I am not a human being; I am a human becoming.

 

trying-to-resonate-concrete:

"I would have preferred this writer explore these ideas" is an opinion.

"This writer has trouble with certain aspects of story-telling" is a criticism.

"This writer sucks and is talentless" is a mean-spirited insult.

"This writer should die" is a vile, shitty thing for which there is no excuse for saying.

Please learn the difference and please don’t pretend you’re doing one of the two former when you’re doing one of the two latter.

I AM SO FUCKING SICK OF THE NOTION THAT ONLY THOSE WHO DON’T WANT POWER ARE DESERVING OF IT.

Occasionally it works out, fine, but someone who doesn’t have a passion for leadership is going to do very poorly at the top. Because that shit’s hard, it is ungodly hard, and only if you’re truly committed to it are you going to be any good at it. Someone who just accidents their way into it is going to drop the ball, not to mention the fact that they haven’t prepared themselves for the task, so they’re untrained and untried.

Ambition is not a bad thing. Ambition for power is not a bad thing. Being ruthless and cutthroat and amoral, sure, but not ambitious.

And yet again and again and again and again and again I see books where only the person who doesn’t want the job is considered good enough to have it. And I think it’s born out of this idea that ambition is evil, but at the same time they need to be in charge for the story to work, so we end up with this fucking trope that is literally the opposite of sense-making.

THEORIES ABOUT THE UNIVERSE



I am trying to see things in perspective.
My dog wants a bite of my peanut butter
chocolate chip bagel. I know she cannot
have this, because chocolate makes dogs
very sick. My dog does not understand this.
She pouts and wraps herself around my leg
like a scarf and purrs and tries to convince me
to give her just a tiny bit. When I do not give in,
she eventually gives up and lays in the corner,
under the piano, drooping and sad. I hope the
universe has my best interest in mind like I have
my dogs. When I want something with my whole
being, and the universe withholds it from me,
I hope the universe thinks to herself: "Silly girl.
She thinks this is what she wants, but she
does not understand how it will hurt.

THEORIES ABOUT THE UNIVERSE by Blythe Baird - blythebrooklyn (via perfect)

1. When the man at the bus stop burns holes in your skin raise your armour darling, your words are your weapons - tell him you are not a piece of meat, and his masculinity does not make him a lion. Darling, you are not his to prey on.

2. When the men in the car speeding down the road hurl fowl profanities at you, remember that this is not a show but your life and you are not an attraction for their eyes to feast upon.

3. Darling, a few years from now when your daughter comes home with warm tears running down her cheeks please remember that her shelter has not yet been built and she will allow you to enter for now - appreciate this, use this wisely. Do not allow her to go to bed with self-hatred in her veins and self-blame in her heart. Pay no mind to her attire, draw her attention away. Teach her that her outfit is not her consent. Teach her that her voice matters. Teach her to roar. Your words will echo in her mind and years from then her daughter will hear the same echo. You are a part of a movement. You are creating an army of powerful women. Darling, put on your war paint.

4. Baby, you are not a delicate flower, you are a lioness who’s beauty is in her self-belief, in her self-worth and in your ability to survive in a world where the odds are against you.

5. You are the sun’s burning rays.

6. You are the moon’s gentle glow.

7. Put on your war paint.

7 Things To Remember, writing by m.k. (via inkstainedfallacy)

andmiralampersand:

r-u-thunderstorms:

The Cloisters at Gloucester Cathedral

THIS IS THE BEST VERSION OF PHOTOGRAPHS INTEGRATING PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE SAME PLACE THAT HAS EVER EXISTED

http://youarebeingshaggedbyarareparrot.tumblr.com/post/90883829130/give-me-slytherins-in-dumbledores-army-give-me

youarebeingshaggedbyarareparrot:

Give me Slytherins in Dumbledore’s Army.

Give me Slytherins vouching for and adopting muggleborn first years during the reign of the Carrows. Walking the corridors a day or two after the start of term, spotting a cornered and terrified looking Ravenclaw first year and wading in like, “Ah, there…

shslfuckurmorals:

but imagine at every Hogwarts party there’s a group of Hufflepuffs who don’t drink because once the party is over they walk the super drunk students home and help them to their dorms and make sure they don’t vomit on any paintings and they answer the riddle for the Ravenclaws or tap the tune for Hufflepuffs and make sure to get the passwords for Slytherins and Gryffindors and they’re just overall sweeties.