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tears: The man of tears.
tears: The man of tears.

The man of tears.

tears: Well I’m starting my day with tears.via: @dank_uchiha
tears: Well I’m starting my day with tears.via: @dank_uchiha

Well I’m starting my day with tears.via: @dank_uchiha

tears: *cue the violins and white tears*
tears: *cue the violins and white tears*

*cue the violins and white tears*

tears: *cue the violins and white tears* by bayougirl84 MORE MEMES
tears: *cue the violins and white tears* by bayougirl84
MORE MEMES

*cue the violins and white tears* by bayougirl84 MORE MEMES

tears: cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the golden age of piracy ended. The first mermaid to get tattoos :) “we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?” “kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes. “we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.” “i know.” x “daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.” her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her. “daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor. “don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing. x “father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?” “your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.” she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says. x “why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam. “we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.” she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family. “it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.” x her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.” the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass. “why not?” the mermaid asks. “he’ll win,” the first mate says. the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks. x the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her. “don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.” x the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape. “let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.” they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her. she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings. the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone. x she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea. x “you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her. she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise. “i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.” the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. “we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either. “i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time. “guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.” “without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?” “i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?” “of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.” x the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid. “you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock. the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy. “they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.” “and now?” “they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?” the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.” She protects her family. Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817 That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there! HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER
tears: cereusblue:
unnameablethings:


dragonsateyourtoast:

redporkpadthai:

dragonsateyourtoast:

otherwindow:

otherwindow:
This is how the golden age of piracy ended.
The first mermaid to get tattoos :)


“we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?”
“kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes.
“we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.”
“i know.”
x
“daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.”
her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her.
“daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor.
“don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing.
x
“father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?”
“your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.”
she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says.
x
“why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam.
“we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.”
she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family.
“it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.”
x
her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.”
the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass.
“why not?” the mermaid asks.
“he’ll win,” the first mate says.
the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks.
x
the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her.
“don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.”
x
the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape.
“let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.”
they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her.
she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings.
the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone.
x
she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea.
x
“you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her.
she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise.
“i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.”
the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. 
“we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either.
“i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time.
“guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.”
“without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?”
“i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?”
“of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.”
x
the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid.
“you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock.
the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy.
“they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.”
“and now?”
“they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?”
the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.”

She protects her family.

Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817
That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there!




HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER

cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the g...

tears: I’ll buy your tears.
tears: I’ll buy your tears.

I’ll buy your tears.

tears: Cried real thug tears watching this as a kid by izimdreamin93 MORE MEMES
tears: Cried real thug tears watching this as a kid by izimdreamin93
MORE MEMES

