I think the biggest lesson I’ve learned in my college years is to believe. Believe in yourself, even when no one else does. The first time I ran a 5:45 mile, I was a junior in high school. Four years later, I comfortably opened up my 10K at that pace. No one thought I would be good. I am not talented. But I knew I had it within me if I would just work hard enough. And I’m not finished. Don’t wait for your coaches, parents, professors, or anyone to tell you “you can.” It may seem superhuman or impossible to them at times, but trust yourself. Dream big. But most importantly BELIEVE.
So recently I came back from college, and in all honesty my parents have never understood Youtube, or what the point of this blog was; in honesty they wanted me to stop. To stop everything and focus on school. Which thankfully I didn’t as Youtube and Tumblr kept me sane, WHILE being in college and doing homework.
So fast forward to now, and I got my grades back. Guess who aced all my classes while still maintaining my sanity? this girl. Above was my Dad’s response on facebook :D I’m glad they understand <3
I’m a black woman of a certain age, a divorced mom of two teenagers who has no choice but to focus daily on the challenges of keeping a home, my family and myself on track. I’m college-educated, work in media communications, am precariously middle-class — and I am tired of what I witness of today’s feminism.
I’d hoped that the Women’s March might help me update my perception of feminism, at least as it is commonly portrayed and disseminated of late.
I’d followed the back and forth in the alternative and mainstream press during its hurried, urgent formation, and chalked up reports about internal squabbles over the race and class makeup of the group’s leadership to the same kind of growing pains that beset every activist group that I’ve ever followed or covered during my years in newsrooms. But now, a month after the Women’s March masterfully pulled off a massive protest in D.C. that also inspired similar ones in major American and global cities, my nascent investigation of the March 8 ‘general strike’ and 'day without women’ raised only more concerns, and a few questions, all located in what I see as a big void in today’s marketing-driven expression of 'feminism.’
At this moment, whether expressed by the second-wave, Gloria Steinem wing, or the third-wave corporatist Sheryl Sandberg arm, or the rowdy, genitalia-obsessed Lena Dunham arm, it seems that 'feminism’ in 2017 is more concerned with promoting superficial trappings of genuine equality than with doing the tough work required to address the hard, cold facts of gender and racial inequality.
I really love your writing and now I'm pan for vanderwood i hope you're happy >:3 If it's no trouble, could you please write rfa + minor trio reacting to a usually hyper and happy mc feeling really down (because they feel misunderstood or got triggered)? I hope I don't bother you with that request, I could just really use some love and care from the baes ^^;; Love and hugs, have a wonderful day!
✿ *cracks knuckles* Boy, it’s been awhile, huh? I polished off my finals a few days ago, and while I won’t be churning headcanons out at a super fast rate, I thought it was time I give this blog some TLC!
His brain goes into terror-alert mode when you don’t tackle-hug him the minute he gets home from work. Living with you is sort of like living with a hyperactive puppy, and his first thought is, oh god, are you dead? Did you slip and fall in the shower? Did aliens kidnap you and are now experimenting on your lifeless body? W h e r e a r e y o u.
The answer to “where are you” is “in the bedroom, having a lie-down”. He breathes a sigh of relief when you turn over and look at him, but still, that weak way you smile as you say hey leaves him concerned.
He immediately asks you what’s wrong. Are you feeling sick? Should he get you anything? Do you have a cold? Have you been eating enough fruit? Have you…–??
This manages to make you laugh a bit, and you sit up enough so you can pull him back down to the bed. You just want a hug, you say. And some comfort.
Yoosung is happy to oblige. After all, he’s a vet, isn’t he? He’ll always take care of you, his adorable little angel.
When Zen finds you staring absently out the window, his first cheer-up attempt is to call you by every pet name he knows. Starshine! Sugardrop! Love! Darling! Gooey-sweetie-snuggle-bottom hunie bear!
(you smack him lightly for that last one.)
Next, he tries every pick up line he knows. He compares your beauty to the moon shining on the lake, he recites poetry, he even sings you a little sonnet, and when he finally gets you to smile a little, he asks you what’s wrong.
(he wanted to make whatever it was feel a little less fresh before you talked about it, after all.)
He takes you on a motorcycle ride after, since that always helped distract him - though he obeys all the road laws on this one, because his precious, precious blossom is with him right now. He takes you out to one of his special places, and he helps you forget whatever it was that upset you.
It’s hard to be unhappy when the warm wind is on your face and a handsome man is at your side.
She finds you in the closet of the bakery, and you apologize, because you wanted to be better before she found you. You didn’t want to bother her. You know that you’re supposed to be the happy one, the cheerful one, the person rooting her on and keeping her sane when the world is building up around her.
