I Hope Everyone With Acne, Eczema, Vitiligo, Psoriasis, Dermatitis, And Skin Conditions Have A Good Day

Rb if your account is safe space for

-LGBTQ+

-People from every nation

-All religions

-Dark skin people

-Asian people

-Uyghur Turks and Muslims

-People with mental disorders

-People with illness

I wanna see if this is still going on

ha?

every single person who reblogs this

every

single

person

will get “doot doot” in their ask box

Ahh I almost liked it before I read it properly and I have never gotten rid of a like before in my life

I'M DOING AN EXPERIMENT

To prove something to a friend, please

REBLOG IF YOU THINK ASEXUALS BELONG IN LGBTQ+ SPACES

LIKE IF YOU THINK ASEXUALS DON’T BELONG IN LGBTQ+ SPACES

I get the feeling I'm not good at anything. Everyone is just too polite to tell me otherwise. They don't want to see me or be around me. I'm too loud or too quiet. Too happy or too sad. To smart to some but too dumb for everyone else. Too childish. Too bossy. Too much

Why am I like this.

Why do I feel like Minecraft would be a perfect game for the sides.

I mean virgil would enjoy how calming it is. Patton would enjoy collecting animals and naming them after the others. Roman would enjoy the mob fighting and adventures and building aspect. Logan would claim that he only likes it because it keeps the others quiet but secretly loves the Redstone aspect of it

I'm sorry I just adored the new episode and had to draw my previous bois

yall really need to stop putting like. porn or semi-nudes in the wlw, butchfemme, lesbian tags etc without tagging as #nsfw or #minors dni like are you serious

Vent Post

I am leaking. I think I always have been. Not very quickly and not by a lot but I am. I can find things to cover the leak, people suggest tape glue but it's only temporary and soon enough I leak again.

Sometimes I tell people that I am leaking and they scoff looking at the leak and say "you should be happy, your leak is so small" but still I leak.

Emily doesnt believe in Love. Its a simple fact. Its a chemical reaction in the brain. A trick to feel less alone. To believe in something that is good. A stomach can not be filled with butterflies it's simply not true.

And yet.

When someone dares to interrupt her from her own world writing furiously in a notebook attempting some resemblance of a poem as the world around her crumbles. She can't find it within herself to be upset.

The girl is young. Around the same age as her she guesses. Dressed all in black the girl looks out of place on such a bright and cheery day and she tries to argue with herself that the reason she has been staring at this poor girl is exactly that. The girl is out of place. And yet that can't be true.

If it was simple confusion would she feel like a bumble bee while the sweet smell of the girls purfume comparable to nectar of the worlds most beautiful flower.

If it were confusion would she feel the caterpillars crawling their way into her stomach, looking for somewhere to live.

If it were confusion would her voice be comparable to the song of the lark in the early morning.

The girl speaks again her voice a little confused likely because she is still staring but she doesnt hear it over the burst of poetry exploding in her brain. She quickly looks back down to her paper. It doesn"t seem so hopeless anymore.

The blank spaces on the pages dont seem so plain. Instead they are filled with the girls smile, her eyes, her odd black dress. And writing has neve felt easier.

The girl sits down opposite a curious look on her face as she watches now silently as she writes, not close enough or quite at the right angle to read the words and yet she stays and watches anyway.

Hours pass.

A shout can be heard from the distance, loud and shrill. Emily looks up from her writing at that and notices the girl still sat with the same curious look on her and she blushes lightly at the realisation.

The shouting gets louder and its becoming more and more obvious what they are saying. The name Emily becoming clearer by the minuite.

She stands up wiping the grass off of her dress and spots her sister calling for her to come set the table for dinner. With a groan she agrees.

Turning back towards the girl she finds no one. A piece of her paper and a pencil in the girls place. She picks it up a smile on her face as she reads,

same time tomorrow?-Sue

Emily doesn't believe in love at first sight. It's a simple fact. But she might believe in it at the second.

Consent Education.