Cried real thug tears watching this as a kid by izimdreamin93 MORE MEMES

tears: stellarsteele: Here is a preview of my first book ever! I am planning on releasing the full book very soon. Let me know what you think :))). Prologue            My name is Eva. I had one boyfriend in high school who turned out to be a disappointment. After breaking up with him, he kept sending me creepy messages on social media. I did what any girl would do—I blocked him.            I am anxious for another romantic experience with a different outcome. I thought college would be my chance, but this pandemic swooped in and fucked everything up. My ideal is a cute guy who is sensitive and provides me with unconditional love. I want to have deep conversations with him too. Physical appearance isn’t my greatest asset: I am not ugly, but not gorgeous. Sometimes guys at parties tell me that I’m charming and a good listener though. I would much rather be kissed than told these things, but I’ve learned to work with what I have. I must admit, I’m hard on myself. My roommate Emma has a lot of hookups and I always feel below her. She still complains about the absence of dateable guys which makes me feel better about my lack of success. I should mention my parents because I am going to be stuck with them for a while. They are strange as fuck. My dad is a classic nerd and my mother was wild in college. I’m pretty sure that she did cocaine at a party in college once. I honestly couldn’t tell you how they ended up together. I have no idea what to expect from this quarantine. I’m going to try to be productive and stay positive. Maybe, something good will come out of this. I’ve already improved my personal hygiene—it’s hard to stay super hygienic in college. I’ve been eating a lot healthier too since college cafeterias are no longer part of my daily routine. I also have a good excuse for being single. I’m going to take this time to find out more about myself. Maybe a boyfriend isn’t what I need right now. Although, if a cute guy were to enter my life right now, I am not sure I would be able to refuse him. Even if he got me infected… Day 1            My quarantine hasn’t been too bad so far. I started off by cleaning my room: I found a lot of dust under my bed and on my windows that desperately needed attention. My closet was a disaster too. I found a ton of clothes that haven’t fit me since middle school.            After, I went for a run in my neighborhood and discovered that my neighbors were completely disregarding the social distancing protocol. I didn’t heckle them or anything for disobeying the rules, but I was disappointed. You really discover who people really are when the world goes to shit.            I laid on my bed for a while and ended up reading an entire book. I haven’t been committed to a book like that since the Harry Potter books. I was lowkey impressed with myself. After, I fell asleep for a couple hours. I have a feeling that naps are going to be a big part of my daily routine even if I try to resist them.            Next, I checked my school email and discovered that all my classes are moving to a virtual platform called Zoom. I have no idea how virtual chemistry labs are going to work. Hopefully, my professor will save everyone the stress and give us all an A.            I checked my Instagram feed and ended up making a clever post. I got the most likes I have ever gotten which was satisfying. I am going to try to be more regular with my social media posts. Now, I’m sitting at my desk listening to The Weeknd’s new album. I love his angelic voice and atmospheric beats. I’m trying to come up with a list of goals for myself for quarantine: read a book; try to spend more time with my parents; do yoga 3 times per week; post regularly on social media; get laid. This is probably influenced by The Weeknd’s erotic music, but sex does sound nice right now.            It sounds so nice that I grab my dildo out of my drawer and take my pants off. I slide it slowly into my vagina at first and gradually increase the speed. I imagine my ideal guy on top of me, penetrating me and whispering dirty things in my ear. I am getting so wet. It is surprising how responsive I am to this little toy. Using my other hand, I start massaging my clit. Now, I’m forcefully moving the dildo in and out of my pussy. In my mind, my ideal man is caressing my back and clapping my cheeks hard as fuck. I start moaning and eventually I come all over my bed sheets. The initial pleasure from the orgasm quickly wears off. Instead of feeling blissful, I feel ashamed of myself for not finding a man since high school. The loneliness is suffocating. I feel myself sinking into my bed, drowning in my tears slowly. Everyone seems to have found someone except for me.
tears: stellarsteele:
Here is a preview of my first book ever! I am planning on releasing the full book very soon. Let me know what you think :))).
Prologue
            My name is Eva. I had one boyfriend in high school who turned
out to be a disappointment. After breaking up with him, he kept sending me
creepy messages on social media. I did what any girl would do—I blocked him. 
            I am anxious for another romantic
experience with a different outcome. I thought college would be my chance, but
this pandemic swooped in and fucked everything up.
My ideal is a cute guy who is sensitive and provides me with
unconditional love. I want to have deep conversations with him too. 
Physical appearance isn’t my greatest asset: I am not ugly,
but not gorgeous. Sometimes guys at parties tell me that I’m charming and a
good listener though. I would much rather be kissed than told these things, but
I’ve learned to work with what I have.
I must admit, I’m hard on myself. My roommate Emma has a lot
of hookups and I always feel below her. She still complains about the absence
of dateable guys which makes me feel better about my lack of success. 
I should mention my parents because I am going to be stuck
with them for a while. They are strange as fuck. My dad is a classic nerd and my
mother was wild in college. I’m pretty sure that she did cocaine at a party in
college once. I honestly couldn’t tell you how they ended up together.
I have no idea what to expect from this quarantine. I’m going
to try to be productive and stay positive. Maybe, something good will come out
of this. I’ve already improved my personal hygiene—it’s hard to stay super
hygienic in college. I’ve been eating a lot healthier too since college
cafeterias are no longer part of my daily routine. 
I also have a good excuse for being single. I’m going to take
this time to find out more about myself. Maybe a boyfriend isn’t what I need
right now. 
Although, if a cute guy were to enter my life right now, I am
not sure I would be able to refuse him. Even if he got me infected…
Day 1
            My quarantine hasn’t been too bad so far. I started off by
cleaning my room: I found a lot of dust under my bed and on my windows that
desperately needed attention. My closet was a disaster too. I found a ton of
clothes that haven’t fit me since middle school. 
            After, I went for a run in my
neighborhood and discovered that my neighbors were completely disregarding the social
distancing protocol. I didn’t heckle them or anything for disobeying the rules,
but I was disappointed. You really discover who people really are when the
world goes to shit.
            I laid on my bed for a while and
ended up reading an entire book. I haven’t been committed to a book like that
since the Harry Potter books. I was lowkey impressed with myself. After, I fell
asleep for a couple hours. I have a feeling that naps are going to be a big
part of my daily routine even if I try to resist them. 
            Next, I checked my school email and
discovered that all my classes are moving to a virtual platform called Zoom. I
have no idea how virtual chemistry labs are going to work. Hopefully, my professor
will save everyone the stress and give us all an A.
            I checked my Instagram feed and
ended up making a clever post. I got the most likes I have ever gotten which
was satisfying. I am going to try to be more regular with my social media
posts.
Now, I’m sitting at my desk listening to The Weeknd’s new
album. I love his angelic voice and atmospheric beats. I’m trying to come up
with a list of goals for myself for quarantine: read a book; try to spend more
time with my parents; do yoga 3 times per week; post regularly on social media;
get laid. 
This is probably influenced by The Weeknd’s erotic music, but
sex does sound nice right now. 
            It sounds so nice that I grab
my dildo out of my drawer and take my pants off. I slide it slowly into my
vagina at first and gradually increase the speed. I imagine my ideal guy on top
of me, penetrating me and whispering dirty things in my ear. I am getting so
wet. It is surprising how responsive I am to this little toy. Using my other
hand, I start massaging my clit. Now, I’m forcefully moving the dildo in and
out of my pussy. In my mind, my ideal man is caressing my back and clapping my
cheeks hard as fuck. I start moaning and eventually I come all over my bed
sheets. 
The initial pleasure from the orgasm quickly wears off.
Instead of feeling blissful, I feel ashamed of myself for not finding a man
since high school. The loneliness is suffocating. I feel myself sinking into my
bed, drowning in my tears slowly. Everyone seems to have found someone except
for me.

stellarsteele: Here is a preview of my first book ever! I am planning on releasing the full book very soon. Let me know what you think :)...