She tells you that’s nonsense, brings you a cup of tea and a new cake she’s working on, and asks you to tell her what’s wrong.
Jaehee is so good at listening. She’s careful, attentive, and treats everything you say seriously. She never makes fun of you, or tells you that you’re overreacting or silly.
Jaehee would probably dropkick your problems if she could, but she can’t, so she settles for hugging you, petting your hair gently, before bringing you another drink and some of the flowers from the rosebushes outside.
You try to smile at Jumin when he comes home, and you’re doing so well, but then everything cracks apart, your smile falters, and you find you’re sobbing on the couch with a baffled Jumin in the doorway.
He only stands still for a moment. He literally VAULTS OVER THE CHAIR because it is the FASTEST PATH TOO YOU, and if you weren’t emotionally compromised, it would have been hilarious to see this man in a ten-thousand dollar suit act like a college track star.
He basically scoops you up, much like you’re a cat, and he tells you to tell him e v e r y t h i n g. When you say you don’t want to trouble him, you know how much it means to him to have you waiting at home for him, all cheerful and happy, he says that is NONSENSE. It isn’t you being cheerful that makes him happy, it’s you being you that does. And sometimes you’re going to be sad.
And he’s going to make you feel better when you are.
Seven knows immediately that your smile is forced. How could he not? He’s faked so many smiles over his years of being alive that he’s become all-too able to recognize the same expression on someone else’s face.
He doesn’t want to force it out of you, so he turns off the lights suddenly, leaving the star-shaped lights you have suspended from the ceiling as the only thing illuminating the room, and then pulls you up to dance.
He twirls you, spins you, is surprisingly graceful with you, despite being a total and complete nerd - though, he was a former secret agent, perhaps dancing came with the job. And you don’t have to pretend, you don’t have to say anything, you just have to… dance.
It helps. And when he holds you, during the ‘slow dance’ portion, you tell him what’s wrong as he rubs your back gently. And then you dance some more, because the world keeps spinning, despite the trials and tribulations you have to undergo.
You reminded Seven that he had a future, and now it’s his turn to remind you that you have one too.
V sits with you quietly and never blames you, even though you know he’s been through so much already and shouldn’t have to deal with your shit. You should be happy! You should be cheerful! You ARE genuinely happy and cheerful most of the time, taking him on dates and bringing the world to him, but today you just… can’t.
You can’t. You feel guilty, but you can’t.
He tells you that it is not your fault. You are human. You are allowed to be sad. You tell him all these things, and the same applies to you, too. He bops your nose with his finger when you try to protest, and you lean against him, letting him hold you and gently rub your shoulder.
After awhile, he brings out his phone, and he shows you all of the cute animal photos he’s taken over the years. It’s hard for him now, but he has so many memories captured on his various memory cards, and he shares them with you in a quiet room and a fond voice.
Saeran doesn’t know how to comfort you, so he makes a dozen pancakes using the container of Bisquick you have into the cabinet and then shoves one into your face like a burrito.
“What was that for,” you ask, after you’ve managed to chew and swallow, and he just puts another directly into your mouth, effectively using it as a fluffy batter gag.
You eat that one too, staring directly at him the entire time.
“Are you feeling better,” he asks once you’re finished, and you reply that you’re mostly just really confused.
One of the websites he’d read said that making pancakes for people was an expression of love, so he figured that would be enough to make you feel better, right?
You eat fruit to get better from a cold, so love should help you get better when you’re sad… right?
Right, you say, because Saeran is a prickly moron, but somehow his deranged antics make it hard to stay depressed.
Vanderwood is really bad at this gooey, lovey-dovey shit, so when they notice you don’t have quite as much pep in your step as usual, they aren’t really sure what to do. They do know, however, that they should do something, so they decide to tell you a joke.
“Knock knock,” they say, and you do a bit of a double-take, because Vanderwood isn’t really the type. But you’re intrigued enough that it momentarily distracts you from what’s making you gloomy, so you ask, “Who’s there?”
“Bless you,” they say, in a perfectly flat voice, and you laugh at how stupid it is.
“Knock knock,” they say again, hands in their pockets, and you’re delighted at this point.
They clear your throat. “Seven, you motherfucker, you know I don’t speak Arabic, so open your goddamn door.”
(You cover your face and snort.)
“Knock knock,” they say a third time, and you notice they look a bit shyer now.
“Al…” They rub their mouth, averting their eyes. “….Al give you a kiss if you open the door.”
