*walks up to a gay couple* so which of you does the gay shit and which of you calls them gay

Cinderella’s dress, shoes, and hairband change color with your blog!!

This looks perfect on a white background. So pretty to see her dress being silver like it is in the film.

Wow cinderella looks good in macaroni. 

this is my favorite addition wow A+

my background is black

i was really excited about seeing this on my own blog and then i remembered my background is light blue :|

SHE LOOKS SO PRETTY IN GRAY

Oh my god! It works!

You have to reblog then tap/click on the picture to see her dress change color though. It does work!!

Nice

this is the only context i’ll allow country music bc this video is possibly the gayest and most romantic one i’ve seen in my eighteen years on this earth

watch every second of this

I just learned that some websites use cookies to adjust prices. That is, if you visit a certain website a lot the price will increase.

You can tell if that’s the case by checking the same web page on a different browser if you have a different number of stored cookies for that site. I checked something on Chegg and it was $14.95 on Chrome, $19.95 on Firefox, and $16.95 on Safari.

The fix? Clear your cookies for that website.

Reblog, save a wallet.

Plane tickets almost always do this!

PLANE TICKETS DO THIS ALL THE DAMN TIME 

When you’re looking for plane tickets and waiting for prices to drop, ALWAYS clear your cookies beforehand and switch between browsers. A friend of mine was looking for a flight and getting prices that were the CHEAPEST at $800-1000, I sent her a link for a round trip that was like $495, and it read as $900 on her computer because she had been hounding the airline site. 

alternatively: avoid all this headache by using incognito when shopping for plane tickets, text books, etc

Hotel rooms are notorious for this, as well. Just like, go on incognito mode to look at these sites, saves u a lot of time & hassle.

Bruh I ain’t never know dis thank you man

Cascade de Seljakandsfoss // By goodmornine

Rainy Day In Milford Sound // By Trey Ratcliff

Still my favourite video ever

Howdy!

Howdy!

Howdy!

Oh my god.

this is the woody chain of anti- pedophillia. every time you reblog this, a pedophile blog gets overtaken by the sheriff

@robot-dadd

thank you sheriff

People need to realize that there’s a difference between straight people and Straight People™

Straight person: Hey, you got a new haircut. Looks really good.

Straight Person™: No homo, but your haircut looks good on you.

In case you were confused 👌

Just like how there are white people who are gay and then there are the White Gays

White people who are gay: “I’m gay.”

White Gays: “I can’t believe I got accused of racism after calling that person a racial slur! I mean, I know what racism looks like because I’ve been discriminated for my sexuality. How is me being racist even possible? I’M GAY!”

Lmao all the angry White and Straight people in the comments, keep reblogging

neurotypical: i don’t have any mental illnesses or disorders Neurotypical™: Happiness is a choice!! ✨✨Have you tried yoga? Drink more water and eat kale ✨✨

cis person: i identify completely as my assigned gender Cis Person™: It doesn’t matter what you identify as, cause you still have Female Genitals! I’m not being offensive!! Read a book on Human Biology! 🚹🚺

men: I identify as male.

Men™: feminazis ruin everything, get back in the kitchen and make me a sandwich bitch

atheists: I don’t believe in god or identify with a religion

Atheists™: Don’t fucking talk to me if you believe in God. Open your closed-fucking-minds!! (usually targeted towards Christians)

nice guys: hey I know when not to invade someone’s space and I totally respect boundaries

Nice Guys™: IVE BEEN YOUR FRIEND FOR A MONTH AND NOW YOURE TELLING ME YOU DONT WANT TO FUCK ME ???? WHAT IS THE POINT OF WOMEN IF YOURE NOT HAVING SEX WITH ME?

this post got all kinds of better since I last saw it

This post is perfection across the board.

everybody you have ever met came out of a vagina screaming in fear

You can still get STD's with condoms on

HPV Syphilis Herpes

Just incase you didn’t know because most don’t 🗣

This. This. This. Omfg this.

lol I made this post months ago Funny how since Usher and his herpes comes to the light that’s when Majority of y'all started caring 🤦🏾‍♀️