tears: stellarsteele: Here is a preview of my first book ever! I am planning on releasing the full book very soon. Let me know what you think :))). Prologue            My name is Eva. I had one boyfriend in high school who turned out to be a disappointment. After breaking up with him, he kept sending me creepy messages on social media. I did what any girl would do—I blocked him.            I am anxious for another romantic experience with a different outcome. I thought college would be my chance, but this pandemic swooped in and fucked everything up. My ideal is a cute guy who is sensitive and provides me with unconditional love. I want to have deep conversations with him too. Physical appearance isn’t my greatest asset: I am not ugly, but not gorgeous. Sometimes guys at parties tell me that I’m charming and a good listener though. I would much rather be kissed than told these things, but I’ve learned to work with what I have. I must admit, I’m hard on myself. My roommate Emma has a lot of hookups and I always feel below her. She still complains about the absence of dateable guys which makes me feel better about my lack of success. I should mention my parents because I am going to be stuck with them for a while. They are strange as fuck. My dad is a classic nerd and my mother was wild in college. I’m pretty sure that she did cocaine at a party in college once. I honestly couldn’t tell you how they ended up together. I have no idea what to expect from this quarantine. I’m going to try to be productive and stay positive. Maybe, something good will come out of this. I’ve already improved my personal hygiene—it’s hard to stay super hygienic in college. I’ve been eating a lot healthier too since college cafeterias are no longer part of my daily routine. I also have a good excuse for being single. I’m going to take this time to find out more about myself. Maybe a boyfriend isn’t what I need right now. Although, if a cute guy were to enter my life right now, I am not sure I would be able to refuse him. Even if he got me infected… Day 1            My quarantine hasn’t been too bad so far. I started off by cleaning my room: I found a lot of dust under my bed and on my windows that desperately needed attention. My closet was a disaster too. I found a ton of clothes that haven’t fit me since middle school.            After, I went for a run in my neighborhood and discovered that my neighbors were completely disregarding the social distancing protocol. I didn’t heckle them or anything for disobeying the rules, but I was disappointed. You really discover who people really are when the world goes to shit.            I laid on my bed for a while and ended up reading an entire book. I haven’t been committed to a book like that since the Harry Potter books. I was lowkey impressed with myself. After, I fell asleep for a couple hours. I have a feeling that naps are going to be a big part of my daily routine even if I try to resist them.            Next, I checked my school email and discovered that all my classes are moving to a virtual platform called Zoom. I have no idea how virtual chemistry labs are going to work. Hopefully, my professor will save everyone the stress and give us all an A.            I checked my Instagram feed and ended up making a clever post. I got the most likes I have ever gotten which was satisfying. I am going to try to be more regular with my social media posts. Now, I’m sitting at my desk listening to The Weeknd’s new album. I love his angelic voice and atmospheric beats. I’m trying to come up with a list of goals for myself for quarantine: read a book; try to spend more time with my parents; do yoga 3 times per week; post regularly on social media; get laid. This is probably influenced by The Weeknd’s erotic music, but sex does sound nice right now.            It sounds so nice that I grab my dildo out of my drawer and take my pants off. I slide it slowly into my vagina at first and gradually increase the speed. I imagine my ideal guy on top of me, penetrating me and whispering dirty things in my ear. I am getting so wet. It is surprising how responsive I am to this little toy. Using my other hand, I start massaging my clit. Now, I’m forcefully moving the dildo in and out of my pussy. In my mind, my ideal man is caressing my back and clapping my cheeks hard as fuck. I start moaning and eventually I come all over my bed sheets. The initial pleasure from the orgasm quickly wears off. Instead of feeling blissful, I feel ashamed of myself for not finding a man since high school. The loneliness is suffocating. I feel myself sinking into my bed, drowning in my tears slowly. Everyone seems to have found someone except for me.
tears: stellarsteele:
Here is a preview of my first book ever! I am planning on releasing the full book very soon. Let me know what you think :))).
Prologue
            My name is Eva. I had one boyfriend in high school who turned
out to be a disappointment. After breaking up with him, he kept sending me
creepy messages on social media. I did what any girl would do—I blocked him. 
            I am anxious for another romantic
experience with a different outcome. I thought college would be my chance, but
this pandemic swooped in and fucked everything up.
My ideal is a cute guy who is sensitive and provides me with
unconditional love. I want to have deep conversations with him too. 
Physical appearance isn’t my greatest asset: I am not ugly,
but not gorgeous. Sometimes guys at parties tell me that I’m charming and a
good listener though. I would much rather be kissed than told these things, but
I’ve learned to work with what I have.
I must admit, I’m hard on myself. My roommate Emma has a lot
of hookups and I always feel below her. She still complains about the absence
of dateable guys which makes me feel better about my lack of success. 
I should mention my parents because I am going to be stuck
with them for a while. They are strange as fuck. My dad is a classic nerd and my
mother was wild in college. I’m pretty sure that she did cocaine at a party in
college once. I honestly couldn’t tell you how they ended up together.
I have no idea what to expect from this quarantine. I’m going
to try to be productive and stay positive. Maybe, something good will come out
of this. I’ve already improved my personal hygiene—it’s hard to stay super
hygienic in college. I’ve been eating a lot healthier too since college
cafeterias are no longer part of my daily routine. 
I also have a good excuse for being single. I’m going to take
this time to find out more about myself. Maybe a boyfriend isn’t what I need
right now. 
Although, if a cute guy were to enter my life right now, I am
not sure I would be able to refuse him. Even if he got me infected…
Day 1
            My quarantine hasn’t been too bad so far. I started off by
cleaning my room: I found a lot of dust under my bed and on my windows that
desperately needed attention. My closet was a disaster too. I found a ton of
clothes that haven’t fit me since middle school. 
            After, I went for a run in my
neighborhood and discovered that my neighbors were completely disregarding the social
distancing protocol. I didn’t heckle them or anything for disobeying the rules,
but I was disappointed. You really discover who people really are when the
world goes to shit.
            I laid on my bed for a while and
ended up reading an entire book. I haven’t been committed to a book like that
since the Harry Potter books. I was lowkey impressed with myself. After, I fell
asleep for a couple hours. I have a feeling that naps are going to be a big
part of my daily routine even if I try to resist them. 
            Next, I checked my school email and
discovered that all my classes are moving to a virtual platform called Zoom. I
have no idea how virtual chemistry labs are going to work. Hopefully, my professor
will save everyone the stress and give us all an A.
            I checked my Instagram feed and
ended up making a clever post. I got the most likes I have ever gotten which
was satisfying. I am going to try to be more regular with my social media
posts.
Now, I’m sitting at my desk listening to The Weeknd’s new
album. I love his angelic voice and atmospheric beats. I’m trying to come up
with a list of goals for myself for quarantine: read a book; try to spend more
time with my parents; do yoga 3 times per week; post regularly on social media;
get laid. 
This is probably influenced by The Weeknd’s erotic music, but
sex does sound nice right now. 
            It sounds so nice that I grab
my dildo out of my drawer and take my pants off. I slide it slowly into my
vagina at first and gradually increase the speed. I imagine my ideal guy on top
of me, penetrating me and whispering dirty things in my ear. I am getting so
wet. It is surprising how responsive I am to this little toy. Using my other
hand, I start massaging my clit. Now, I’m forcefully moving the dildo in and
out of my pussy. In my mind, my ideal man is caressing my back and clapping my
cheeks hard as fuck. I start moaning and eventually I come all over my bed
sheets. 
The initial pleasure from the orgasm quickly wears off.
Instead of feeling blissful, I feel ashamed of myself for not finding a man
since high school. The loneliness is suffocating. I feel myself sinking into my
bed, drowning in my tears slowly. Everyone seems to have found someone except
for me.

