me @ my friends with mental health issues: i love you so much!!! i’m here if you ever need anything and i support you and believe in you 💖💖💖💖

me @ myself: *hitting myself with a stick* WHY CANT YOU FUNCTION LIKE A NORMAL FUCKING HUMAN BEING!!!! IM SICK OF YOUR SHIT!!! GET OUT OF BED!!! BE HAPPY!!!!! THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH UR STUPID ASS FFS

You Know Them...

You know Gryffindors by their breaths. The breath of sheer excitement. The breath of knowing that we’re alive every time we fill our lungs with wind smelling of pines, clouds and adventure. The slow breaths next to a campfire at a southern beach at night, cuddling your loved ones and nuzzling your head in their necks, leaving no room between their heartbeat and yours. The rapid breaths of running into the wilderness with madness in their eyes and a euphoric sensation of belonging in their hearts. The breath of Viking adventurers, the revolutionaries, the withheld, the rebels. The breath that you hear on your side whenever you try to run from the terrors of your darkness. The breath of those who are ready to hold your hand and take the leap of faith with you. The breath when you curse in between lips slightly ajar. The breath that laughs the loudest in a group of friends walking together. The breath that pushes away a lock of fallen hair from their eyes before a match. The breath of relief you feel on your lips after a first kiss. The breaths you take to convince yourself you’re okay, you’re capable, you’re brave. The breath of a Gryffindor is the first one you take, and the last one you let out.

You know Hufflepuffs by their smile. The smile of nostalgia in the smell of old photos and movie tickets in a memory box. The smile of feeling the waves on your feet and the sun on your skin as you walk with your toes in the sand. The smile of mutual happiness when no one is sad and people only cry of laughter. The smile of Christmas, of Easter, the smile of a family that will always be together. The smile of a young child starting kindergarten for a first time and the smile of a grandmother cooking for her grandchildren. The smile when you are the only one to understand a joke. The smile after the first peck on the cheek and the first bare touch on your skin. The smile that can only be seen behind closed eyes, a smile that knows it all works out in the end. The smile when you feel the peace coming with the sensation of being complete after all this time, knowing you did your best and left a mark in this world like you wanted. The smile of Mother Rhea, the innocents, the mentors, the knights. The smile after wrapping yourself in a cozy blanket at a cold December night and cupping your hot chocolate in your hands. The smile after you help your friend with their homework and they get an A. The smile of a baby seeing the rain for the first time in her life. The joyful smile of knowing your lover is the one and the painful smile after you decide to let go of an unrequited love. The smile of a Hufflepuff is the one on your face looking at the sunrise and waiting for possibilities.

You know Ravenclaws by their eyes. The eyes with black shadows underneath. The eyes you can stare at for hours and see more stars than you can see in a galaxy. Eyes glowing with illumination and tears from happiness. Eyes sunken deep inside from the reading all through the night and not realizing the morning has awoken. The eyes of an archer in the fields, arrow ready, bow drawn. Eyes of a small child watching the first snowflake fall onto her nose. The eyes that reflect moonlight and unveil the foggy mysteries behind our own souls. Eyes staring at you, expecting lies, in need of truths and aching for more questions. Eyes of your lover painting you with brighter colors in their mind and being in awe of your perfected creation. Eyes the color of gemstones, flowers, the sky, chocolate. Eyes staring at the world from atop a mountain and admiring every single brush stroke that brought this marvel together. Eyes watering after reciting a familiar poem by heart after a long time. Eyes getting bigger behind glasses. Eyes that never really leave your soul. Eyes falling in love with dreams and eyes that show you everything is connected and everything is beautiful. Eyes of Greek philosophers, the muses, the wanderers, the inventors. Eyes inspecting the world and wandering around a kaleidoscope of butterflies. Eyes that know too much and eyes that saw the world burn and rise from its own ashes. Eyes dead on their tracks and eyes burning from a stream of tears cried into pillows silently. The eyes of a Ravenclaw are your eyes when you finally realize that questions can be answered any day and sometimes, we just need to feel capable of understanding ourselves in mundane feelings.

You know Slytherins by their hands. The hands that grab yours tighter than anyone else’s. Hands brushing against your cheek as you tremble all over and let your eyelids fall down. Hands over the shoulders of a friend, grabbing on the wrist of a child, on your lover’s chest as you understand you are the reason their pulse came alive after years of death. Hands raised in classrooms that belong to the heirs of our universe, hands wondering who can reach the highest star. Hands pointing at the sky, hands of children who never look at the finger. Hands holding onto their pen and waiting for the first word to pour out of their mind, hands who aim to share their creations with others who are willing to hold onto it. Hands calloused and bruised, hands working hard and sweating, hands trembling under the weight of dreams and ideals. Hands of a soldier at alert to pull their sword out of its sheath, hands ready to rip their nemesis’s throat apart. Hands of kings, thieves, priests and sinners. Hands of Hercules after fighting Cerberus. Hands dusty and covered in the dirt of the crowds in the streets, hands grabbing half-full beer bottles, hands sharing the last sip with your gang. Hands petting a Siamese that peacefully crawls on your lap. Hands lifting your goblet and drinking with your allies and enemies all the same. Hands on the strings of a violin and on the keys of a piano, playing a strange tune that infiltrates your mind and makes anything seem easier to deal with. The hands of a Slytherin are those of death, the coldest, the most out-worldly, yet the most appealing in the end.

