luckyshirt: You’re an African American woman. You’re in love with a caucasian woman. You don’t know how to tell your friends. You’re worried. Because it’s 1892. And all of the adults are dead. And the leader of the Grown Children is standing right there. And he has his stick. So you hide behind the curtain. You pray for the sound of his enormous steam-powered mansion’s massive brass spider legs pounding down the cobblestone street away from the speakeasy. You wait. And you just worry. But it won’t help. Because it never does. It never helps just to worry. So you also cry. (Picture found on laughingsquid.)
Pop-upView Separately

luckyshirt:

You’re an African American woman.

You’re in love with a caucasian woman.

You don’t know how to tell your friends.

You’re worried.

Because it’s 1892.

And all of the adults are dead.

And the leader of the Grown Children is standing right there.

And he has his stick.

So you hide behind the curtain.

You pray for the sound of his enormous steam-powered mansion’s massive brass spider legs pounding down the cobblestone street away from the speakeasy.

You wait.

And you just worry.

But it won’t help.

Because it never does.

It never helps just to worry.

So you also cry.

(Picture found on laughingsquid.)

Source: luckyshirt