'I lied,' I confessed; it’s funny how two words can make my insides tremble.

'Why did you?' you asked, calmly, but your eyes were asking a different question and telling a different story. I stared right into your eyes and I saw burning flames made up of hurt, anger and disbelief. Among these, I searched for love and forgiveness and there I found them—together, hand-in-hand but pain—and everything else—came between them and knocked them down. 'Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?'

And that was it. The moment I heard the word ‘truth’, I was pulled back to that night when we were staring at the city lights; with our fingers intertwined with each other; us not talking, just staring at the beautiful city below us; me wanting to be with you for the rest of my life. I remembered looking at you that same night and touching your face. You asked why and I just smiled but really, I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t a dream, that I wasn’t dreaming. I was pulled back to that time when being yours—and yours alone—was the only thing I wanted. I was pulled back to those times when we were so certain that we would end up with each other. Thinking about it now, well, we could have—if only I didn’t lie.

'I didn’t tell you the truth because that means losing you and losing you means having to live a life without you. And I don’t want that to happen,” I wanted to say. This, I was sure, was what I wanted to answer.

"You lost me the moment you chose to lie to me instead of telling me the truth and saving me from lies that come with unbearable pain,’ you said as if you can read my mind.

'I know and I’m sorry,' was the only thing I managed to answer.

—  i.v.c., Lies
I have called you by your name;
You are mine.
When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
And through the rivers,
They shall not overwhelm you.
When you walk through the fire,
You shall not be burned.
For I am the Lord,
Your God.
You are precious in my eyes
—  Isaiah 43:1-4

Yesterday I was enjoying a quiet morning at home. Mozart was playing and there was a fire burning in the fireplace. I had been looking forward to making tortellini, and everything was laid out and organized on the counter.  

I heard an unexpected knock on the door, and when I opened it, guess who it was? My good friend Spinosaurus (we baked peanut butter cookies together last year), grinning from ear to ear. He decided to invite himself over for lunch and took the liberty to bring along some of his friends. I welcomed them in, realizing the dynamics of my peaceful morning were about to change. Little did I know that the bigger T-Rex had five bottles of wine with him.

I showed the gang how to cut the pasta, fill it, and roll it into tortellini shapes. It was a fun group! The dinosaurs were curious, and the Velociraptors were quick learners. (They did most of the work.) We were really on a roll until I saw the wine.

Before I knew it, somebody had plugged in the Beastie Boys, and all hell broke loose. Spinosaurus announced he was king, and danced around with a tortellini crown on his head. Seeing that, the little yellow T-Rex guzzled a whole bottle of Rosé!

In the end, it was all good fun, but wine at 11am is a bit too early – even for me. The project took longer than it needed to, because they all got drunk. The crowd cleared away sometime mid-afternoon. I was left with the dishes, but I was also left with a nice amount of tortellini, too.

I’m sure I haven’t seen the last of the dinosaurs in my kitchen.

Dinosaur shenanigans, starring:

  • The Velociraptor cousins
  • Alioramus
  • Maiasaura
  • Ankylosaurus
  • Spinosaurus
  • The mischievous T-Rex partners

Happy Employee Appreciation Day!

We’re sharing a few of our favorite employee photos from across the country in recognition of the 10,000+ BLM employees and volunteers who manage your public lands and resources.  

David Cronenberg’s Horror Portrait of Hollywood

Richard Brody on “Maps to the Stars”:

Gone is the democratic absolutism of Hollywood’s early days (“What I like ain’t worth a cent; what audiences like is worth a million”). This is the Hollywood of the second and third generations, dynasties of free-thinking genius and devoted craftsmanship, of obscene privilege and ravenous entitlement. “Maps” shows these children as at once spoiled and deprived and destroyed, drowning in the void of the-sky’s-the-limit and nothing-is-ever-enough, consuming their past to feed their dreams, or, to invert a phrase from “Histoire(s) du Cinéma,” burning their reality to heat their imagination.

Photograph Courtesy Entertainment One Films

One day many years later, you see her again.
She is still glowing like a star, and you can still feel her pulling you in.
You think, it’s as if nothing has changed.

You close your eyes, and you are back where it all started.
She is battling her fingers with yours, and her lips are pressed against your neck, and your every breath is beginning to sound like her name.
You gaze up at the stars, and you ask her what she thinks of them.
She says, they are nothing.
She says, we could light the sky up the way they do with just a touch.
She says, the stardust in your eyes is the reason the moon is watching us.
She says, our names will linger for more time than any constellation.
She says, we are so much more than their forever.

One day many years later, she smiles at you, and your heart still beats for her.
It always will.

