need against need against need

2
An Open Letter to Hillary

I was eight years old when you became the First Lady. I remember that I liked your hair, and your headbands, and how pretty and young you seemed, standing with your charming husband, waving at the crowd.

There were jokes about you in my small town. You were too powerful, too bold, too attached to your maiden name. You made people nervous. In my house, though, you were admired. My father called you “Mrs. Clinton,” and we were proud to see you in the White House.

And then when I was older, following politics on my own, you were in the Senate. All the people who had said you were too smart, too pushy, too much, to be a First Lady, had to see you succeed all on your own. I wasn’t from New York, but it still felt, a little, like you represented me.

I was so happy when Obama appointed you Secretary of State. I canvassed for him in 2008, as charmed and energized by him as everyone else, but I wished that it hadn’t had to be at the expense of your own campaign. Seeing you as Secretary was a balm, and you seemed to thrive. Do you remember when that picture became famous, the photo of you texting on Air Force One? God, I loved it. You had arrived. You looked like the most powerful woman in the world, like all of that responsibility rested easy on your shoulders. You were a badass.

As I watched you this fall, debating against a man who made a mockery of democracy, I took comfort in the way you handled yourself. You looked like a president, for all that we’d never had one who looked like you before.

I didn’t believe you could lose this thing, Hillary. When I cast my ballot for you, it felt momentous. It felt like it meant something. And it did. It did.

That’s what I want you to know. I can’t imagine how it felt when you realized that somehow, for reasons that hurt my heart so deeply I can barely breathe, Trump was going to win. But I want you to know that you did not fail. America failed you, but you did not fail.

Because you know what? I’ve grown up with you. Your very presence in the world has changed the parameters of mine. I grew up watching you fight your way through Washington, and every step you took was also a step for me, and for every other woman in this country.

So thank you, Hillary, for the work you have done and will continue to do. I’m sorry you won’t be my president, but I hope you realize that you’ve been so many other things to so very many women.

shit i love

when lers verbally tease you like

“awww is someone ticklish?”

“coochie coochie coo!”

“was that a giggle i heard? hmm, i wonder if i can make you do it again..”

“i’m sorry but you’re just too adorable not to tickle!”

“if you don’t stop wiggling around i’m gonna make this a lot worse!”

“what a cute squishy tummy! i wonder what would happen if i gave it a tickle..”

also being called things like 

“darling”

“cutie”

“sweetheart”

and just other stuff fucking kills me 

1036. Lily and James' first time was in the Room of Requirement. They didn't mean to spend the night there and didn't even know the room existed until then- it just happened. When they came back to the dorm they found banners that said "it’s about bloody time" and all their friends clapping. Sirius even came and shook their hands. Lily didn't know where to bury herself but James enjoyed every second. He felt like he just won but not at Quidditch- he won something much more important, Lily.