aquarius @lantersinthesky - Tumblr Blog

maxximovssolo-deactivated202009

So for years black girls have had to read fanfics where y/n was automatically described as being paled skinned with long flowing hair and blue eyes. We couldn’t relate to it exactly, it excluded us, it ignored us. But we read it cause it was all that was out there. Now when we start writing fanfics for other black girls to feel included and represented, now you all are saying that you ‘‘can’t relate to it” therefore don’t support black writers when we were supporting your work all those years even though you were acting like we don’t exist within these fandoms.

quotemadness

Hell is when people you love the most reach right into your soul and rip it out of you. And they do it because they can.

Jess Rothenberg (via quotemadness)

5hiny8laze2ombie

cowpokeprose

You hate yourself so loudly. You hate yourself at the top of your lungs. Your loathing for yourself permeates your speech. “Sorry I’m just rambling.” “Don’t worry about it.” “Just ignore me.” “Sorry if I’m annoying you.” “Sorry I don’t make sense.” “Sorry about that.” Sorry, sorry, sorry. You act as if you have to beat everyone else to the punch. As if the punching bag is you. If you hate yourself first, if you hate yourself loudest, then nobody will hurt you. You clapped your hands over your ears and shut your eyes and balled yourself up so that you’d never have to experience people’s loathing for you. And it meant you never heard their love. You drowned it out. You screamed your hatred over it. And you never got to hear it.

a-bright-ray-of-sunshine

"Growth is painful. Change is painful. But nothing is as painful as staying stuck somewhere you don't belong."

—Mandy Hale

nbacademic

you know what my perfect gift would be? an annotated copy of your favourite book. i don’t just mean a couple of tabs, i mean annotated. i mean highlighted to the ends of the earth, pages black with scribbled annotations, entire pages underlined and captioned ‘THIS’. i want to see tear stains on the pages, corners bent from when you threw it across the room, spine broken because you were too absorbed in the story to care. i want paragraphs of you yelling at characters, i want your witty remarks and sarcastic comments, i want your little doodles in the margins. because then you’re not just giving me a book. you’re giving me a little piece of yourself, and i think that’s the best gift you could give.