Don't derail a post about giving Black people comfort or praise with your "EvErYoNe" bullshit. Make your own post. It isn't for you. Shut the fuck up. Period.
Three Goblin Art

Janaina Medeiros
Xuebing Du
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trying on a metaphor
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
h
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

if i look back, i am lost
ojovivo
Sade Olutola

blake kathryn
Stranger Things
d e v o n
occasionally subtle
we're not kids anymore.
Acquired Stardust
Cosmic Funnies

⁂
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@mynerdrage
Don't derail a post about giving Black people comfort or praise with your "EvErYoNe" bullshit. Make your own post. It isn't for you. Shut the fuck up. Period.
sorry im never around anymore im into wrestling now and made a whole new account lol
tomholland2013: Be in with a chance to join me, in London for an exclusive @thebrotherstrust Trivia night hosted by me…
I wish more people got this because some ‘low-empathy’ people are the most compassionate and sympathetic in the universe, and I hate it when that’s taken to mean ‘unfeeling and probably hostile’ when nothing could be further from the truth
Or, as my dad put it,
Sympathy: I know how you feel Empathy: I feel how you feel Compassion: is there anything I can do to help?
Sympathy: that sucks bro empathy: I feel that compassion: want me to send you some puppy and kitten pictures to make you feel better?
Posts like this make me feel so much better. It always seems like society treat responses to others pain as though empathy is the most important kind. I am around 85% compassionate and this post helped me not feel like I am a monster because of that for once.
Image ID: a diagram. At the top is a box containing the words “Someone in distress”. Three dotted lines are coming from it, connected to three circles. The leftmost circle is labeled “Empathy”. It contains the words “Feeling the same emotions as the other person”. The middle circle is labeled “Sympathy”. It contains the words “Feeling sorrow or concern for the other person”. The rightmost circle is labeled “Compassion”. It contains the words “Feeling care and warmth for the other person”. /end ID
Four day work weeks are coming. Every country that tests sees positive results.
Progressive ideas are better for your life. Conservatives would rather you chained to your desk, licking your boss's boots.
Job postings these days are like
Wanted: Virgin, with 3 years of sexual experience
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Re-blogging again because that comment fucking killed me
reminds me of that one story where a person ran across an add asking for five years experience in a particular code language. This person had helped create this particular code language, three years ago.
Jeph Jacques decided to go out in a blaze of shitposts and in his honor I think it's only right to share these tweets with a wider audience
goodnight, sweet prince
date a selkie, but don’t hide her cloak. let her go home and visit her family now and then, knowing that she’ll come back and hang her seal cloak in the closet like she always does. trust is important.
The first time she lets the redhead take her home, she’s diligent about hiding her cloak. She folds it carefully against tears and rips and abrasions, and hides it in a sea cave whose entrance is concealed by the tide.
She does the same, the second and third and fourth times, careful, wary, mindful of her mother’s lessons. Remembers the way her mother’s hands had chafed on her soft cheeks, rough with cooking and cleaning for her fisherman husband, the way her mother’s peat-dark eyes had been tense and harsh with the lesson.
“Mind me, Niahm. Never let them find your cloak.”
The way her mother’s mouth had curved, a sickle of dissatisfaction and relief and envy, as she had escaped into the waves.
So she minds her mother’s lesson, and she takes care with her cloak.
Would that she had taken as much care with her heart.
The fifth time, she wears the cloak to the girl’s door, clutched about her throat, dripping along the darkened lanes.
She enters the home, welcomed with soft kisses and gentle touches and kindling passion. She drapes the cloak, artful in her carelessness, across an old wooden chair, the one that creaks and tilts slightly if you don’t sit just right.
When she wakes, in the wee hours of the morning, even before her lover, the cloak still rests, supple and dappled by the sea, on the back of the chair.
She frowns into the softening dawn, dons the cloak, and returns to the sea.
And again, the sixth time. And the seventh.
The eighth time, she finally breaks, prickling and hurt with longing, gripping a handful of russet hair in her hand, firm with emphasis.
“Surely you know what I am,” she says to her lover, the cool froth of sea foam and the call of gulls curling around her voice.
“Of course,” her lover responds, soft and tender in the dawnlight, throat arched willingly, pale as the inner whorls of a shell. “You taste of the sea,” the girl whispers, reverently.
She shakes her lover’s head gently, fingers tangled still in russet locks. “Why?” she demands. “Why won’t you keep me?”
A long silence that waits and fills, like a tidepool, stretches between them. Cool as a current. Deep as the Channel.
Her lover’s eyes are dark and tender. “Must I trap you to keep you, my heart? Is that the shape of love that you desire?”
She sinks into the thought, struck and stymied, remembering her mother’s harsh hands, her cold eyes. Her hand eases into russet waves, caresses where her grip had punished. Her lips press cool and damp as the sea against the arching curve of her lover’s shoulder. “What shape of love will you give to me?”
The answer is easy, quick, certain. “Myself. Only myself, whenever you should wish it. Your cloak by the door, your body in my bed, and the freedom to go, whenever you must. As long as you wish.”
It’s not an answer a fisherman could ever give, nor would think to.
The ninth time, she hangs her cloak by the door, draped in careful dappled folds next to a drying oilskin jacket.
i say this every time it crosses my dash but i’m so freaking happy someone liked my submission and Wrote Stuff and it’s so good!!! i love these girls so so so so much
This post is like the only Worthy Thing i have ever done on this website and you made that possible, you rock <3
Cory Lee has visited 40 countries on seven continents, and yet the Georgia native has never explored Cloudland Canyon State Park, about 20 minutes from his home. His wheelchair was tough enough for the trip to Antarctica but not for the rugged terrain in his backyard.
Lee’s circumstances changed Friday, when Georgia’s Department of Natural Resources and the Aimee Copeland Foundation unveiled a fleet of all-terrain power wheelchairs for rent at 11 state parks and outdoorsy destinations, including Cloudland Canyon. The Action Trackchair models are equipped with tank-like tracks capable of traversing rocks, roots, streams and sand; clearing fallen trees; plowing through tall grass and tackling uphill climbs.
“I’ll finally be able to go on these trails for the first time in my life,” said the 32-year-old travel blogger, who shares his adventures on Curb Free with Cory Lee. “The trails are off-limits in my regular wheelchair.”
Georgia is one of the latest states to provide the Land Rover of wheelchairs to outdoor enthusiasts with mobility issues.
In 2017, Colorado Parks and Wildlife launched its Staunton State Park Track-Chair Program, which provides free adaptive equipment, though guests must pay the $10 entrance fee. Michigan’s Department of Natural Resources has placed off-road track chairs in nearly a dozen parks, including Muskegon State Park. In 2018, Lee reserved a chair at the park that boasts three miles of shoreline on Lake Michigan and Muskegon Lake. “It allowed me to have so much independence on the sand,” he said.
Mobility FTW
Just found out that back in Rome grave markers sometimes had holes in them for people to pour drinks into so new conversation starter: What would mourners pour into your grave hole
Young woman photographing her daughter and dog, circa 1900.
He’s ur friend righ t ?!? !
Hamtaro:)
Hesyour friend