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246 notes

lovurs:

today in ap english we were reading an excerpt from a book and the girl puts herself out there to find a man if you know what i mean and the teacher was explaining it and a boy was like “so she’s a hoe” and he opened his mouth to answer but i was faster and i was like “isn’t it…

119,411 notes

sleepingwiththesea:

don’t be a little shit to me on tinder

This makes me so happy

(via bastille)

179,747 notes

theheartmaid:

prototype-the-walter-girl:

Biggest plot twist ever

I SWEAR TO GOD I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS I’VE ACTUALLY NEARLY PISSED MY PANTS

(Source: laughcentre, via wifisenpai)

81,469 notes

phandoms-united:

art-sex-drugs:

I have finally hit my breaking point. For as long as I can remember I have endured my mother’s abuse, whether it is verbal, emotional, or as seen here physical. I can expect some act of violence on a daily basis, and her beating me is not an usual occurrence, but today something snapped. My mother did this unprovoked, and this time she didn’t stop. Usually it’s bad for a little while and then she’s done, today it went on for what seemed like forever. At a certain point I decided I was going to do something I never do, call the police. You see, my mother is a highly respected and very well known person where I live. She is on the board of ed, worked for CPS for many years, and is close personal friends with people like the local chief of police, director of our local CPS unit, and so on. I always knew that calling wouldn’t go anywhere and just upset her more, but today I had to try. While she was kicking me I found my opportunity, and somehow managed to get away from someone more than twice my size. I ran as fast as I could, knocking things over behind my, trying to find a phone. I dialed and they listened and my mother proceeding to beat me over it, while I screamed for help. For the second time today, I managed to get away from her and ran to my room. I barely had enough time to lock my door, before she starting trying to get it, to the point that she ripped my door off the frame. I decided I was going to stay locked in there, until the police came. The past few months I have been collecting evidence against her, voice recordings, pictures like these, and videos of her violence, so they couldn’t dispute what was going on. But I was dead wrong. 

When the officer finally came up to my room, I attempted to tell him my side of the story, but before I could get a sentence out he silenced me. HE told me that this was my mothers house, and I needed to live by her rules. If I didn’t she had the right to punish me. He also told me to be tankful for her, because he wanted to press assault charges against me. finally, he refused, despite my begging, for him to take me to a shelter for teens. 

I am utterly disgusted by the injustice that occurred today. I pray there is no one else out there who is living in such a situation. I am not sure exactly what I am getting out of writing this, except maybe that it’s just nice to be able to open up about this, when I have had to keep it a secret my whole life. idk. sorry for posting such heavy shit. 

Signal boost the fuck out of this

(Source: kosmological, via c-u-nex-tuesday)

296 notes

shaky:

my roommate needs to calm down on her facebook

43,016 notes

mirror:

Show this gifset to anyone who asks you wtf “Tumblr” even is.

(via wifisenpai)

12,796 notes

autotrophe:

sarabatikha:

Having a best friend from the opposite gender is the best thing ever, seriously.

update: until they fall in love with you and screw your friendship up.

(via wifisenpai)

29,536 notes

sourcedumal:

thisisbobbylondon:

In response to anyone who thinks they have an fierce inner black woman in them and is not in fact, a black woman

See the thing about that fire and that “fierceness” is that it’s born out of our oppression, out of always being told that we are ugly, that our bodies are too fat or too muscular, that we don’t have the right kind of hair — and having to deconstruct all those things and tell ourselves that we are beautiful even though society is telling us that we are not.  

That strength is born out of always having to defend ourselves against white supremacy and anti-black-woman-patriachy. From years of not seeing ourselves represented in anything aligned with beauty, of buying products that are made to make us look like not ourselves.

So there is no way you could have an inner black woman in you. You have not experienced our struggle, you don’t know it, you haven’t lived it, and you can’t imagine it. 

See, you can’t sit with us, because we haven’t been able to sit at your table since our existence in this country. And while we were being excluded from your table we made our own, and it is fabulous and fly. And of course you now want to try and have a seat at our table, take our table, use it and ignore all the labor that went into creating THAT table.

But nah, sorry boo boo.

You ain’t never going to be us, you can try to wear your hair like us, you can try to dance like us, talk like us, wish you were us, but know this —

YOU-WILL-NEVER-BE-US

I swear to god if I ever see a person wearing that fucking shirt, I’m going to jail for murder.

(via akanedee)