💖I love being black and having full lips and a big nose and versatile hair and being able to sit in the sun and not be burned to death💖

How not to treat a D/deaf/HOH kid

You know what makes me burn with pride every time my acting or dancing is complimented? Because everyone told me that I can’t do it. Look at me now! I’m auditioning for dance schools and acting colleges and I perform nearly two shows a year. But Jesus Christ, I was 10 or something when this happened. 

We’d had gone on a school trip to another school to watch a Shakespeare theater company with two other schools. I was looking forward to it, because firstly I loved acting, and secondly my parents had met when they played in an ammeter production of A Midsummer’s Nights Dream. I was interested. 

Based off the fact I was in year 5, I must have been 10 so therefore profoundly deaf in both ears. I had no clue what the hell  was going on, but the costumes where pretty and the acting to me was stunning. So, when they picked me as a volunteer i was starstruck. I remember, vividly, walking towards the stage, towards the actress in a fairy costume. I remember, vividly, my teacher walking past me, onto the stage and announcing loudly

"Please pick someone else. She’s deaf and won’t know what to do."

That I heard. It was excruciatingly painful as I walked back to my seat, with the eyes of 100 kids looking at me. Judging. Looking at my ears and whispering. I wanted to cry, I wanted to run back up to that stage and rip my teachers hair out. Punch her, kick her, stab her eardrums out so she becomes deaf too. But I didn’t do any of that. Nor did I run back up to the stage and reassure everyone I could do it. I sat back down, drowning in a sea of indifference. 

From there on in, I didn’t get excited anymore.

The moment I hated Carol with a burning passion was when she cried over her big fucker of a husband after the beating Shane had given him. Shane beat Ed because he was tired of this big shit being disrespectful to the women. Let me remind you that Ed had just slapped Carol. Instead of being grateful to Shane and thanking him for his help, SHE CRIED over her abuser! What a piece of crap, that Carol! How can someone like a woman like that? No guts, no courage, just a whining crap. If it hadn’t been the apocalypse, I am sure the old hag would have sewed Shane for beating her big shit of a husband.

Her skin is silver. Her eyelids sprinkled with angelic dust. Her tender heart engulfed by waves of the changing tide. She feels deeply. Harshly. Given to the moon, she goes around trying to find her own peace of mind. She gives and gives and tires, and gets rested by knowing her loved ones are safe and eased. She burns and burns and yearns for feeling like she can finally belong. She is capable of great love. She will blossom, and she is capable.
—  J.DF

sophisexual asked:

Someone in my math class said Beyoncé is ugly and talentless. They also a very loud and annoying. How do I handle this fuckboi who is also singing the little Einsteins song?

Oh, for this kind of egregious behavior there is really only one acceptable answer: he must be made an example of. You may go old-fashioned (tar and feather him, draw and quarter him, burn him at the stake) or newfangled (throw his phone in the ocean, then decapitate him and feed his body to sharks).

Best of luck.

A Supervillain

The signs as different things
  • Aries:The smell of coffee, burning your hand on a hot plate
  • Taurus:Falling asleep in freshly changed bedsheets, sticky fingers
  • Gemini:Bare feet on grass, memories of your first crush
  • Cancer:Your favourite flavour of ice cream on a hot day, a cry of relief
  • Leo:Singing from the top of your lungs, doing something stupid to impress your friends
  • Virgo:The lump in your throat before taking the leap, rubbing your eyes
  • Libra:Finally getting over a cold, returning home after a long trip
  • Scorpio:A bloody nose, driving late at night
  • Sagittarius:The first day of summer, a scraped knee
  • Capricorn:Laundry drying in the sun, getting a bad tooth pulled
  • Aquarius:The agonizing seconds after you step out of the shower, learning something in another language
  • Pisces:The first bite of a birthday cake, stepping on something sharp

I have been taught since i was a child that my hair was wrong. Its too big. Its too frizzy. Its too black. Thats one aspect of latino culture that people rarely talk about. We pull, we burn, we douse our hair with unnatural products and procedures to fit the side our our heritage that we are taught to value. To fit the beauty standards that had been shoved down our throats.
But I got tired of it. I got tired of having people tell me that I’m a “pretty Colombian” because I have lighter skin than fellow Colombians. I got tired of people telling me that i was prettier when my hair was straightened than when it was out in a big shapeless ball of frizz. So I reached out. I searched for a place where my natural look, my natural hair could be loved.
And I found in with my black sisters and brothers. Your fight to show the world that you too are beautiful, your fight to love yourselves taught me to love myself. Your natural hair movement gave me the strength to love my own. I am still in the process of learning to love myself. But i have to pay my respects to the movement that inspired me to look deep within my culture and find the truth.
Some did not accept me. I was told time and time again that I am not a woman of color. That i am not black enough to identify with you all. But to that i say, I am an Afro Latina. I am proud of the influences Mama Africa has had on me. From the cultural music of my beautiful Colombia, to the traditions of our dances that have been passed down generation to generation, to the blessed, BEAUTIFUL hair i have on my head. Mama Africa has given me a piece of her beauty, and I will cherish and love it for as long as I live. <br/>
So this is for all of you. For all of the people in my life and here on Tumblr who taught me that I too can belong, and that the natural me is beautiful. You are all beautiful, and i only hope to one day be as strong and blessed as you all.

