On that note, I think that’s all the premier blogging I have in me tonight! I’m exhausted! To summarize: 

I loved this episode.

No but really, I loved it. 

Characters communicating. With other characters. Using their words. Speaking. Sharing thoughts about feelings. Revolutionary! 

Rumbelle not making me want to rip my hair out. Belle being the amazing character I know she can be. not!Morpheus!RumbelleJr being a babe if not a shady babe. (It’s always the ones in the robes.)

Emma and Killian. Just, there they were, in front of my eyeballs. Being in love and facing the obstacles. I’m not worried about these two love muffins, there will be limited angst and then sweet confessions of love and devotion. Also Emma isn’t going to die so it’ll all be fine. Everything is fine. (And the Oracle is a liar and also Jafar. Her calling card was fucking Iago.) 

Zelena as the harried new mother, being the Worst Roommate ever. 10/10

Regina and Snow having a moment that honestly melted my heart. Also Regina being emotional about Robin was unexpected and SO welcome. (I thought they were going to gloss over it so this was such a pleasant surprise.) 

Anyway, love ya babes. So glad we’re finally back in proper Once Upon a Time season :) I’ve missed this.

anonymous asked:

I actually want Karlie to be brunette again with long hair but I think she loves the blonde the same way Taylor loves her bangs


I am sick of the girl being pretty once her glasses come off. I’m sick of the boy suddenly staring at her because she’s taken her hair out of a bun. I’m sick of the dances that she said she didn’t want to attend suddenly being the place where she shows up and learns to live.
I want a movie where she gets kissed because her lab goggles left circles around her eye sockets. Where she doesn’t go to the dance and isn’t ashamed of it. Where she wins the science fair and the way the blue ribbon looks on her makes somebody’s knees weak.
I want a movie where the girl doesn’t get tamed. Where she’s still a badass bitch at the end of it. Where she doesn’t need a man because she has a killer girlfriend who is a cute nerdy radio technician. Where her freckles don’t get concealed on the big night. Where she shows up to prom in a suit and a model on her arm.
I want a movie where the queen bee is also a 4.0 student. Where she wears makeup and styles her hair and gets her work done. Where the pretty girl is also pure of heart, works on the weekends at soup kitchens, shows up with heels on. Where the queen bee lets the new girl have the boy because she doesn’t see the point in trying to compete. Where they end up friends at the end and the boy ends up with nothing.
I want a movie where girls are art without having to be painted over. Where we are beautiful without reason, where we don’t need to prove ourselves as being worth a boy’s affections. I want a movie where we don’t have to be secretly fuckable in order to get a happy ending.
—  We look good in a red ballgown and also while reading a book and also while burning this whole thing down. // r.i.d
  • 2006 Taylor:I don't swear, I love cowboy boots and girly stuff like sundresses, and I try to be a good girl and I believe my prince is out there, and country music is where my heart is and I stay out of politics
  • 2016 Taylor:I'm going to date whoever the fuck I want and make whatever music I fucking want and bleach my hair and wear plaid and jeans and chokers and no bra and fuck you if you think women in this industry are treated equally and also here's a shout out to gay rights in my album's opening song and on twitter and IG and I'm going to help a rape survivor with her court fees and a gay fan who got kicked out of their house and me and Bey changed the entire music industry by ourselves and half the men I know ain't shit and don't get called out for anything

#i just want to know if the way she pushes his hair out of the way is something talia probably did for them as children #some sort of comforting small touch to make them feel better when they felt sick #or was it just instinct for cora to touch her brother in a very simple but comforting way because he needed it or maybe she needed it #to make sure her brother was okay #im just very emotional and i wish they would have explored their relationship more

Percy’s got a pro hair stylist to do his hair for date night this week.
He will be the best big brother.

I’m dedicating this to all the people who have been having a rough time recently. I hope it makes your week a little better or at least makes you giggle. I want to put a big shout out to @percyyoulittleshit because she really made me smile the other day and I want to try and return the smile :) and to @solbabydraws because her percabeth art and kid sister art gives me life. You guys inspire me so much 💙
Keep being awesome and stay safe everyone.

There was this girl. And let me tell you, this girl
she was sunshine.
Burning the ground beneath your barefeet, light radiating from the very pores of her skin, bright, beautiful, sunshine.
I think I loved her.
She brought warmth to my fingers and toes (she teased me for having extremities that were perpetually cold). Laughed when I told her to fuck off. Held my hand through museums. Never once teased me for pulling her into the night to look at the moon.
I swear to god she kissed me like she wanted to make flowers bloom between my lips and
I think I loved
this idea of her.
The one where I walk out of the house and into a storm, door slammed behind me, and she comes running out in wet socks and soaked hair, begging me to stay the night.
The one where she never makes me feel anything but Amazing, and certainly not Just Human.
The one where she is always a personification of sunshine, and not someone with imperfections sometimes too dark to gloss with metaphor.
But this was a love poem, wasn’t it? And so it must go that
There was this girl.
She was sunshine.
I was lukewarm water. Any warmth of my own I gave her left me feeling ice cold.
I know she loved me.
But water evaporates in the sun and
I couldn’t change my chemistry.
—  “I don’t trust myself not to make a metaphor of you” // dionne sims

