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Peter? I know things have been difficult lately and I’m sorry about that. I think I know what you’re feeling. Ever since you were a little boy, you’ve been living with so many unresolved things. Well, take it from an old man. Those things send us down a road… they make us who we are. And if anyone’s destined for greatness, it’s you, son. You owe the world your gifts. You just have to figure out how to use them and know that wherever they take you, we’ll always be here. So, come on home, Peter. You’re my hero… and I love you!


dapperasf:

a podcast recorded with a $60 dollar mic in a harlem apartment about an openly queer radio host with a poc love interest as literally the most normal part of the show made it to be the number one most dowloaded podcast in all of america and if you don’t think that’s the tightest shit you can get out of my face


agentressler:

i’m crying


“I was like, ‘Wait a minute, maybe I can be taken seriously as like a guy who’s one of the baddest dudes in the world,’ you know?” [x


vxpo:

tin-d0g:

xeansan:

camerongale:

drakensberg:

ttthegingerqueer:

Just filled out my health insurance forms!

yeah!!! fucking around with health insurance forms!!!!

I hate when people complain about “oh health forms are stupid they want my biological sex instead of my gender!!!!” or “they only have male or female!!!”

There’s a reason for that, you dumb fucks, and they’re referring to biological sex

Different health risks are present in different sexes, and whatever gender is in your head does not change the fact that if you were born female, you have a higher risk for certain cancers and osteoporosis, and if you were born male you have a higher risk for heart disease and often a shorter lifespan than a female.

In other words, your biological sex is an important factor in health and health insurance, and your special snowflake status doesn’t change that.

Coulda said it nicer but it’s true; it’s about health.

No. There gets a point where nice doesn’t work. There’s too many stupid ass angsty teens on here that are gonna get themselves seriously hurt or sick because they wanna be a special fucking snowflake. Lemme tell you a thing. Doctors don’t give a flying fuck what you identify as. All they want to know is do you have two X chromosomes or an XY? Because cancer and lupus and certain medicines don’t give a flying fuck what pronouns you use. This is about your fucking LIFE. stop being angsty for TWELVE SECONDS because when you’re in an ambulance or going into cardiac arrest or whatever the situation may be, it’s ESSENTIAL that you get your head out of your ass long enough to tell them your BIOLOGICAL SEX that you were BORN WITH. It literally may save your life.

This is so important.


The Internet is a big place where a lot of people can voice their opinions, and my mother chooses to pick fights with random people from all over the world who don’t have the nicest things to say about me.


ohmygil:

mufasamonsta:

tahthetrickster:

i really like looking at google image searches for “firemen rescuing cats” or something because you get super cute pictures like

image

image

image

image

AND THEN THERE’S THIS ONE

image

"THAT’S RIGHT TWAS I that set the house ablaze!!!”

those first two cats have seen some shit


❝ My father had taught me to be nice first, because you can always be mean later, but once you’ve been mean to someone, they won’t believe the nice anymore. So be nice, be nice, until it’s time to stop being nice, then destroy them. ❞
- Laurell K. Hamilton
A Stroke of Midnight (via drythroats)

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is eight years old, she’s got pink cheeks that her grandmother calls chubby. She wants a second cookie but her aunt says “you’ll get huge if you keep eating.” She wants a dress and the woman in the changing room says “she’ll probably need a large in that.” She wants to have dessert and her waiter says “After all that dinner you just had? You must be really hungry!” and her parents laugh.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is eleven and she is picked second-to-last in gym class. She watches a cartoon and sees that everyone who is annoying is drawn with a big wide body, all sweaty and panting. At night she dreams she is swelling like the ocean over seabeds. When she wakes up, she skips school.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is thirteen and her friends are stick-thin ballerinas with valleys between their hipbones. She is instead developing the wide curves of her mother. She says she is thick but her friends argue that she’s “muscular” and for some reason this hurts worse than just admitting that she jiggles when she walks and she’ll never be a dancer. Eating seconds of anything feels like she’s breaking some unspoken rule. The word “indulgent” starts to go along with “food.”

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is fourteen and she has stopped drinking soda and juice because they bloat you. She always takes the stairs. She fidgets when she has to sit still. Whenever she goes out for ice cream, she leaves half at the bottom - but someone else always leaves more and she feels like she’s falling. She pretends to like salad more than she does. She feels eyes burrowing through her body while she eats lunch. Kate Moss tells her nothing tastes as good as skinny feels, but she just feels like she is wilting.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is fifteen the first time her father says “you’re getting gaunt.” She rolls her eyes. She eats one meal a day but thinks she stays the same size. Every time she picks up a brownie she thinks of the people she sees on t.v. and every time she has cake, she thinks of the one million magazine articles on restricting calories. She used to have no idea a flat stomach was supposed to be beautiful until she saw advice on how to achieve it. She cuts back on everything. She controls. They tell her she’s getting too thin but she doesn’t believe it.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is sixteen and tearing herself into shreds in order for a thigh gap big enough to hush the screams in her head. She doesn’t “indulge,” ever. She can’t go out with friends, they expect her to eat. She damns her sweet tooth directly to hell. It’s coffee for breakfast and tea for lunch and if there’s dance that evening, two cups of water and then maybe an apple. She lies all the time until she thinks the words will rot her teeth. She dreams about food when she sleeps. Her aunt begs her to eat anything, even just a small cookie. They say, “One bite won’t make you fat, will it, darling?”

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is seventeen and too sick to go to prom because she can’t stand up for very long. She thinks she wouldn’t look good in a dress anyway. Her nails are blue and not because they are painted. Her hair is too thin to do anything with. She’s tired all the time and always distracted. She once absently mentions the caloric value of grapes to the boy she is with and he looks at her like she’s gone insane and in that moment she realizes most people don’t have numbers constantly scrolling in their heads. She swallows hard and tries to figure out where it all went wrong, why more than a granola bar for a meal makes her feel sick, why she tastes disease and courts with death. She misses sleep. She misses being able to dream. She misses being herself instead of just being empty.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is twenty and writes poetry and is a healthy weight and still fights down the voices every single day. She puts food in her mouth and sometimes cries about it but more and more often feels good, feels balanced. Her cheeks are pink and they are chubby and soft and no longer growing slight fur. Her hair is long and it is beautiful. She still picks herself apart in the mirror, but she’s starting to get better about it. She wears the dress she likes even if it only fits her in a large and she doesn’t feel like a failure for it. She is falling in love with the fat on her hips.

She is eating out with friends and not worrying about finding the lowest calorie item on the menu when she hears a mother tell her four year old daughter “You can’t have ice cream, we just had dinner.
You don’t want to end up as a fat little girl.”

-

Why do we constantly do this to our children? /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)

This is heartbreaking

(via emsfitjourney)


pwettykitten:

kikuneko:

( ̄▽ ̄)ノ - we don’t talk but hi~

(●⌒∇⌒●) - you fab, senpai

(◕‿◕✿) - you’re cute

o(╥﹏╥)o - you make me nervous

(´ε` )♡ - i want to kiss you

ヽ(‘ ∇‘ )ノ - i want to hug you

ヾ(-_-;) - you’re annoying

(>д<) - why won’t you notice me???

(¬д¬。) - i don’t like you, go away

(*´ェ`*) - i’m too shy to talk to you…

(´・ω・`) - ((anything you want to say/ask))

SEND ME SOME

THEME