You, sufficiently cheered up by this ridiculous display, peck them on the lips and thank them for being wonderfully embarrassing.
Took the morning fairly easy and had a decent sleep since I still wasn’t feeling 100%. I then did some notes for chem (I didn’t do the complete lecture but still) before my boyfriend came over for a Peaky Blinder marathon. It was nice to spend some time with him just relaxing tbh.
Will you write a domestic Jikook head cannon? One where Jimin is a teacher @ school or wherever, and Jk is a businessman, and everyone thinks their the cutest/power couple ever??
This is actually such a cute idea. Thank you for the request! I hope you like it💖
Jimin had wanted to be a biology teacher ever since his first science report about snakes in the fourth grade. Granted, he never thought he’d end up teaching high school Biology at 25, let alone married to the CEO of the biggest music production company in Seoul.
He was a popular teacher among the students, known as more fun and easy-going than most. His class was always one of the most sought after, often having a list of students waiting for an open spot lest someone drop the class or get kicked out. It was rare that someone willing leave the class, considering the extra leeway Jimin would give for assignments and hardly any homework in the first place.
Jimin had made good friends with a few fellow teachers.
Taehyung or Mr. Kim, was the Art teacher that always ended up covered in paint. They’d been great friends for years, only finding each other after a few years apart when Jimin had gotten a job at the school. They usually ate lunch together and went out for drinks on the weekends. Jimin found that he’d often let his students call him Mr. Tae to prevent confusion with the Mathematics teacher. Loud and enthusiastic personality, contagious energy, definitely the most fun teacher.
Hoseok, or Mr. Jung, was the Advanced Dance teacher and dance team coach. Jimin liked to sit in on dance practices, joining in occasionally whenever the mood struck. He’d told Hoseok of his dance days back in college, even busted out a few moves, and after three days of the dance team begging him, Jimin agreed to help with choreography when needed. The loudest teacher, always cheering at basketball games, probably more enthusiastic than the cheerleaders.
Namjoon, or Mr. Kim, the Mathematics and English language teacher. No, he was not the high-strung Calculus teacher down the hall. He was notorious for breaking the printer and would often send students to retrieve papers from the library for him. Although clumsy, he was quite charming in a smart, quirky kinda way. Definitely popular with the principal. Taught Advanced Trigonometry, wore cute bowties on Fridays
And Yoongi, or Mr. Min, was the music teacher and basketball coach. He wasn’t exactly the most spontaneous teacher, but he cared deeply about music and sought to educate every one of his students as thoroughly as possible. Teaches piano, played basketball all through high school and college, ran track, acts like he doesn’t care but bought custom jerseys for all the basketball players and has pictures of all the varsity teams from all the past years hanging in his office.
Students knew that Jimin was married, made obvious by the golden band around his fourth finger, and had always tried to get him to talk about it.
“Mr. Jeon, what’s your wife like?”
“Did she send you those flowers?”
It always managed to get a chuckle from him whenever the students prodded teasingly after classes, getting nowhere as Jimin waved them out.
“Get outta here, you brats. Go on, git.” He’d shoo the class out, students giggling as they separated into the hall, only smiling to himself when they were gone.
During free periods, Jimin’s phone would ring and he’d only grin when he saw the caller I.D.
“Mr. Jeon, how nice to talk to you today.” Jimin would smirk at the chuckle on the other side of the line, imagining the amused smile on the CEO’s face.
“I could say the same to you, Mr. Jeon.”
And they’d talk for an hour before Jimin had to prepare for his next class and Jungkook had a board meeting with some important client.
The day that Jimin’s students finally met his spouse was one that he’d never forget.
He’d walk through the halls as students crowded each other to get by, hearing an odd buzz of commotion between everyone. It wasn’t until he’d spotted on of his students chatting excitedly, constantly looking over near the front desk, that he’d finally find out what was going on.
“Sungmi, what’s going on? Why is everyone so excited?” He’d ask her confusedly, the sophomore turning from her friends to him quickly.
“You didn’t hear? The head of BigHit Music Production is here!” And Jimin would look at her with wide eyes, not expecting to hear that Jungkook was at the school.
Although, he probably should’ve expected it when he’d mentioned that his students kept asking about his ‘wife’ the night before at dinner. Jungkook had never been inside the school with him before, at least not during active school hours. He’d usually drop him off on his way to work and pick him up afterwards, but never come inside.
Jimin would shuffle through the crowd of students, making his way to the front desk. And when he got past everyone, he’d find Jungkook chatting with Taehyung, small smile on his lips as Taehyung waved his arms around, paint smudges still on his face and in his hair from his Intro to Painting class.