stellarsteele: Here is a preview of my first book ever! I am planning on releasing the full book very soon. Let me know what you think :)...

tears: stellarsteele: Here is a preview of my first book ever! I am planning on releasing the full book very soon. Let me know what you think :))). Prologue            My name is Eva. I had one boyfriend in high school who turned out to be a disappointment. After breaking up with him, he kept sending me creepy messages on social media. I did what any girl would do—I blocked him.            I am anxious for another romantic experience with a different outcome. I thought college would be my chance, but this pandemic swooped in and fucked everything up. My ideal is a cute guy who is sensitive and provides me with unconditional love. I want to have deep conversations with him too. Physical appearance isn’t my greatest asset: I am not ugly, but not gorgeous. Sometimes guys at parties tell me that I’m charming and a good listener though. I would much rather be kissed than told these things, but I’ve learned to work with what I have. I must admit, I’m hard on myself. My roommate Emma has a lot of hookups and I always feel below her. She still complains about the absence of dateable guys which makes me feel better about my lack of success. I should mention my parents because I am going to be stuck with them for a while. They are strange as fuck. My dad is a classic nerd and my mother was wild in college. I’m pretty sure that she did cocaine at a party in college once. I honestly couldn’t tell you how they ended up together. I have no idea what to expect from this quarantine. I’m going to try to be productive and stay positive. Maybe, something good will come out of this. I’ve already improved my personal hygiene—it’s hard to stay super hygienic in college. I’ve been eating a lot healthier too since college cafeterias are no longer part of my daily routine. I also have a good excuse for being single. I’m going to take this time to find out more about myself. Maybe a boyfriend isn’t what I need right now. Although, if a cute guy were to enter my life right now, I am not sure I would be able to refuse him. Even if he got me infected… Day 1            My quarantine hasn’t been too bad so far. I started off by cleaning my room: I found a lot of dust under my bed and on my windows that desperately needed attention. My closet was a disaster too. I found a ton of clothes that haven’t fit me since middle school.            After, I went for a run in my neighborhood and discovered that my neighbors were completely disregarding the social distancing protocol. I didn’t heckle them or anything for disobeying the rules, but I was disappointed. You really discover who people really are when the world goes to shit.            I laid on my bed for a while and ended up reading an entire book. I haven’t been committed to a book like that since the Harry Potter books. I was lowkey impressed with myself. After, I fell asleep for a couple hours. I have a feeling that naps are going to be a big part of my daily routine even if I try to resist them.            Next, I checked my school email and discovered that all my classes are moving to a virtual platform called Zoom. I have no idea how virtual chemistry labs are going to work. Hopefully, my professor will save everyone the stress and give us all an A.            I checked my Instagram feed and ended up making a clever post. I got the most likes I have ever gotten which was satisfying. I am going to try to be more regular with my social media posts. Now, I’m sitting at my desk listening to The Weeknd’s new album. I love his angelic voice and atmospheric beats. I’m trying to come up with a list of goals for myself for quarantine: read a book; try to spend more time with my parents; do yoga 3 times per week; post regularly on social media; get laid. This is probably influenced by The Weeknd’s erotic music, but sex does sound nice right now.            It sounds so nice that I grab my dildo out of my drawer and take my pants off. I slide it slowly into my vagina at first and gradually increase the speed. I imagine my ideal guy on top of me, penetrating me and whispering dirty things in my ear. I am getting so wet. It is surprising how responsive I am to this little toy. Using my other hand, I start massaging my clit. Now, I’m forcefully moving the dildo in and out of my pussy. In my mind, my ideal man is caressing my back and clapping my cheeks hard as fuck. I start moaning and eventually I come all over my bed sheets. The initial pleasure from the orgasm quickly wears off. Instead of feeling blissful, I feel ashamed of myself for not finding a man since high school. The loneliness is suffocating. I feel myself sinking into my bed, drowning in my tears slowly. Everyone seems to have found someone except for me.
tears: stellarsteele:
