one of my favorite things about the rivals-to-lovers trope is when one of them, at the beginning of their relationship, grumbles about how much they hate the other person’s awful face and i sort of cackle to myself like, oh man. you’re going to have it so bad. it’s going to be so great. you are going to love the CRAP out of that awful face. you’ll be composing delicious, pining, sappy sonnets about it. i love it.
It’s so fucking weird how girls can just tell when our periods start. Like the exact fucking moment. You’re just sitting in bed or standing in line for groceries and your face does that thing kind of like in That’s so Raven when Raven gets a vision
do you ever cry because you’ve somehow managed to gain a truly fucking amazing person as your friend? and just think about how fucking blessed you are for their existence and how in some previous life you must have done something fucking amazing to deserve them in this life? DO YOU?
“Here’s to the security guards who maybe had a degree in another land. Here’s to the manicurist who had to leave her family to come here, painting the nails, scrubbing the feet of strangers. Here’s to the janitors who don’t even fucking understand English yet work hard despite it all. Here’s to the fast food workers who work hard to see their family smile. Here’s to the laundry man at the Marriott who told me with the sparkle in his eyes how he was an engineer in Peru. Here’s to the bus driver, the Turkish Sufi who almost danced when I quoted Rumi. Here’s to the harvesters who live in fear of being deported for coming here to open the road for their future generation. Here’s to the taxi drivers from Nigeria, Ghana, Egypt and India who gossip amongst themselves. Here is to them waking up at 4am, calling home to hear the voices of their loved ones. Here is to their children, to the children who despite it all become artists, writers, teachers, doctors, lawyers, activists and rebels. Here’s to Western Union and Money Gram. For never forgetting home. Here’s to their children who carry the heartbeats of their motherland and even in sleep, speak with pride about their fathers. Keep on.”—
when you think about it Kingsley Shacklebolt is a great choice for Minster of Magic because he was 1) in the order 2) an auror but 3) he worked with the muggle Prime Minister, meaning that he has an inside look into muggle politics and what is happening in the muggle world and what is important in the muggle world AS WELL AS being a trusted face to the muggle prime minister (since presumably he would continue to protect the prime minister until he was forced to go into hiding).
so Kingsley Shacklebolt for Prime Minister ‘98 all the way
I don’t think you understand because we get the books from Harry’s point of view, we don’t get much of Lily and James Potter besides them being dead, but you have to remember that someone had to get their bodies out of the rubble. Someone had to bury them while Harry Potter, in Privet Drive, had no idea what was happening.
So every morning I get off the train and start my 20 minute walk to work, and there’s this guy who’s always like 3 steps ahead of me and always beats me to the street corner bc I get stopped by the light and he passes it. but today I was ahead of him for the first time and he RUNS in front of me, turns around and goes “I’ve been winning for 2 months now, can’t stop now, have a good day, see you tomorrow.” tmrw I swear i’m wearing running shoes to work.