Zoë Kravitz as Rob in High Fidelity (2020) dir. Jesse Peretz
Reblog if you support asexuals and aren’t a COWARD
RB if your blog is a safe, accepting space for asexuals!
lalalalivy
If you can’t reblog this, then you should unfollow me.
I made a Disaster Bi pride flag.
Finally. A flag perfect for me.
Elspeth Beard, shortly after becoming the first Englishwoman to circumnavigate the world by motorcycle. Her journey took 3 years and covered 48,000 miles.
thecringeandwincefactory
Uh, just as a warning to anyone out there attracted to women: the other photos of her that exist are at least equally as hot, which is fucking terrifying.
This woman could ride up to me, take of the helmet and dramatically shake out her hair, and ask me to leave my life behind to run away adventuring with her
She is also an architect who lives in a Victorian water tower, and a more recent photo (still with a bike!) shows that at about 60 years old she is *still* just as beautiful.
while-i-breathe-i-hope
She really is super cool. I have read articles about her for a while.
Wow.
respectfulmemes
Me: *Catches myself being judgmental* Me to Me: I did not raise u this way
butchtj-deactivated20190316
Do any other american high schoolers have intense survivor’s guilt and trauma with school shootings even though they weren’t at your school?
butchtj
Like. A laser tag place opened geared towards teenagers and it got no business, we tried to enjoy it but when someone pointed a laser machine gun at me and I instinctively dropped behind the nearest wall and reached to turn off my phone I cried, I wasn’t the only one. The announcements system turns on at an unexpected time and everyone holds their breath until they say something besides “locks, lights, out of sight,” nobody even jokingly pops chip bags anymore, a door slammed really loud during a class change and everyone dropped and ran. Everyone cries during drills, even the toughest ranch kids. Every drill comes with a full day of teachers crying and telling us that they love us all so much and will die for us, and every kid in every class looking around wondering who would I die for? Who would die for me? You walk to the bathroom and wonder every second if it happens right now, where will I go? You test supply closet doors to see which ones are unlocked, you memorize which furniture in the teachers’ lounge your English teacher says is light enough to barricade a door with. The fire alarm goes off and nobody moves, instead you wait for gunshots—it a trap? You stand with a group of freshmen and realize that you’re the oldest, you know you’ll have to die for them. You forget your ID tag and worry that now the police won’t be able to tell your parents if you’re safe, or not safe. Your stats teacher has a baseball bat by the door, your math teacher keeps a stapler under each desk to throw, your drama teacher asks who will be willing to stand by the non-locking door with the Shakespearean swords. Your yearbook teacher tells you don’t worry about breaking a camera because you heard about the kids who died holding them. You don’t use the bathroom during classes because you don’t want to be the only target to shoot at. You keep your phone on silent 24/7 because you worry the one time you forget will be when you get your whole US History class killed. You have a snap saved with your class schedule and school and full name to send in an instant to your internet friends so they know if you were on that wing, you have a note saved with the things you want your mom to know and the things you’re sorry for. At the age of 12 I was told I needed to know who I would die for and that it was okay if it was nobody, that was my decision to make. School shootings control us more than adults and non-Americans could possibly imagine and nobody moves to change anything unless we’re actively screaming for it. Have you considered we’re too scared?
The absolute fuck. The fuck did I just read. This sounds like dystopian fiction. The fucking fuck.
It isn’t. This is 100% the reality of all American children - not the ones that live in bad neighborhoods, not the ones that make bad choices, ALL OF THEM.
Welcome to America.
This reminds me of a discussion we had in one of my classes the other day-
My professor was describing how everyone from her generation had the same nightmare of a nuke going off. In they dream they all saw the same mushroom cloud and everything. She said that she didn’t think my generation had a dream like that; one that everyone shared and had
For a while none of us could disagree with her. Until this popped up. I raised my hand and mentioned that everyone I knew had an active shooter dream at one point or another. And Every. Single. Person. Nodded. All of us had that dream. All of us.
Pretty telling, huh?
The mere notion that highschool children might have survivor’s guilt is sickening
“I’d cross every line for him. I’m in love with him.”
Reminder that fanfic as a whole humanizes queer relationships more than almost any other form of storytelling out there, and it is not dirty or inherently fetishizing to enjoy it✌🏼
Additional reminder that fanfic has been a gateway for literally thousands of people to realize and explore their own sexuality in a place that is safer and more understanding than most offline spaces. It has allowed people to realize they are trans, ace, gay, not gay, pan, bi, demi, nonbinary. It has been a place of support for queer people since before a good percentage of fandom was born. And saying who gets to enjoy what part of fandom in which way is completely antithetical to the whole point of fanfic.
griffinmcelroyspisskink-remade
i wonder how many “hey guys are super hot no homo tho hahaha” type guys would identify as bisexual if male bisexuality was talked about more often and not like… ignored and forgotten about
I had a strongly Christian underclassman tell me that he and his girlfriend would both be a bit into boys and girls, respectively, if it was more accepted. He nervously described himself as bicurious when he spoke to me, an openly bi guy. I was thinking out loud and mentioned that I thought that being bicurious… wasn’t necessarily a thing, for lack of a better phrase, because if someone was attracted to the same gender, even if they’re attracted more to another one, they’re still bi. He kind of looked surprised and said, “oh. I guess I’m bi then.”