To add onto this…. info from someone who screens for STDs: 1. Condoms protect against fluid 2. Anything skin to skin can be contracted 3. A new form of Gonorhea has developed that is resistant to antibiotics 4. If you have unprotected sex and get BV or a yeast infection it is because your vaginal pH does not mix well with the pH of his semen 5. That means you can get HIV 6. MORE THAN HALF OF THE POPULATION HAS HERPES 7. Type 1 is usually oral (cold sores) Type 2 is genital 8. You can give someone genital herpes if you have a cold sore and give them head 9. You can give someone cold sores if have genital herpes and receive head 10. Herpes lies dormant for years sometimes so you could have gotten it 10 years ago and it just now pops up 11. Most screening sites will not test for it, unless asked, because it cause problems within a relationship 12. Untreated chlamidiya (👈🏽 I’m trying) can make you infertile

You gave the most informative add on thank you Idk wth everyone else is talking about

I was at Disneyland yesterday and when I walked into the Princess Fantasy Faire I welled up with tears as I witnessed a magical moment with the newest princess Elena of Avalor speaking in full Spanish to a small princess visiting from Latin America.

Representation matters.

Oooh she’s so pretty 😍

Me: crying at this beautiful magical moment…

Also me: I don’t understand what is being said except zapatos. They are talking about shoes and I’m crying again.

I guess I should’ve translated for the non-Spanish speakers. Elena: “Your shoes are so sparkly! You know my grandmother always says a princess needs something sparkly so everyone knows that you are a princess and look; you have your crown, your dress and your shoes. Everything is so beautiful!”

The other day I answered the door to my postman. I was signing for stuff, like you do, when my kid came downstairs with only his underwear and a t-shirt on.

Now, the postman couldn’t see him from the front door, and I scribbled my signature and said, to my son, “You need to put some trousers on.”

My postman, very slowly, looked down at his trouser-clad legs with a mixture of confusion and horror, and then looked back up at me.

When I explained I was talking to my little boy out of his line of sight, he gave a very solemn nod and said: “I thought I’d put trousers on this morning, but suddenly when you said that, I really wasn’t sure.” 

Years after this, I still have the same postman. He still always wears trousers, but every time I answer the door, I’m pretty sure we both remember this incident.

Everyone Who Reblogs This Will Get A Pic Of Josh Dun In Their Inbox 🌈

Just doing this because I think everyone deserves a picture of Josh Dun in their Inbox because he’s so goddamn cute

I took a break from studying to draw this and honestly I think I deserve it after writing two exams in one day :’)

Still my favourite video ever

If you're in the 5 Seconds Of Summer family Reblog this post

I wanna see how big the fandom is on Tumblr

come on people

*family

Family is our thing

family

family

f a m i l y

Fam

fam ily

family

FamilyFamilyFamily

only 20k? cOME ON

60K

come on fam

I’ve got 91k alone so there’s gotta be more reblogs guys!

67K lets get this going

WE…ARE..FAM..ILY 

5SOS FAM ILY

I’ve been contemplating for several days something, and I’ve been trying to distill it into meaning, and put nice little bullet points on how this relates to things that have been bugging me about some common Discourses I’ve been seeing, but at the end, I only really have a story. So here, have a story.

About ten years ago, sometime in the eventful 2006-2007 George W. Bush-ruled hellscape of my identity development, I was just starting to figure out how I felt about my conservative upbringing (not great) and whether I was some brand of queer (probably, but too scared to think about what brand for too long). I was working as a server at a popular Italian-inspired sit-down restaurant that was the closest thing my tiny South Carolinian town had to “fancy” at the time but isn’t really fancy at all.

The host brought a party of four men to one of my tables. It was hard to tell their ages, but my guess is they were teenagers or in their early 20s in the 1980s. Mid-40s, at the time. It was standard to ask if anyone at the table was celebrating anything, so I did. They said they were business partners celebrating a great business deal and would like a bottle of wine.

It was a fairly busy night so I didn’t have a LOT of time to spend at their table, but they were nice guys. They were polite and friendly to me, they didn’t hit on me (as most men were prone to do – sometimes even in front of their girlfriends, a story I’ll tell later if anyone wants me to), and they were racking up a hell of a tab that was going to make my managers happy, so I checked on them as often as I could.