Here is a preview of my first book ever! I am planning on releasing the full book very soon. Let me know what you think :))).
Prologue
            My name is Eva. I had one boyfriend in high school who turned
out to be a disappointment. After breaking up with him, he kept sending me
creepy messages on social media. I did what any girl would do—I blocked him. 
            I am anxious for another romantic
experience with a different outcome. I thought college would be my chance, but
this pandemic swooped in and fucked everything up.
My ideal is a cute guy who is sensitive and provides me with
unconditional love. I want to have deep conversations with him too. 
Physical appearance isn’t my greatest asset: I am not ugly,
but not gorgeous. Sometimes guys at parties tell me that I’m charming and a
good listener though. I would much rather be kissed than told these things, but
I’ve learned to work with what I have.
I must admit, I’m hard on myself. My roommate Emma has a lot
of hookups and I always feel below her. She still complains about the absence
of dateable guys which makes me feel better about my lack of success. 
I should mention my parents because I am going to be stuck
with them for a while. They are strange as fuck. My dad is a classic nerd and my
mother was wild in college. I’m pretty sure that she did cocaine at a party in
college once. I honestly couldn’t tell you how they ended up together.
I have no idea what to expect from this quarantine. I’m going
to try to be productive and stay positive. Maybe, something good will come out
of this. I’ve already improved my personal hygiene—it’s hard to stay super
hygienic in college. I’ve been eating a lot healthier too since college
cafeterias are no longer part of my daily routine. 
I also have a good excuse for being single. I’m going to take
this time to find out more about myself. Maybe a boyfriend isn’t what I need
right now. 
Although, if a cute guy were to enter my life right now, I am
not sure I would be able to refuse him. Even if he got me infected…
Day 1
            My quarantine hasn’t been too bad so far. I started off by
cleaning my room: I found a lot of dust under my bed and on my windows that
desperately needed attention. My closet was a disaster too. I found a ton of
clothes that haven’t fit me since middle school. 
            After, I went for a run in my
neighborhood and discovered that my neighbors were completely disregarding the social
distancing protocol. I didn’t heckle them or anything for disobeying the rules,
but I was disappointed. You really discover who people really are when the
world goes to shit.
            I laid on my bed for a while and
ended up reading an entire book. I haven’t been committed to a book like that
since the Harry Potter books. I was lowkey impressed with myself. After, I fell
asleep for a couple hours. I have a feeling that naps are going to be a big
part of my daily routine even if I try to resist them. 
            Next, I checked my school email and
discovered that all my classes are moving to a virtual platform called Zoom. I
have no idea how virtual chemistry labs are going to work. Hopefully, my professor
will save everyone the stress and give us all an A.
            I checked my Instagram feed and
ended up making a clever post. I got the most likes I have ever gotten which
was satisfying. I am going to try to be more regular with my social media
posts.
Now, I’m sitting at my desk listening to The Weeknd’s new
album. I love his angelic voice and atmospheric beats. I’m trying to come up
with a list of goals for myself for quarantine: read a book; try to spend more
time with my parents; do yoga 3 times per week; post regularly on social media;
get laid. 
This is probably influenced by The Weeknd’s erotic music, but
sex does sound nice right now. 
            It sounds so nice that I grab
my dildo out of my drawer and take my pants off. I slide it slowly into my
vagina at first and gradually increase the speed. I imagine my ideal guy on top
of me, penetrating me and whispering dirty things in my ear. I am getting so
wet. It is surprising how responsive I am to this little toy. Using my other
hand, I start massaging my clit. Now, I’m forcefully moving the dildo in and
out of my pussy. In my mind, my ideal man is caressing my back and clapping my
cheeks hard as fuck. I start moaning and eventually I come all over my bed
sheets. 
The initial pleasure from the orgasm quickly wears off.
Instead of feeling blissful, I feel ashamed of myself for not finding a man
since high school. The loneliness is suffocating. I feel myself sinking into my
bed, drowning in my tears slowly. Everyone seems to have found someone except
for me.

stellarsteele: Here is a preview of my first book ever! I am planning on releasing the full book very soon. Let me know what you think :)...

tears: Behind every one-liner there are the tears of many
tears: Behind every one-liner there are the tears of many

