAUSE IT’S A PART OF OUR SOLAR SYSTEM

OHANA MEANS FAMILY

FAMILY MEANS NO ONE IS LEFT BEHIND

funny-text-posts:

Part 2 of my favourite text posts

"Remember who you are. Remember our words"

swlft:

if the lyrics “but now i’ll go sit on the floor wearing your clothes / all that i know is i don’t know / how to be something you miss” don’t punch you in the heart and make you feel a deep kind of sad then u are not a real person

lesroisdumonde:

Sometimes I’m a loud queer girl and sometimes I’m an awkward queer boy

thefingerfuckingfemalefury:

shootingstarsafterdark:

ChaosLife - Homo Hint

With comments too great not to include. You should check the heck out of that webcomic series either way 8D

The comments on this are every bit as fabulous as the actual comic :D

timeturner:

tiny ginny weasley, growing up with six brothers, deathly afraid of being branded “girly”, because “girly” from the sneering mouths of fred and george meant weak, inadequate, pathetic

ginny weasley at eight years old, sick of her hair flowing down to her bottom, sick of tying it into plaits and pigtails, grabbing a pair of scissors and chopping it all off with messy hacks - then molly was gasping, snatching the scissors from her grasp, yelling at her and mourning her “beautiful, beautiful” hair

ginny weasley at twelve years old, fresh from the horrors of her first year and accepting her dorm-mate’s mascara. after everything that happened, she’s trying to make friends, and her dorm-mates are trying too. so she takes the mascara wand and, for the first time, applies it. it’s clumpy and uneven but her dorm-mates help her perfect it - it’s girly and feminine and against everything she’s ever stood for, against the reputation she had built at the burrow, but she kind of likes the dark weight on her eyelashes

ginny weasley slowly recognising and destroying her internalised misogyny as she progresses through hogwarts - ginny weasley embracing makeup and quidditch in equal measures, ginny weasley burping the alphabet and squeezing into the tiniest of skirts, ginny weasley being stark and cold and fearsome as well as giggly and sweet and flirty. ginny weasley standing up for the tomboys of hogwarts as well as the girliest of girls. don’t fuck with girl-power ginny weasley or you’ll be bat-bogey hexed into next week.

peanutbutterandsquats:

lilyredneck:

dut-dut-goose:

queenofferrets:

juzanotherblog:

new bra from victoria secret! :) 

A woman stands in her bedroom. She is with her attractive male lover. The air is filled with desire. They both look into each other’s eyes. The female, with a slightly bashful smile, takes off her clothes, starting with the pants first, and finally the shirt. She is wearing the bra. The man’s eyes opened wider in interest. His interest is peaked. The woman strutted closer to him, her eyes batting and her smile growing. She leans into his ear and with a breathy voice, she spoke:

“Lettuce fuck.” 

I graduate in three days, I pay my own bills, I have a car, and I’m reading fanfiction about a lettuce bra.

It has a little lettuce bow.

I’ve been laughing for 7 minutes oh my god

· lettuce · ??? ·

daddykinkcapaldi:

decibelsandpaperbacks:

This week on Tumblr:

It’s a metaphor. You’re a metaphor. I’m a metaphor. Your keybord is a metaphor. Everything is a metaphor. The universe is turning into one giant metaphor on a molecular scale. Run. It’s too late.

hail hydra

alittleworldofimagination:

jokerkat:

quincy360:

you know that unexplainable sickish feeling where youre not really sick and you dont really have a headache but you just feel wrong and you cant get comfortable or find something that youre really into but you kinda feel too ill to sleep or eat its like your body saying “i dont know what i want you to do but this isnt it”

That’s called anxiety.

That explains at least half of my life then

Ten Women I Have Been Warned Against Becoming:

1. The Girl Who Takes Up Too Much Space, always, her shoulders too wide in stairwells, her hips too big in doorways, her voice too loud in classes. This woman does not understand the art of crumbling, of curling herself tight like the spiral of a fern, soft, delicate, unwilling to reach out the ivy of her fingers to grasp onto what should rightfully be hers. This is a beast, an elephant, a moving mountain and she is capable of flattening you, she is capable of ruining you, she is capable of making you feel as small and insignificant in her life as she is supposed to be. You are this woman’s footnote to history, you are her side note in song lyrics, you are constantly interrupted by her with a witty joke you wish you thought of. I asked what the problem was with being a steamroller instead of a sunflower and I was laughed down.

2. The Beautiful One, the long hair or the slim waist or the pretty eyes or the lips like bowstrings. This woman looks good in everything because she’s confident in whatever you put her in. She’ll cut her hair short on you no matter how you like it, she’ll wear high heels and step on your opinions, she’ll look hot as hell no matter what size she is. See, the reason you can’t trust her is because women like this don’t need your permission, they’ll do as they please and get away with it. They’ll say no to you, over and over. Teach your daughters that beautiful means dangerous, teach them to distrust women who love themselves. Equate beautiful with vapid, equate pretty with stupid, take their power from them. Say they’re vain for their makeup, refuse to see them without it. These women are snakes, they are serpents. I said maybe the problem lies with you being unable to control yourself and was told to get off my pedestal.

3. A Bitch. Women are supposed to be ladies in the street but will tear skin under sheets. I’m told: Never raise your voice. Speak gently. Submit. Hold your opinion against your lips and when you admit to it, make sure it comes out as a butterfly wing suggestion. Don’t disagree. Don’t undermine someone else’s authority, regardless of whether or not they deserve your respect. Someone touches you, just move away from them. Don’t hit. Don’t talk back. Be like the ruins of Rome, only beautiful if you can’t hear your quiet death.