Toward the end of their second bottle of wine, as they were finishing their entrees, I stopped at the table and asked if they wanted any more drinks or dessert or coffee. They were well and truly tipsy by now, giggling, leaning back in their chairs – but so, so careful not to touch each other when anyone was near the table.

They’re all on the fence about dessert, so being a good server, I offered to bring out the dessert menu so they could glance it over and make a decision, “Since you’re celebrating.”

“She’s right!” one of the men said, far too emphatically for a conversation on dessert. “It’s your anniversary! You should get dessert!”

It was like a movie. The whole table went absolutely silent. The clank of silverware at the next table sounded supernaturally loud. Dean Martin warbled “That’s Amore” in some distorted alternate universe where the rest of the restaurant went on acting like this one tipsy man hadn’t just shattered their carefully crafted cover story and blurted out in the middle of a tiny, South Carolina town, surrounded by conservatives and rednecks, that they were gay men celebrating a relationship milestone. 

And I didn’t know what I was yet, but I knew I wasn’t an asshole, and I knew these men were family, and I felt their panic like a monster breathing down all our necks. It’s impossible to emphasize how palpably terrified they were, and how justified their terror was, and how much I wanted them to be happy.

So I did the only thing I knew to do. I said, “Congratulations! How many years?”

The man who’d spoken up burst into tears. His partner stood up and wrapped me in the tightest, warmest hug I’ve ever had – and I’ve never liked being touched by strangers, but this was different, and I hugged him back.

“Thank you,” he whispered, halfway to crying himself. “Thank you so much.”

When he finally let go of me and sat back down, they finally got around to telling me they were, in fact, two couples on a double date, and both celebrating anniversaries. Fifteen years for one of them, I think, and a few years off for the other. It’s hard to remember. It was a jumble of tears and laughter and trembling relief for all of us. They got more relaxed. They started holding hands – under the table, out of sight of anyone but me, but happy.

They did get dessert, and I spent more time at their table, letting them tell me stories about how they met and how they started dating and their lives together, and feeling this odd sense of belonging, like I’d just discovered a missing branch of my family.

When they finally left, all four of them took turns standing up and hugging me, and all four of them reached into their wallets to tip me. I tried to wave them off but they insisted, and the first man who’d hugged me handed me forty dollars and said, “Please. You are an angel. Please take this.”

After they left I hid in the bathroom and cried because I couldn’t process all my thoughts and feelings.

Fast forward to three days ago, when my own partner and I showed up to a dinner reservation at a fancy-casual restaurant to celebrate our fifth anniversary. The whole time I was getting ready to leave, there was a worry in the back of my mind. The internet web form had asked if the reservation was celebrating anything in particular, and I’d selected “Anniversary.” I stood in the bathroom blow-drying my hair, wondering what I would do if we showed up, two women, and the host or the server took one look at us and the “Anniversary” designation on our reservation and refused to serve us. It’s not as ubiquitous anymore, but we’re still in the south, and these things still happen. Eight years of progressive leadership is over, and we’ve got another conservative despot in office who’s emboldening assholes everywhere.

It was on my mind the whole fifteen minutes it took to drive there. I didn’t mention it to my partner because I didn’t want to cast a shadow over the occasion. More than that, I didn’t want to jinx us, superstitious bastard that I am.

We walked into the restaurant. I told the hostess we had a reservation, gave her my last name.

She looked at her screen, then looked back at us. She smiled, broadly and genuinely, and said, “Happy anniversary! Your table is right this way.”

Our server greeted us, said, “I heard you were celebrating!”

“It’s our anniversary,” Kellie said, and our server gasped, beaming.

“That’s great! Congratulations! How many years?”

And I finally breathed a sigh of relief, and I thought about those men at that restaurant ten years ago. I hope they’re still safe and happy, and I hope we all get the satisfaction of helping the world keep blooming into something that’s not so unrelentingly terrible all the time.

I am painfully aware that I am no one’s favorite person