I think when you’re 16 you don’t expect it to hurt as much as it does but what the fuck would you know about love till it slams into your chest and knocks the wind out of your lungs
so you fall in love
and he leaves
and you stop washing your hair
and your skin is bruised with the creases in your sheet
and your mother wants to yell at you but your blank stare just makes her eyes tear up and you’re not supposed to see your mother cry
and you’ll probably try destroying yourself because that’s what you do when you’re 16
so you’ll pull apart razors and hide them someplace your parents can find them but they never do
and you’ll start smoking even though it makes you cough so hard you throw up and you can’t stand the burning in your throat
and you’ll run away without ever leaving your bedroom
and maybe you’ll kiss too many boys who mean nothing but mean all too much and they will all look a little like him or nothing at all
and you let him fuck you up
and you leave him drunk voicemails and you haven’t cried in 23 days even though you’re always crying
and you promise you will never love anything again because it hurts more than they warned
no one told you that this was love
maybe it’s more
maybe it’s something from another world
maybe it’s just your bones breaking again
either way it fucking burns
and now you’re older
and you know to expect to come out the other side missing a few pieces of yourself
but sometimes you get caught up and you forgot that it’s supposed to hurt
because it’s not supposed to fucking hurt
and you blink and you’re bleeding again
and it’s like you’re 16 all over again
trying to rip yourself to shreds while you try to pick up all the pieces of yourself
everyone thinks you’re mysterious because your mouth is sewn shut with the sudden death of past loves but you’re just so fucking quiet because they’ve taken so much out of you, you can hardly open your eyes, forget about your mouth,
and I guess the worst part about love dying out is that you don’t die with it,

you just attend the funeral and visit the grave every time you’re drunk. you’re always so goddamn drunk.


We’ve gotten a ton of questions about how I made Cjgren‘s giant Rose Quartz wig, so in this post I’ll be going over all of my steps in detail!  There’s a lot of things I like about this wig but also a few steps that I’d do differently if I had to make it again.  I’ll try to touch on all of those to help out any future Rose cosplayers who want to make their own behemoth wigs!

Materials needed:

  • Four 40" long pink wigs
  • Styrofoam block
  • Pink felt
  • 14 or 16 gauge wire
  • Drill curl material such as heavy fusible interfacing or packing tape
  • Curlers and/or curling iron
  • Scissors
  • Hot glue
  • Tacky glue and/or tacky spray
  • Got2B and/or hairspray
  • Needle and thread
  • Toupee clips and hairpins

Click the below cut to get started!

Keep reading

“It isn’t supposed to hurt this much, is it,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, forcing him to look her in the eye.

“No,” he croaks out, “it’s not.”

“So why does it? Because I love you, and that should be enough. It has to be.” She clings to her words, like speaking them out loud would make them true.

“I love you too,” he sighs, and he looks so beautiful for a second, so miserable and beautiful she wants to take a picture to hold on to.

They’re silent.
And the silence carries the words neither one dares to speak: It’s over, it has to be. Love is good, but it’s only a feeling. The world is real and it’s big and it’s cruel and love is supposed to make it bearable but sometimes it can’t.
They’re silent.
They love each other.
They’re silent.
It’s not enough, and just because it feels real doesn’t mean it is. The world is too much for a feeling to break it.
They’re silent.
I miss you, they say, in their silence. It will hurt to miss you, and it will hurt to let go. It will hurt to stop missing you. It will hurt.
They’re silent.

—  Last words aren’t that important, it’s the silence that follows that matters.

How do I tell you that when you left me it tore out all the good parts of me too. In four years when we bump into each other at the store and you’re with another girl do I blurt, “We were a delicate perfection but you were a strong wind” do I look at her until my eyes turn inside out and I melt onto the ground.

My hands sweaty, my hair a mess. We barely make eye contact. Do you know you were the worst pain I ever felt. Do you know I had to grow a new heart from scratch. Do you know that some sick part of me still wants your approval.

It’s a nice day, isn’t it? Oh, didn’t know you lived around here. Yesterday I was making breakfast and had to stop because suddenly I remembered the way you smiled in the morning. She seems lovely. How bout those red sox.