4. The Needy One. I have heard how others spit when they talk about how she gave you everything and you shoved it back down her throat until she choked on it, until she came back crawling and asked you what she did, until her palms and knees were scraped for want of just a little affection - never be this woman, I’m told, because she’s a joke and the joke is that she dared to have more emotion than you did. The truth is, I’m told, the one who cares less in a partnership is the one who wins. I didn’t know this was a competition.

5. The Cock Tease, certified stripper, how dare that girl look like that and not want me to sleep with her. Lust is always personified as a lady in red with a dress slit up her thigh. Lust is sinful because it’s power, it’s not asking for attention - it’s demanding it. I’m told she is the worst kind of woman, that looking good is supposed to be some kind of shame on her kin. I’m told not to leave the house in such a short skirt, not with a shirt so low, not with a lace back, not with high heels, not dressed like that. My lipstick can’t be too red, my hair can’t be too mussed, I can’t just “turn someone on like that and then leave them wanting.” I mentioned that instant gratification actually ruins our psyche and was told that being led on was “exhausting.” I said that there was a difference between purposefully tricking someone into liking you and just being attractive or friendly. I was told there’s also a difference between coffee and tea but both result in caffeine. I said, “I’ve been turned on in class by the girls I talk to but I didn’t expect anything from them,” and they said, “It’s different, you’re not a man,” but couldn’t explain where that difference was.

6. A Slut, obviously ruined by another person’s touch. It doesn’t matter how many people she’s actually been with, it’s all about the rumors she carries with her. Easy. Harlot. You’ll still try to get with her, you’ll still take her into your bed and kiss her and say things you don’t mean - but you’ll defame her name when you talk to your buddies. My father used to say “A slut is fine for the night, but the virgin is who you take home and marry.” Maybe he didn’t know he was teaching his daughter to hate her sexuality. Maybe he didn’t know that every time she’d be kissed, her whole system would shake until she felt ready to combust, shame and self-hatred shivering against her spine. Maybe he didn’t know she’d disconnect emotions and sex because he always told her, “Boys are different, they won’t care about you.” Nobody said to her that it was okay to experiment. See, the funny thing is, I’m a dancer so I know exactly where my center of gravity is. I know how hard I’ll fall in each direction. Yet out of fear of getting hurt, I won’t let a single person inside of my bed.

7. The Soulmate. Never love romance more than you love being cynical. Never show weakness, never like pink, never think maybe you might find someone nice and settle down with them. Someone will find you, I was told, And if you’re lucky, he’ll put up with you when you start getting old. Never be the woman who believes in happily ever after, never be dumb enough to think maybe someone could love you after all of your mistakes. It has nothing to do with whether or not a family is important to you and you’re in a good place where a relationship would make your life better - you’re not a princess. You don’t get married, you settle.

8. The Girl With Strength, who can outrun everyone and who is stronger than her boyfriend. “See the thing about boys,” says my daddy, “Is that you have to let them win.” I sat at home and read stories about Artemis and wanted to become the huntress, too. I wanted to howl at the moon, I wanted to slay the beasts that bested me, I wanted to rule my kingdom with bloody fists. But girls are never athletes, never supposed to be “built,” regardless of the fact civilizations were constructed on our spines and we made homes in war by the steel of our ribs. Never be strong. We are supposed to wilt.

9. The Lady CEO: because if you choose work over family, are you really a girl? How dare you fight your way to the top through every pair of eyes that bore through your blouse, through every meeting where you were hushed by the sound of someone else talking, through every time someone called you “sweetie,” how dare you yearn for something. Is your husband the stay-at-home one? I can’t imagine how that is going. He’s not a real man, after all. I don’t give it long before the divorce. How dare you decide you’re happy being single. Don’t you know you’re supposed to bear children. Where is your honor? Where is your wisdom? Who cares if you are the leader, the best suited for your position, the quickest-thinking, the one who makes the hardest clients come back again. Don’t you see? Across history, women have been terrible at success. They always lose their man in the end. (When I said, “I would rather be a famous author than a mediocre mother,” I was told, “No, don’t worry, you’ll be a fine mommy.”)

10. THE GIRL I AM: FIRECRACKER AND DON’T YOU FUCKING FORGET IT I’LL RIP YOU TO SHREDS AND I WON’T FUCKING REGRET IT I’M NOT YOUR PRETTY GIRL I’M NOT YOUR ANYTHING I’M PERFECT, MOTHERFUCKER, AND I’M NOT GOING TO GIVE UP WHAT I’M DOING. I DON’T WANT TO BE “LADYLIKE” THAT LITERALLY MEANS NOTHING I’M NOT GOING TO STOP STANDING UP AND DEMANDING WHAT’S COMING TO ME. I’M GONNA BE SOMEBODY. I’M GONNA MAKE THEM REMEMBER ME. I REFUSE TO BE OVERSHADOWED IN HISTORY. I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU WERE TRYING TO CREATE BUT YOU MADE ME A DRAGON YOU PUT ME IN THE FIRE AND WHEN I STOPPED BURNING I LEARNED HOW TO GLOW DON’T THINK YOU CAN STOP ME YOU CAN’T TAME A TORNADO.

- In respectful response to a poem tilted, “Ten men women have warned me against becoming." /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)

· poem · poetry · YES ·

there was a body. you said it was erica. she’s not dead.

Tomorrow is a) Easter Sunday b) Hilter’s Birthday and c) 4/20

viwan themes