Behind every one-liner there are the tears of many

tears: ups-dogs:On a dark and lonely night in the hills outside of Newberg, Oregon…a forlorn, feeble, famished, freezing, four-legged figure falters slowly towards my truck, trembling gingerly on arthritic limbs in the icy winter air.His grey muzzle and sorrowful eyes tell a sad tale of many years of hunger, pain and despair. A faint and sorrowful whimper emits from his throat as he gazes beseechingly at my bountiful box of biscuits, hoping against hope that I might ease his pangs of hunger and grant him one more night of survival by sharing a small morsel of sustenance with him.My heartstrings taut with compassion, I dig deep into my biscuit box and gently place 4 biscuits into his quivering jowls, praying with all my might that I have arrived in time to prevent his imminent starvation.And then…the magic happens.Like Popeye eating his can of spinach, an incredible transformation suddenly takes place. He is cured! The pain in his limbs is gone! His eyes sparkle! In less than a second, strength and vigor have returned to his formerly weak and malnourished body! In one bound he leaps from the steps of the truck and proceeds to to zoomies all about the yard like a puppy 12 years his junior, his speed turning him into a veritable blur, before running into the house thru his dog door. Through the living room window I see him leap up onto his spot on the couch next to the woodstove, a veritable blizzard of biscuit crumbs flying all over the lap of his human as he chomps happily away at the bounty of goodness that I have bestowed upon him. With tears of joy in my eyes I proceed to drive away, feeling a solemn pride in the knowledge that my generosity has saved this once-suffering dog from what was most certainly an imminent death from starvation. And to those of you who claim that I have merely been bamboozled and bewitched out of biscuits by a canine con artist, I say this; I am a trained professional with years of experience. Do I REALLY look like a guy who could get manipulated out of treats by a mere dog?By Scott Hodges
tears: ups-dogs:On a dark and lonely night in the hills outside of Newberg, Oregon…a forlorn, feeble, famished, freezing, four-legged figure falters slowly towards my truck, trembling gingerly on arthritic limbs in the icy winter air.His grey muzzle and sorrowful eyes tell a sad tale of many years of hunger, pain and despair. A faint and sorrowful whimper emits from his throat as he gazes beseechingly at my bountiful box of biscuits, hoping against hope that I might ease his pangs of hunger and grant him one more night of survival by sharing a small morsel of sustenance with him.My heartstrings taut with compassion, I dig deep into my biscuit box and gently place 4 biscuits into his quivering jowls, praying with all my might that I have arrived in time to prevent his imminent starvation.And then…the magic happens.Like Popeye eating his can of spinach, an incredible transformation suddenly takes place. He is cured! The pain in his limbs is gone! His eyes sparkle! In less than a second, strength and vigor have returned to his formerly weak and malnourished body! In one bound he leaps from the steps of the truck and proceeds to to zoomies all about the yard like a puppy 12 years his junior, his speed turning him into a veritable blur, before running into the house thru his dog door. Through the living room window I see him leap up onto his spot on the couch next to the woodstove, a veritable blizzard of biscuit crumbs flying all over the lap of his human as he chomps happily away at the bounty of goodness that I have bestowed upon him. With tears of joy in my eyes I proceed to drive away, feeling a solemn pride in the knowledge that my generosity has saved this once-suffering dog from what was most certainly an imminent death from starvation. And to those of you who claim that I have merely been bamboozled and bewitched out of biscuits by a canine con artist, I say this; I am a trained professional with years of experience. Do I REALLY look like a guy who could get manipulated out of treats by a mere dog?By Scott Hodges

ups-dogs:On a dark and lonely night in the hills outside of Newberg, Oregon…a forlorn, feeble, famished, freezing, four-legged figure fal...

tears: powerburial: yg-ou: i’m nearly in tears over this ad Please….you must remember. Youre the only one who can stop him
tears: powerburial:
yg-ou:

i’m nearly in tears over this ad

Please….you must remember. Youre the only one who can stop him

powerburial: yg-ou: i’m nearly in tears over this ad Please….you must remember. Youre the only one who can stop him

tears: Tears me up every single time
tears: Tears me up every single time

Tears me up every single time

tears: Tears me up every single time
tears: Tears me up every single time

Tears me up every single time

tears: tkthegoddess: okayysophia: socialistexan: warriormale: dragonsrequiem: whyyoustabbedme: Men not being allowed to be emotional & rampant homophobia are the reasons men commit suicide 3.5x more than women… most men are given no outlet to feel feelings. To the point that they kill themselves. This is a strong man who has been pushed to his limit. There is no shame in this man weeping, just as there is no shame in getting comfort from his brother. This does not make him any less manly or any weaker. The strength in this video clip is stunningly, perfectly manly to me. @warriormale could you please chime in? Showing emotions i.e. crying shows that you’re human. All humans cry. I’ve seen very tough fighters cry. Crying makes Men human. WarriorMale For context: NY Giants wide receiver Odell Beckham, the player that is crying, was brought to tears after seeing a teammate, linebacker Johnathon Casillas, sustain a pretty scary neck injury. The player consoling him is the Giants Punter, Brad Wing. The two are close friends and were teammates both in college at LSU and then professionally on the Giants. Odell is one of the best wide receivers in the league right now, potentially of all time, and a bunch of toxic men that did nothing with their lives won’t even let him have human emotion. Imagine what they do to each other. They only talk about mental health when someone finally dies. Let people express their emotions. This is important.💋
tears: tkthegoddess:

okayysophia:

socialistexan:

warriormale:

dragonsrequiem:

whyyoustabbedme:
Men not being allowed to be emotional & rampant homophobia are the reasons men commit suicide 3.5x more than women… most men are given no outlet to feel feelings. To the point that they kill themselves.

This is a strong man who has been pushed to his limit. There is no shame in this man weeping, just as there is no shame in getting comfort from his brother. This does not make him any less manly or any weaker. The strength in this video clip is stunningly, perfectly manly to me. @warriormale could you please chime in?

Showing emotions i.e. crying shows that you’re human.
All humans cry.
I’ve seen very tough fighters cry.
Crying makes Men human.
WarriorMale

For context: NY Giants wide receiver Odell Beckham, the player that is crying, was brought to tears after seeing a teammate, linebacker Johnathon Casillas, sustain a pretty scary neck injury. 
The player consoling him is the Giants Punter, Brad Wing. The two are close friends and were teammates both in college at LSU and then professionally on the Giants.  
Odell is one of the best wide receivers in the league right now, potentially of all time, and a bunch of toxic men that did nothing with their lives won’t even let him have human emotion. Imagine what they do to each other.


They only talk about mental health when someone finally dies. Let people express their emotions. 


