Tumblr Resources to Get You Through the School Year!
Hi guys!! Thank you all so much for your support!!! Happy 250 (EDIT: I SPENT A DAY ON THIS AND NOW IM PAST 300) and hope you all have a great start to the month! The community is more welcoming with all of you - I haven’t faced negativity from anyone at all. None of these are my posts - but they’ve helped me out a lot. With that said - let’s get started:
This is one of my side blogs, and has tons of inspiration for weekly and monthly spreads, as well as a few aesthetic ideas and how to start one. I update this constantly.
Thank you so much for the support! I couldn’t have done it without all of you. A simple reblog or like will help others see these tips, and will be very appreciated. I hope these links work - feel free to message me with questions and other links!! A possible part 2 might come out at the end of august, and one for languages!!!
“…I’m gonna show you tonight! I’m alright! I’m just fine! And you’re a tool so, so what?”
You belted your heart out up on stage, pumping your fist in the air to empower your words even further. It was a good thing you knew all the words, too, because your mates had bought you so many drinks your vision was crossed and blurred you couldn’t have read the lyrics to an unfamiliar song. Then you would have just been a blubbering fool butchering a karaoke performance. And that would have been embarrassing.
Singing yourself blue in the face—and drinking yourself into oblivion—served as the perfect outlet for your aching heart. Hours earlier, you’d been dumped. Or more accurately, replaced.
It’d been a week since you’d heard from your long-term boyfriend, and while you knew he was on holiday with his mates—a holiday you hadn’t been invited on—it was still odd that you hadn’t heard from him at all. Not even a text to let you know that he’d made it to Amsterdam. You didn’t expect too much communication; you trusted him to treat you right, but, silly you, you thought your boyfriend might actually miss you and want to say hi.
Last night after seven and a half days of nothing, you completely lost it and called him forty-seven times in a row. And not a single one was answered. So you rang your closest friends and they came over, laptops and tablets in hand, and intense cyber-stalking commenced.
It only took thirty-four minutes for your good mate Lindsey to unearth a damning post on Insta that your boyfriend was tagged in by a girl you kind of knew. The picture itself wasn’t awful; honestly you couldn’t make out much besides silhouettes and drinks. Even the caption wasn’t much; all it said was, “this guy” with a random slew of emojis. But the funny thing was, when you tried to search for it yourself, nothing came up. Meaning you were blocked. You weren’t meant to see this picture.
Twenty-two minutes of super-sleuthing was enough time for your oldest friend Ashley to find every social media account the girl had, and then eventually uncover her phone number.
In thirteen minutes you had a text drafted to her that was so long it was broken into five different parts when you hit send.
And one minute and fifty-four seconds is all the time your boyfriend—well ex-boyfriend—allowed you to speak to him today before he told you he was coming back tomorrow and there’d be no need for you to come see him. Tomorrow or ever again.
So your mates did what they knew best. They took you out, got you absolutely smashed, and then got you up on stage to pour your heart out. Somewhere in between I Will Survive and Total Eclipse of the Heart, you got a bit weepy and ended up calling your brother from the toilet. It took you awhile to realize you weren’t actually sobbing to him but his voicemail, and as soon as you did you pulled yourself back together and headed out for another drink and a rousing rendition of Since U Been Gone.
The few other patrons in the pub were hardly paying attention to your drunken warbling on stage, only breaking from their conversations when your mates would cheer at the end of each song, some of them even offering half-hearted claps. If they were annoyed, they certainly didn’t let on. Most likely, they pitied you; for Christ sake, you pitied you.
When your song ended, you finished the rest of your drink and began flipping through the songbook. Liberation was surging through you and you wanted a song to match your mood; something to serve as a proper fuck you to the twat you’d wasted the last few years of your young life on.
The book closed on your fingers, and you stumbled back in surprise. Were books automated now too?! You still weren’t over the automated tills at Tesco, would you now have to get used to robotic books closing on you when they’d had enough?!
You looked up, your blurred vision slowly coming into focus as you swayed on the spot. A robotic book didn’t close itself on you, a person had closed it. Which was rather rude of them.
“[Y/N],” he repeated. Finally he came into view and you cocked your head in confusion.
“Hazza?” you slurred, taking a step closer to get a better look. You nearly toppled off the stage, but Harry was quick to grab you by the waist and steady you before easing you down.
hey guys! i’ve noticed lately that a lot of gifsets/edits of moana, especially pastel ones, have been whitewashing her skin, and i know that this isn’t just a problem in moana gifs, so i thought it might be a good idea to make a comprehensive guide on how to avoid whitewashing poc/color poc in general. this guide will be split into three parts: vibrant gifs, pastel gifs, and dark gifs (any of the tips i give for gifs can be applied to edits as well – it’s even easier to avoid whitewashing poc in edits, because you can color it normally and then erase the lightening layers over the person’s skin).
rly dumb connor/evan headcanons that no one asked for but here they are
evan always leaves notes in connor’s locker. sometimes they’re cutesy boyfriend things like, “you look extra cute today,” and sometimes they’re not like, “tell cynthia i like the new fabric softener she’s using, your clothes smell great.”
connor visits evan at pottery barn all the time, almost always uninvited. he claims that he is genuinely interested in overpriced homegoods, but evan can see right through him.
connor loves the smell that evan leaves behind when he spends the night. evan’s cologne (is it cologne?) is subtle and comforting, so connor doesn’t mind that his pillow and bedsheets smell like evan the next day.
after a lot of begging from connor, evan finally let him paint his nails black. he ended up liking the process (all that hand touching) but not the end result, and took off the nail polish the next day with the help of his mom.
Bechloe Agents AU - Part 1 / 2: Beca and the girls are members of an elite team of agents, Code Name: BELLAS. Chloe and Beca have been secretly (or not so secretly) dating. Chloe gets sent on what should’ve been a simple recon mission and gets captured. After being ordered not to interfere, Beca feels helpless until Amy convinces her to forget the rules and go save her partner and girlfriend.