The CEO would be dressed as he was every day; custom tailored, black Armani suit and dress shoes, platinum Rolex on his left wrist and his golden wedding ring being the only color among his black and white attire. His very presence was intimidating to the people around him, students and teachers alike. He was a powerful man, wealthy and extremely handsome, not to mention the obviously well-kept physique underneath his suit.
When Jungkook would spot Jimin, he’d completely forget about his conversation with Taehyung, only able to focus on his husband walking towards him. It would feel like slow motion, just like when they’d met for the first time in Jimin’s junior year of college.
“Hey, baby.” Jungkook would have no hesitation pulling Jimin close and kissing his cheek, completely ignoring the collective, shocked gasp that came from the crowd of teenagers.
“What’re you doing here? I thought you had a meeting at noon.” Jimin would mumble into Jungkook’s shoulder from where he’d be hiding the blush on his cheeks.
“Client cancelled last minute. Thought I’d take you out for lunch today.” Jungkook would kiss his cheek again, quietly chuckling at the color on Jimin’s cheeks before pulling away to look at the small crowd of students that had gathered.
“Mr. Jeon, I thought you were married?” He’d hear one of his students ask hesitantly, barely loud enough for him to catch over the hushed mumbles of the others.
Jimin would groan when he’d hear Jungkook laugh, full-bellied and hearty.
“Indeed, he is.” Jungkook would grin and pull Jimin’s left hand up in his own, showcasing their matching rings.
“Jeon Jungkook, Mr. Jeon’s husband. Pleasure to meet you all.” He’d do a little fake bow before Jimin tugged him out the door, not looking back at all until they’d reached the car.
At lunch, Jimin would swat at Jungkook for his little introduction, knowing that the students would be relentless in their questioning when he’d return.
The next day would be suspiciously calm, not a peep from any of his students, not even Minhwan who seemed to have a joke for everything. It was almost concerning. Very rarely did any of Jimin’s classes go by without someone going off on a tangent and somehow talking about why giraffe necks are so long, or something of the same importance.
But Jimin would completely forget all of that when Jungkook would show up to pick him up after school, waltzing into his classroom like he owned it.
“Jiminie~” The CEO would call softly, making Jimin look up from the mountain of papers he’d have to grade in the next three days.
Jimin would send a weak smile towards Jungkook before continuing to mark the paper in front of him. Jungkook would move to stand behind Jimin, silently rubbing at his shoulders in an effort to relieve some of his stress.
“Baby, you should go home. I’m going to be here for a while. I can catch a ride home with Tae.”
Jungkook would frown at that, glancing at the mound of papers before settling into a chair beside him. Making him set the pen down, Jungkook would interlock their fingers together and turn Jimin’s face to look at him.
“Not a chance, sweetcheeks.” Jimin could only smile as Jungkook kissed him, sweet and slow before pulling away.
He’d strip his suit jacket, loosen his tie, and roll up his sleeves before pulling a student desk up to his knee and dropping half of the pile of papers on top of it.
And for the next two and a half hours, Jungkook would help grade biology quizzes and homework, occasionally slipping a hand to squeeze at Jimin’s thigh. When they’d finished, it was past 7:00pm and Jimin could feel himself falling asleep as he grabbed his bag, Jungkook holding his waist to steady him from falling over. He’d let Jungkook lead him out, sending a tired, mock salute to Namjoon before being maneuvered out the door.
That night, Jungkook orders pizza and lets Jimin take a nap on his chest until it arrives, finding him blinking awake groggily as he sets the boxes on the coffee table. And later, they’d fall asleep with Jimin draped over Jungkook’s chest, both only in boxers as they huddled together, too tired to do anything but listen to each other’s breathing until they fell asleep.
Eventually, it became a common occurrence to see Jungkook visiting Jimin, either during lunch or after school. He’d bring flowers sometimes, which only caused Jimin to blush down to his toes as girls giggled in the halls.
At some point, Jimin found a framed picture of he and Jungkook on their wedding day placed on his desk. He would smile at it for a moment, remembering just how amazing their wedding had been. And the honeymoon.
Lord, the honeymoon.
Jimin would find that the students quite liked having Jungkook visit, always managing to get a smile and a few playful jabs in before he had to leave.
Jimin did too. He may have enjoyed being able to kiss his husband in the parking lot like they were teenagers, maybe a bit too much for a responsible high school teacher. And he definitely got a kick out of watching students fawn over Jungkook, knowing that he was completely and utterly his.
THAT’S ALL I GOT BUT I REALLY LOVED WRITING THIS
💖 I really hope you like this as much as I did