I drew the Big Hero 6 gang! :3 (Please don’t repost without permission ;o;)

Bonus because everytime i draw tadashi it turns out poop

The irony of the girl with the hair loss disorder getting a Rapunzel-inspired tattoo. I was diagnosed with trichotillomania when I was 12. I’ll be 22 next month, and I’m still fighting it. When I first thought of this tattoo idea, I wanted to get it when I beat trich, as a reward to myself for having a full head of hair. However, after 10 years of struggling with this, I’ve realized that might not happen for me. In Tangled, the Disney version of Rapunzel, her hair isn’t just long- it’s magic. She spends most of the movie protecting it because she believes it’s the thing that makes her special. But at the end of the movie, her long hair is cut off, and she finds out she’s still magic. She realizes her hair isn’t what made her special. She’s special without it. So that’s what this tattoo is to me. A reminder that hair isn’t what makes me special. Hair doesn’t determine my worth. Whether I end up beating this disorder or I go the rest of my life fighting it, I’m magic.

if a girl want’s to dress in basically nothing imma defend that girl. if a girl wants to dress up from head to toe i will defend that girl. a girl want’s to lose weight? i will defend that girl. a girl wants to gain weight? i will defend that girl. a girl wants to cover herself in tattoo’s and dye her hair blue? that girl = defended. a girl want’s to dress up in all pink and grow her hair out and dye it strawberry blonde? defended. any girls, whether listed here or not, all defended. i will defend trans, masculine, feminine, tall, short, skinny, fat, pretty, ugly, disabled, young, old, gay, straight, no matter what girl, i will defend that girl and what she is and who she wants to be to my death. i fucking love girls and i want literally all of them to be happy and i want no one being ugly and ruining their day or making them upset.

At a party boys curl up on my lap,
clouds of marijuana hanging low over their heads. 
I want to do something about myself but really
I just want to get on the next bus to Manhattan
and never look back. After moving out,
I think about my parents all the time
but never call to say so. Instead I wear black
four days in a row and paint my nails in manic colors.
My laundry just sits and sits. Living with other girls
has taught me that nothing you own is really yours
and it’s probably not your hair in the shower drain.
Daisy makes tea and Chloe stays in her room
and Brooke hasn’t cried in three days which is a miracle,
which is everything. We run the streets at night
and steam the smoke out of our dresses.
Drunk and heavy, we carry ourselves back,
up the steps, through the front door, 
the end of summer hot on our heels.
I expect my new piercing to hurt, but it just
reminds me, dully, that nothing is ever really
as permanent as we’d hope.
—  Kristina Haynes, “Permanent”

anonymous asked:

what is your type?

A girl who holds my hand in the car and plays with my fingers. One that messes with my hair but never my heart. A girl who cares enough to not let me brush off however I’m feeling but understands that I’m not always ready to talk. One who will dance it out with me and be goofy. A girl who understands that I have really bad nights sometimes and I’ll think the world is crumbling down. One who just vibes with me and will make memories with me from slow dancing in the kitchen to making out in the middle of a crowded sidewalk.
A girl who wants me as much as I want her.

Date the girl whose hair is a mess and steals your t-shirts and kisses you in front of boys who look at her admiringly. Date the girl who wants to dance in the rain with you and make tea for you and make you laugh so hard you snort tea out your nose. Date the girl who cares so much that she can tell something is wrong just by looking at you. Date the girl who will wrap her arms around you for no reason and pay attention when you talk about the things you love, even if she doesn’t love them herself. Date the girl who looks like a lazy sunday afternoon instead of a saturday night. Yeah. Just date that girl.
—  Date that Girl | Nikita Gill

My angel,
She needs to be handled with care
People only see her beauty
The way they see the beauty of a porcelain vase
They don’t hold back from shattering her in anger
They don’t understand
She’s not there for them to chew her up and spit her out
She’s not a piece of delicate fabric
She doesn’t taste like sugar icing

She’s skin and bones and hair and sinew
She’s beating heart and brains
Her laugh has a raw edge
That people want to smooth out
To make her into the perfect saint
They want her to be

I just want to push all these people out of the way
And listen to her breathe.

This Trans Guy Wrote A Letter To The Little Girl He Once Was To Say Sorry

“A Letter to the Girl I Used to Be”

Dear Emily,
Every time I watch baseball a voice I no longer recognise whispers
“Ethan, do you remember? When you were going to be the first girl
To play in the major league Seattle mariners rally cap?”
But to honest Emily I don’t
Dad told me that like it was someone else’s bedtime story
But I do know you had that drive
Didn’t let anyone tell you to wear shorts above your knees
Didn’t care if boys thought your hair fell on your shoulders just right
But with girls, sleepovers meant the space between your shoulder and hers
Was a 6-inch fatal territory

The year you turned 11
Was the first time you said out loud that you didn’t want to live anymore
In therapy you said you wouldn’t make it to 21
On my 21st birthday I thought about you
You were right
At 19 you started to fade
I tried to cross you out like a line in my memoir
I wished I could erase completely
And maybe I’m misunderstanding the definition of death
But even though parts of you still exist
You are not here
Most of my friends have never heard your name until now

Finally finished that WIP that I uploaded yesterday. Been wanting to draw Rose for a VERY long time. I was so intimidated with her curls, that it’s kept me from drawing her, because I felt like I would mess them up….I did it anyways :’D