#overwhelmingly

The irony is that no modern president has disrespected more people than trump. He insults veterans, judges, reporters, political opponents, immigrants, allies, military leaders, and even members of his own administration when they stop praising him.

Like, it's a super cool place to find art and participate in fandom discussion, but like

Awesome as always sigyn! 😎❤️✨✨

Two posts in one day, i know, right?! (O.O)

You and so many others' constant support of my little AU means the world to me! I’ll keep the art coming just for you guys.. especially now that I'm technically on easter break! Agh.. I can never properly express how happy these asks make me 🥹💕

*Casually eats up your FNAF content, feeling refreshed and filled*

You stay awesome, always Sky! 😎✨

The Flag of Japan except it has an overwhelmingly 1970's aesthetic

Matthew: You no talk me!😾

James, ignoring him:

Matthew: Why you no talk me?🥺

James, studiously ignoring Matthew:

Matthew, springing up from his chair and going to lie in James’ lap: WHY YOU NO TALK ME😠

Tessa, comes in:

Matthew: *bursts crying* He no talk meee

Tessa:

James:

Will:

Will: Jamie

I knew a lot of things when I was five. I knew that Mr. Simpson, from the first Hornblower TV movie, was the evilest man in the world. I knew that my dad loved me even if he didn’t say it. I knew I hated the taste of watermelon.

I also knew that I was going to be a missionary in Yemen. There were no other options for me. I pulled out the XYZ volume of the family encyclopedia and read the entry on Yemen. It didn’t sound very nice. I readied myself for a rough life in foreign lands.

The thing was, I had read a book about Yemen. It said the women of Yemen were terribly oppressed, and that female missionaries had to sneak into the country to minister to the women there. It was a dangerous job. It was a job that only a girl could do.

It was, in my mind, the only reasonable explanation for why God had made me a girl. He must have known that I was a boy- God doesn’t make mistakes- so if He had gone through all the trouble of making me a girl anyway, it must have been because there was something He needed me to do that only a woman could do. There was no other option. Only Yemen would do.

Today, I told my mom about that memory. We sat down together and in a heavy, halting voice, I told her that I had been, and still am, living in a state of uncertainty regarding my gender. I told her that I had reason to believe that I had God’s blessing in this uncertainty, and that my greatest obstacle, now, was in coming to accept myself the way I knew He did. I asked her what she thought about that. She asked me to keep talking.

She asked good questions, and lots of them. I answered as best I could. She asked me if it felt weird when she called me her daughter. I said no, because it didn’t. She asked me if I was transgender, or if I wanted to change my name. No, I said, and, no, but I have a male name that’s secret, that belongs only to me. I said I wouldn’t tell her just yet, and she said that was okay.

She hugged me, told me she loved me so, so much. That she was proud that I was learning to accept the uncertainty. (We are both people who can’t bear to be uncertain about anything. It is a hereditary flaw.) She said that she didn’t understand what it felt like to feel a gender. She said that she would try.

I don’t like labels. I don’t like identifying, clarifying, classifying. But I know now that if I really am, as I’m beginning to suspect, genderqueer, then my mom will love me just the same. If I change my mind, she won’t judge me. She won’t ask me to change myself to be more, or less, like the LGBTQ ideal.