welcome ✿ @berenice-pv - Tumblr Blog

ithelpstodream

cookie-sheet-toboggan

so is Victory

ashermajestywishes

LOVE TRIANGLE

bsparrow

Don’t forget Truth (Coming Out of Her Well to Shame Mankind)

justrollinon

This must be why the Trump administration hates them all

acciowine

The Four Horsewomen of the Trumpocalypse.

krustybunny-deactivated20221129

I’ve never reblogged anything so quick

spectrometon

The Ultimate Squad, comin’ to wreck your shit and save the world

quentineliot

Rb for that art doe

credevodivalerequalcosa

Ma l'hai capito che non serve a niente mostrarti sorridente agli occhi della gente e che il dolore serve proprio come serve la felicità.

Brunori Sas, La verità (via credevodivalerequalcosa)

ritaglietti

Brunori Sas, Il costume da torero

rainymoodselection

Visit Original Link

Beethoven - Moonlight Sonata [x]

carrow

The Marauders: A Netflix original series based on J.K Rowling’s Harry Potter series (Coming February 2018)

Before Harry Potter and his lighting scar, his father James lived his life pining after a certain redhead girl and creating a map of mystery. Join this band of mischiefs as they navigate the struggles they are faced with and discover unimaginable things.

berenice-pv

keep dreaming

dengekidream-deactivated2014041

plants are friends

online garden here

you’re plantastic

cute lil plant blog coming through

leafilly

plants&positivity

just-shower-thoughts

When I hear the phrase “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels” I assume pizza is really bad in their area.

hercuddlebear

“Today I am wearing lacy black underwear For the sole purpose of knowing I am wearing them. And underneath that? I am absolutely naked. And I’ve got skin. Miles and miles of skin; I’ve got skin to cover all my thoughts like saran wrap that you can see through to what leftovers are inside from the night before. And despite what you might think, my skin is not rough; nor is it bullet proof. My skin is soft, and smooth, and easily scarred. But that doesn’t matter, right? You don’t care about how soft my skin is. You just want to hear about what my fingers do in the dark.

But what if all they do is crack open windows? So I can see lightening through the clouds. What if all they crave is a jungle gym to climb for a taste of fresher air? What if all they reach for is a notebook or a hand to hold? But that’s not the story you want. You are licking your lips and baring your teeth.

Just once I would like to be the direction someone else is going. I don’t need to be the water in the well. I don’t need to be the well. But I’d like to not be the ground anymore. I’d like to not be the thing people dig their hands in anymore.

Some girls know all the lyrics to each other’s songs. They find harmonies in their laughter. Their linked elbows echo in tune. What if I can’t hum on key? What if my melodies are the ones nobody hears?

Some people can recognize a tree, A front yard, and know they’ve made it home. How many circles can I walk in before I give up looking? How long before I’m lost for good. It must be possible to swim in the ocean of the one you love without drowning. It must be possible to swim without becoming water yourself. But I keep swallowing what I thought was air. I keep finding stones tied to my feet.”

Hannah Baker, 13 Reason’s Why

🌸

#girl power #feminism #feminist #fight like a girl

just-shower-thoughts

I wish we had the ability to dream together with other people. Like multi-player dreaming.

superselected

finehoney

inkskinned

a secret code between women: are you safe? in a contact of eyes. i’m here if you need me, the littlest shift of a skirt, of an inclined head, of watching the man who is asking you to smile, bitch. you aren’t alone on the walls of restrooms, i was where you are too. the quiet doling of emergency numbers, the shelters. the space between two women in a largely empty train station. the waiting game of two women strangers who walk, quietly and quickly, to their cars in abandoned parking lots, who watch to be sure the other leaves safely. text me you get home safe. the tally marks of drinks on hidden wrists, carefully disguised as other things ever since men picked up on what it meant and used it to target the “weakest link.”

my father tells me we have nothing to worry about. last night he sent me one of those email chains that say at the top “Safety Tips For The Women In Your Life!!!! Don’t Let Her Die!!”

me, and the stranger on the train. she is asleep and the man is asking me who i am going home to. i feel tears pricking the sides of my eyes. i am 13 while he towers over me. he reaches out one hand, and while i don’t know how she knows, she speaks up without opening her eyes: “If you touch my daughter, sir, I will murder you.” Whatever he grumbles is lost in history, because this moment I am so grateful for the existence of other people that I cannot breathe.

I am 19 and on my phone when i become aware of a 13 year old girl is smiling nervously at a man who’s saying disgusting things. I grab her arm. “There you are, cindy,” I say, and then look at the man like he is bile. “Do you need something from my sister?” i ask, and i walk away with her. she cries later.

this is the way of things: a silent, secret web. our promise to each other that despite our differences, when it comes to the wire, we become family, instantly. the unspoken promise. i’m here. i’m watching. i’ll witness.