This is important.💋

tkthegoddess: okayysophia: socialistexan: warriormale: dragonsrequiem: whyyoustabbedme: Men not being allowed to be emotional & ramp...

tears: shed1nja: salty-sadness22: kintatsujo: pretentioussongtitle: disease-danger-darkness-silence: captainroxythefoxy: e-v-roslyn: guu: kuruluv: catwithaknife: https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/kzqpd9/heres-an-insane-story-about-a-rogue-music-teacher-cutting-a-kids-hair what the fuck i’m just gonna take this post for a moment so i can rant but like i Hate how entitled adults can feel over a child’s hair! it started when i was young myself, i wanted a mohawk, but my dad didn’t approve of that look on a “girl”, and insisted i’d regret such a bold cut. at 16 i was finally given full autonomy over my own head. but then i have a son and everyone around us is trying to keep his hair short. when we finally moved out just me my partner and him, i told him he doesn’t need to get any haircuts he doesn’t want. so he starts growing it out, it’s still short but coming on mid-length. his teacher makes a point to tell me it’s getting long as if i don’t have eyes. i hear her walking out with him one day talking to him about haircuts, as if to coax him into one. eventually i get child services called on me for ‘forcing a transgender lifestyle’ over what i can only assume is from a combination of me drawing cute ponies on his valentine box and letting him go to school in a ponytail. he kept it short for awhile after but told me he wanted to grow it out again, so i let him of course. he comes home one day after getting a haircut at his grandpa’s and tells me he didn’t Want the haircut. i ask why he got it then and learned he was bribed with a promise of a surprise IF he cut his hair. tl;dr people need to back the hell up off of children and let them have owership of what’s on THEIR body! /rant Same thing about getting a child to curl or straighten their hair. Or do anything with it. Just let kids have control over their bodies. This happened to me when I was little too!! Growing up I had naturally tight Shirley Temple curls. The only problem was that you can’t get a hair brush through it if your life depended on it until it grew out over a few years. but This One Lady from church decided that leaving my hair messy and curly was child abuse and threatened to call social services on my family every damn time she saw me until one day she was the designated kid watcher and ho boy my momma tells me i came out with tears in my eyes and greasy slicked down hair and that’s where she ends the story because i think my mother beat her ass but yeah. Leave kids hair alone. I’m going to be honest, parents who are super-controlling of their children’s hair creep me the fuck out and I’m not entirely certain why except that I get a vague feeling they kind of relegate them to, “annoying talking doll” status. I loved my daughter’s long blond hair. It was thick and wavy and beautiful but when she told me she wanted it cut short ‘like a boy’(she was four)  I took her to the salon and let her whack it off.  The stylist was skeptical, ‘are you sure?” and the thing is, she said this to me, not my daughter. So I asked my girl ‘are you sure you want it cut short?’ She was. The hair went. The stylist acted nervous most of the way through like she was waiting for one of us to burst into tears, but it looked cute! And my daughter loved it! (And it’s been short ever since.) Autonomy over your hair is bodily autonomy and we as a culture need to start holding bodily autonomy as sacred My family, for years, wouldn’t let me dye/cut my hair really short. I could understand the dye, but the shortest they’d let me go is a bob. They even let me dye my hair before letting me go that short. I’m finally in control of my hair and my hair is one of my favorite things about myself. It’s an easy way to express myself. Let kids do what they want with their hair! Let them have fun with their hair before they’re told to grow up and have ‘professional’ hair! My mom had a monopoly over my hair. Wouldn’t let me wear it natural, was obsessed with me having flyaways in the front and wouldn’t let me get out of the car in the mornings until they were flat, permed it when I was 10, wouldn’t let me cut it off for years after even though it was really damaged, vocally disapproved when I finally cut it as short as she’d let me. When I moved out I stopped putting any heat in it and a few years later I cut it all off again. The second cut was my decision alone and it felt like a weight lifted off me, like no one could ever tell me what to do with it again or tell me “I needed it” to be pretty. My stepfather and his stepfather forced a hair cut on me 10 years ago because they said i was too girly for their tastes.I grew my hair out ever since because ill never go fucking bald again like those two fucking neo nazis
tears: shed1nja:
salty-sadness22:

kintatsujo:

pretentioussongtitle:

disease-danger-darkness-silence:

captainroxythefoxy:

e-v-roslyn:

guu:

kuruluv:

catwithaknife:

https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/kzqpd9/heres-an-insane-story-about-a-rogue-music-teacher-cutting-a-kids-hair

what the fuck

i’m just gonna take this post for a moment so i can rant but like
i Hate how entitled adults can feel over a child’s hair!
it started when i was young myself, i wanted a mohawk, but my dad didn’t approve of that look on a “girl”, and insisted i’d regret such a bold cut. at 16 i was finally given full autonomy over my own head.
but then i have a son and everyone around us is trying to keep his hair short. when we finally moved out just me my partner and him, i told him he doesn’t need to get any haircuts he doesn’t want.
so he starts growing it out, it’s still short but coming on mid-length. his teacher makes a point to tell me it’s getting long as if i don’t have eyes. i hear her walking out with him one day talking to him about haircuts, as if to coax him into one. eventually i get child services called on me for ‘forcing a transgender lifestyle’ over what i can only assume is from a combination of me drawing cute ponies on his valentine box and letting him go to school in a ponytail.
he kept it short for awhile after but told me he wanted to grow it out again, so i let him of course. he comes home one day after getting a haircut at his grandpa’s and tells me he didn’t Want the haircut.
i ask why he got it then and learned he was bribed with a promise of a surprise IF he cut his hair.
tl;dr people need to back the hell up off of children and let them have owership of what’s on THEIR body! /rant


Same thing about getting a child to curl or straighten their hair. Or do anything with it. Just let kids have control over their bodies.