You know, after all, you know wizards and witches by their soul. The soul of a newborn deity opening their eyes to the inevitable reality of humanity. The soul of a dried leaf drifting through the wind and not wanting to know where the journey ends. Souls tormented, deranged, broken, souls toxic and transparent. Souls passing through empty bodies every day and searching for home. Souls learning to love, to hate, to forgive, to avenge. Souls more powerful than blood in the veins and bones in the flesh. After all, the souls of witches and wizards are those of Icarus, flying too high at the highest of sun and burning themselves into an end more glorious than the punishments of hell can bring.

IF YOU DON’T REBLOG THIS BABY CHERUB, YOUR MELANIN WILL CRACK LIKE FISH IN HOT GREASE.

She’s too cute 😊

^^Is that a curse? Lol

Hell nah b I’m not risking this

Too risky.

I would reblog this baby without the threat ☹️

I still can’t believe I was threatened for no reason

This is like my 3rd time reblogging💖💖

CUTEEE and I have reblogged this maybe twice now

Cute!

2017-2018 aka the years of bad-ass beautiful woman beating my ass.

the phrase “curiosity killed the cat” is actually not the full phrase it actually is “curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back” so don’t let anyone tell you not to be a curious little baby okay go and be interested in the world uwu

See also:

Blood is thicker than water The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.

Meaning that relationships formed by choice are stronger than those formed by birth.

Let’s not forget that “Jack of all trades, master of none” ends with “But better than a master of one.”

It means that being equally good/average at everything is much better than being perfect at one thing and sucking at everything else. So don’t worry if you’re not perfect at something you do! Being okay is better!

These made me feel better

Also, “great minds think alike” ends with “but fools rarely differ”

It goes to show that conformity isn’t always a good thing. And that just because more than one person has the same idea, doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a good idea.

what the fuck why haven’t i heard the full version to any of these 

“Birds of a feather flock together” ends with “until the cat comes.”

It’s actually a warning about fair-weather friends, not an assessment of how complementary people are.

I’ve always felt like these were cut down on purpose.

I really like these phrases and plan on spreading this knowledge.

The early bird catches the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.

I want to make designs out of these.

Funny how all the half-finished ones encourage uniformity and upholding the status-quo, while the complete proverbs encourage like…living exciting, eclectic lives driven by choice and personal passion.

NICE

The legendary thread is back

Bonus: The second mouse tells us it’s okay to sleep in and get plenty of rest, which fuck if we don’t all need to follow that advice.

Photos of Chadwick Boseman still enjoying Wakanda Forever… Reblog for good luck

Correction. Dr. Chadwick Boseman. 🙌🏿

x

I truly live in the darkest timeline where diverse and amazing shows like Brooklyn Nine Nine, The Get Down, and Sense 8 are canceled and Supernatural is on its 100th season and a show romanticizing suicide got renwed.

The Big Bang Theory got renewed too.

This is the Bad Place.

Renewed with only 2 episodes out. Legend status. 

Random gifs of Dinah Laurel Lance (13/?)

Not to sound pretentious bc I truly only learned like…two years ago but the met gala does not work the way a lot of us think it does

is this for real. someone explain.

it’s a white tie charity gala. It’s not meant to be a costume party and the “theme” refers to the actual like them of the gala as in the clothing s not the people who attend. That’s why people show up in a black dress or something simple cuz…it’s a charity thing, not a couture show. Also Anna Wintour oversees everything, everyone that’s invited and who is wearing what designer. 

i already knew it was a charity event (bc that’s what a gala is for…) bc i work in the museums field and everyone hears about the met gala & i STILL think it’s weak to not dress to match a costume exhibition theme because that is the WHOLEEEE point. it is literally a gala for the Costume Institute. 

also like yeah it’s a charity thing but it’s a spectacle which is why Anna Wintour has so much control

ALSO LET’S CLARIFY:

Yes, the Met Gala is USUALLY white or black tie, HOWEVER dressing according to the theme is 100% expected:

the theme is in ADDITION to the dress code and you’re supposed to do BOTH (lots of men failed to dress appropriately for a White Tie event too). 

and it’s a by invitation event - then people are invited are matched to various designers. once designers and attendees are matched, then the coordination of entire TABLES of outfits (i.e. who is sitting together at the gala) begins. first they invite special guests who attend for free (if Anna Wintour likes you) and then they sell tickets to select people. 

while vogue tries to be all “it’s not costume-y wah wah” the truth is, this is for a COSTUME institute, and high fashion is absolutely appropriate, and so is dressing on theme. 

eta: the reason this charity event exists is because The Met Costume Institute is responsible for financing itself as a curatorial department, the museum doesn’t finance that curatorial department. 

THE FIRST 10 YEARS

A (Short) List of Latino Roles Stolen by Gringos

Latinos literally make up 18% of the U.S. population but only have 3% of speaking roles. There has not been a single Latina who has won for a leading role, and the only Latino to win was José Ferrer back in 1951.

And even when we get a couple of Latino roles, half the time they’re stolen by and given to fucking gringos. The other half of the time we get cast as criminals, maids, and promiscuous latin lovers for gringos to fetishize.

Olivia from On My Block isn’t the first time we’ve heard of this shit happening. This has been happening for literal decades.  

So to Hollywood and gringos everywhere I say: chinga tu puta madre. 

(non-latinos encouraged to reblog. anyone feel free to make additions to the list in case i forgot some, these are the first that came to mind).

Here’s an idea, bear with me because it might be too radical, but a relationship between a bi woman and a man is still lgbtq+ representation because it is representative of a bisexual’s relationship, and bisexuals are part of the lgbtq+ community.

Fucking wild I know. I’ll let you take a moment to collect yourselves.

Reblog to make a biphobe angry 💖

children of blood and bone | tomi adeyemi

WE GON’ START A MOTHERFUCKIN PUSSY RIOT, OR WE GON’ HAVE TO PUT EM ON A PUSSY DIET