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can i bite u. say yes

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Reblog to open a rail line from your blog to the person you reblogged this from

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No, I didn't "like" your post, I made you hot chocolate and sat down with you and draped a blanket over your shoulders

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genuinely fucked up that if i want to interact with someone online i have to say words and have a conversation instead of just mashing my face against them like a cat

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what is this and why is it on my dash?????

PSA

avoid conforming to traditional gender norms by avoiding this common palette:

try using these palettes instead!!

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Im trying to prove a point to my mum

Repost if school has caused:

Anxiety Depression Suicidal thoughts Social anxiety Eating disorders Self harm Stress

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reblog to give a trans woman a yummy burger

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Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy

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Thank you to everyone who got me to 100 likes!

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500 likes!

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“Gordon! Gooooordon!” Ed called, stumbling into their quarters. His face was flushed and his hair was a mess.

“Ed? Are you okay?” Gordon went to support his boyfriend, smelling the alcohol on Ed as he got close. “Are you drunk?” 

“Absolutely wasted!” Ed laughed, leaning on Gordon. The smell of Kelly’s perfume was strong under the alcohol. 

“Okay then,” Gordon sighed. He was usually the one getting wasted, and the fact Ed was with Kelly didn’t bode well for how much he had wanted to get drunk. 

“Let’s get you into bed then buddy,” Gordon shuffled Ed along with him, dropping him onto the bed as soon as they were close enough.

“Gordon,” Ed whispered.

“Yes Ed?” Gordon whispered back.

“Come get in bed with me.” Ed made grabby hands towards his partner. Gordon shook his head before crawling into Ed’s arms.

“We’ll talk in the morning,” Gordon whispered, “Sleep well for now.”

October is kicking my ass

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Nick’s little cottage in West Egg had become Gatsby’s primary residence since he was shot. He loved the place, drafts and all. It felt more like home than his mansion ever did. He still owned the mansion, of course, but he now only staffed one cleaner and barely ever visited. He had been especially avoiding the swimming pool.

The cottage felt like home, not because of any quality it possessed, but because of Nick. Nick made the space feel warm, cozy, and welcoming. After James had been shot Nick had insisted he come home to West Egg, so he could be looked after. James had complained, of course, but otherwise relented. 

Tonight James and Nick were curled up on the couch, each with a book in hand. James’s hand ran unthinkingly through Nick’s hair, and he knew that he was safe and home.

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Harvey needed Shane to eat more. He knew that the other man lived off of beer, pizza, and pepper poppers. This worried him not just as a doctor, but as Shane’s boyfriend. 

So, Operation Feed Shane had begun. Harvey had started inviting Shane over for dinner as often as he could without seeming suspicious, making healthy, delicious meals for them to share. 

After a while of Shane and Harvey sharing meals, they had started going to restaurants every two weeks. Usually it was just the salon, but they would sometimes sneak off to Zuzu city for an evening. They would dine somewhere affordable, see something cool, and make it back in the wee hours of the morning, often falling into bed together.