This happened to me when I was little too!! Growing up I had naturally tight Shirley Temple curls. The only problem was that you can’t get a hair brush through it if your life depended on it until it grew out over a few years. 
but This One Lady from church decided that leaving my hair messy and curly was child abuse and threatened to call social services on my family every damn time she saw me until one day she was the designated kid watcher and ho boy my momma tells me i came out with tears in my eyes and greasy slicked down hair and that’s where she ends the story because i think my mother beat her ass but yeah.
Leave kids hair alone.

I’m going to be honest, parents who are super-controlling of their children’s hair creep me the fuck out and I’m not entirely certain why except that I get a vague feeling they kind of relegate them to, “annoying talking doll” status.

I loved my daughter’s long blond hair. It was thick and wavy and beautiful but when she told me she wanted it cut short ‘like a boy’(she was four)  I took her to the salon and let her whack it off. 
The stylist was skeptical, ‘are you sure?” and the thing is, she said this to me, not my daughter. So I asked my girl ‘are you sure you want it cut short?’ She was. The hair went. The stylist acted nervous most of the way through like she was waiting for one of us to burst into tears, but it looked cute! And my daughter loved it! (And it’s been short ever since.)

Autonomy over your hair is bodily autonomy and we as a culture need to start holding bodily autonomy as sacred

My family, for years, wouldn’t let me dye/cut my hair really short. I could understand the dye, but the shortest they’d let me go is a bob. They even let me dye my hair before letting me go that short. I’m finally in control of my hair and my hair is one of my favorite things about myself. It’s an easy way to express myself.  
 Let kids do what they want with their hair! Let them have fun with their hair before they’re told to grow up and have ‘professional’ hair! 

My mom had a monopoly over my hair. Wouldn’t let me wear it natural, was obsessed with me having flyaways in the front and wouldn’t let me get out of the car in the mornings until they were flat, permed it when I was 10, wouldn’t let me cut it off for years after even though it was really damaged, vocally disapproved when I finally cut it as short as she’d let me.
When I moved out I stopped putting any heat in it and a few years later I cut it all off again. The second cut was my decision alone and it felt like a weight lifted off me, like no one could ever tell me what to do with it again or tell me “I needed it” to be pretty.



My stepfather and his stepfather forced a hair cut on me 10 years ago because they said i was too girly for their tastes.I grew my hair out ever since because ill never go fucking bald again like those two fucking neo nazis

shed1nja: salty-sadness22: kintatsujo: pretentioussongtitle: disease-danger-darkness-silence: captainroxythefoxy: e-v-roslyn: guu:...

tears: turing-tested: i say this with no exaggeration but seeing this in a childrens cartoon brought me to tears
tears: turing-tested:

i say this with no exaggeration but seeing this in a childrens cartoon brought me to tears

turing-tested: i say this with no exaggeration but seeing this in a childrens cartoon brought me to tears

tears: ironwoman359: cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the golden age of piracy ended. The first mermaid to get tattoos :) “we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?” “kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes. “we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.” “i know.” x “daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.” her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her. “daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor. “don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing. x “father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?” “your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.” she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says. x “why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam. “we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.” she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family. “it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.” x her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.” the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass. “why not?” the mermaid asks. “he’ll win,” the first mate says. the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks. x the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her. “don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.” x the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape. “let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.” they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her. she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings. the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone. x she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea. x “you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her. she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise. “i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.” the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. “we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either. “i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time. “guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.” “without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?” “i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?” “of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.” x the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid. “you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock. the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy. “they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.” “and now?” “they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?” the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.” She protects her family. Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817 That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there! HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER I love this
tears: ironwoman359:
cereusblue:

unnameablethings:


dragonsateyourtoast:

redporkpadthai:

dragonsateyourtoast:

otherwindow:

otherwindow:
This is how the golden age of piracy ended.
The first mermaid to get tattoos :)


“we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?”
“kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes.
“we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.”
“i know.”
x
“daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.”
her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her.
“daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor.
“don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing.
x
“father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?”
“your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.”
she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says.
x
“why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam.
“we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.”
she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family.
“it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.”
x
her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.”
the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass.
“why not?” the mermaid asks.
“he’ll win,” the first mate says.
the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks.
x
the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her.
“don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.”
x
the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape.
“let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.”
they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her.
she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings.
the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone.
x
she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea.
x
“you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her.
she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise.
“i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.”
the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. 
“we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either.
“i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time.
“guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.”
“without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?”
“i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?”
“of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.”
x
the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid.
“you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock.
the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy.
“they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.”
“and now?”
“they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?”
the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.”

She protects her family.

Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817
That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there!




HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER



I love this

ironwoman359: cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: Th...

tears: reverseracism: inallsimplicity: I love this. I won’t lie I’m shedding a few tears right now
tears: reverseracism:

inallsimplicity:

I love this.

I won’t lie I’m shedding a few tears right now

reverseracism: inallsimplicity: I love this. I won’t lie I’m shedding a few tears right now

tears: Laughing through the tears
tears: Laughing through the tears

Laughing through the tears

tears: It always ends in tears. (via /r/BlackPeopleTwitter)
tears: It always ends in tears. (via /r/BlackPeopleTwitter)

It always ends in tears. (via /r/BlackPeopleTwitter)

tears: It always ends in tears. by ihazone MORE MEMES
tears: It always ends in tears. by ihazone
MORE MEMES

It always ends in tears. by ihazone MORE MEMES

tears: *holds back happy tears*
tears: *holds back happy tears*

*holds back happy tears*

tears: *holds back happy tears*
tears: *holds back happy tears*

*holds back happy tears*

tears: Blood or tears?
tears: Blood or tears?

Blood or tears?