anonymous asked:

Do you have any fic recs that center around Dalton Academy? With it burning down in tonights ep I'm in the mood to read fic about Klaine and the Warblers and what they got up to out of classes (I've always believed they lived in dorms)

Dalton by CP Coulter (Rated T - WIP) Post-Furt: Spinning off from Glee, Kurt begins an entirely new chapter in his life at Dalton Academy for Boys. Blaine, Wes, David and the boys of Windsor House make his life, for better or worse, far more eventful than he imagined.  

***This fic is currently over 406K - it doesn’t update regularly but when she DOES update, the updates are HUGE. It’s a great fic, well written, plenty of OCs - highly recommended but think of it as if you’re reading books and waiting for the next book in the series. A good summer read, maybe?


Where We Went Right by beautifulwhatsyourhurry (NC17 Complete)  Everyone seems to fuck like rabbits at Dalton Academy. Neither Kurt nor Blaine are an exception to this rule. But something that happens later after a drunken Warblers party could alter their relationship quite a bit. Set quite a few months into Kurt’s stay at Dalton.  


Welcome To Dalton Academy, Kurt by StarGleekBelle (Rated M - Complete)  AU: Kurt never went to spy on the Warblers, but he did become a new student at Dalton when things at McKinley escalated. Will Blaine and the Warblers be able to pick up the pieces, or will Kurt stay broken?


Notebook by Unic0rn-Hobbit (Rated M - Complete) When Kurt tranfers to Dalton the last thing his expects is to be roomed with a beautiful boy who refuses to talk. No one knows why, but maybe Kurt can open him up? And maybe he’ll find something he’s been looking for all along…but some of the Dalton students have other ideas. Klaine fiction. Warnings above each chapter.


Set Me Free by writtenfables (PG13 - Complete)

After an accident, Burt Hummel pulls Kurt out of McKinley and has him transferred to Dalton Academy School for Boys. - Set during the beginning of his junior year.


Word Of Mouth by LaurenEP18 (Rated M – Complete)   mute!Kurt, badboy!Blaine.

A culmination of years of bullying and a traumatizing experience led Kurt to stop talking. His whiteboard is his only form of communication when his father sends him to Dalton. Kurt’s world will be turned around when he’s roomed with Blaine Anderson, Dalton’s bad boy. Can Blaine get through to Kurt? Will Kurt ever speak again?


Dracula (1979) Starters
  • Now it is you, my best beloved one. You will be flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood. You will cross land and sea to do my bidding. I need your blood.
  • You needn’t shout. You frightened me. 
  • I’m sorry. I had a key. 
  • Well the man is useless
  • Listen to them - the children of the night. What sad music they make! 
  • You flatter me
  • You dare try to confuse me! Tormenting him who is the saddest, the kindest of all!
  • If I could send his soul to everlasting, burning hell I would! 
  • ____ tells me you speak some Romanian.
  • I have no idea what you said.
  • I said it would be nice to see you smile. 
  • The very last entry was a strange word. A word that Mina thought meant “undead”. 
  • Dead! Undead! I don’t care, they all frighten me! 
  • Oh, I love to be frightened.
  • No, you must go on a bit longer as a creature of the sun. Only until we have left behind those who would destroy us. 
  • Then you will join me on a higher plane… feeding on them. We will create more of our kind
  • You fools! Do you think with your crosses and your wafers you can destroy me? Me!
  • You do not know how many men have come against me
  • I am the *king* of my kind!
  • Time is on my side. In a century, when you are dust, I shall wake and call ___, my queen, from her grave.
  • I have in my time had many brides, ___. But I shall set ___ above them all. 
  • She’s mine already. 
  • In the past 500 years,  those who have crossed my path have all died, and some not pleasantly.
  • I’ve been bitten by a bat. 
  • I too have buried many friends, and I am weary. 
Safe and Sound

Title: Safe and sound

Author: Meagan

Rating: T

Notes: This is just an excerpt from a fanfic that i’ve been working on. Written from the perspective of (Y/N) in which Spencer and (Y/N) have been dating in secret for months. Based around the episode ‘Minimal Loss’, and the scene in which Reid emerges from the burning church.

Words: 686

Trigger warnings: fire/destruction and suggestion of death by fire

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