Let men and boys be bi. Encourage men and boys to explore their sexualities. Don’t tell them off for being affectionate, whether platonically or not, and don’t insist that they’re gay.
Number 12 Grimmauld Place is no longer hidden. It sits neatly between Number 11 and Number 13, its wrought iron polished and shiny, its windows clean of dust and grime. Muggles can see it, though they rarely give it more than a moment’s glance; wizards and witches will occasionally approach cautiously to lay down a wreath of flowers, or a handwritten note addressed to The Boy Who Lives Still. Their wary respect is well-intentioned but unnecessary- Number 12 is second only to Hogwarts in the number of protective spells and wards place around it.
It is empty most of the year.
Fall winds blow and disturb no one’s slumber inside. In winter, snow gathers on the steps and railings; the windows remain dark and the curtains drawn. No flowers peek out from the windowsills to celebrate the arrival of spring.
In the summer, they arrive.
From the outside, there is nothing to unite them. There are loud, boisterous teenagers and shy, quiet children no older than twelve; there are some dressed in the latest Muggle fashions and some whose jeans are patched and worn. They are of all races and ethnicities, all shapes and sizes, from all parts of the British Isles; they can be heard chattering in accents that clash and meld and somehow become harmonious. From the outside, they have nothing in common. But since when has someone’s outside reflected who they really are?
Molly Weasley was the first person Harry told about his idea. She and Arthur help him expand Number 12′s interior, adding bathrooms and reading nooks and bedrooms. Ginny chooses the squashiest armchairs and sturdiest furniture, tracking down bargains with a fierce glint in her eyes. When he realizes he needs an outdoor space, Hermione helps him to link his back door to an empty field. Ron helps Bill put up Quidditch hoops while Neville transplants trees and Hannah stations benches beneath their shady branches. Parvati paints the rooms in swirls of bright colors- green and red and blue and yellow mingle on the walls.
In the summer, Number 12 Grimmauld Place becomes a refuge for lost children. They are the ones with no home to go to when the term ends, the ones who don’t have someone waiting to pick them up when the Hogwarts Express pulls into Platform 9 ¾. They are the ones whose homes are not safe, who grow anxious as June approaches and spring turns to summer. They are the ones who are no longer welcomed by those who share their blood, who have had to make family out of friends.
Harry Potter greets these students at Kings Cross and he takes them in.
In the summer, former DA members stream in and out of Number 12′s brightly polished door. Luna brings suitcases packed with odd creatures she’s discovered on her travels; the students sit in the sunny field as she pulls them out one by one and tells of hiking up mountains and wading through marshes. Ginny gives flying lessons and organizes Quidditch matches; the Harpies donate their old brooms when they switch sponsors (something that happens far more often than any other team in the league). There is a greenhouse where students with a green thumb can tend their own plots and assist Neville with his herbology experiments. Justin and Hermione drill them on Muggle subjects; Justin teaches algebra, geometry, and basic sciences while Hermione covers history and literature. George always spends a memorable week showing off his newest inventions while Ron drops by almost every evening to play chess. Students entering their fifth year can spend the summer shadowing people in careers that pique their interest; the Trio rarely use their fame for their own gain, but they wield it with fierce determination in the service of others.
In the summer, these children are fed by Molly Weasley, hugged by Hannah Abbott, told bedtime stories by Luna Lovegood. They can spend all day reading under a tree or playing Exploding Snap in the kitchen or arguing about how best to make a phone work at Hogwarts. They can wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and make their way down to the kitchen, where Harry will meet them with a mug of hot tea and a listening ear. They can stay in bed on days when the world is too cruel and lonely, when the emptiness in their body is too heavy to bear. They can see others who struggle with it too and realize that family is not limited by blood, that being lonely doesn’t always mean being alone.
In the summer, Number 12 Grimmauld Place opens its doors wide and vibrates with life. It becomes a place where Sirius Black would be welcomed along with Severus Snape, where Harry Potter and Tom Riddle could spend their summers side by side.
In the summer, Number 12 Grimmauld Place becomes a home.
After many months of being squashed by the stresses of my last year of graduate school, my muse has come roaring back with a vengeance. No promises on when the next update will be, but I hope you enjoy this piece
Museum date???? Coffee shop date???? Art gallery date???? Walk in the park date???? Late night walk date???? Nap time date???
congrats :) what a finale to pride month, phil !! (ily)
rogertaylor-stole-my-heart
1 second of multiple Queen moments
“Everything’s a dildo if you’re brave enough.”
— My new favorite quote courtesy of Alex Vause.
Experiment
I’m doing a type of experiment
My brother keeps telling me aro/ace people aren’t real and that they don’t exist.
Reblog or like this if you ARE aro/ace or you support them
