celebrity worth

It’s not stupid. I promise. It’s not stupid to turn into your 5 year old self and get happy beyond measure for the little things. It’s not stupid to be proud of yourself for completing a load of laundry and washing the dishes. You aren’t lame for patting yourself on the back when you chose a salad over a burger. You’re taking care of yourself and each victory - no matter how small - is worth celebrating. 

There is a Haitian saying that might upset the aesthetic sensibilities of some women. ‘Nou lèd, nou la,’ it says. 'We are ugly, but we are here.’ Like the modesty that is common in rural Haitian culture, this saying makes a deeper claim for poor Haitian women than maintaining beauty, be it skin-deep or otherwise. For women like my grandmother, what is worth celebrating is the fact that we are here, that against all odds, we exist.
—  Edwidge Danticat, “We Are Ugly, but We Are Here,” Women Writing Resistance: Essays on Latin America and the Caribbean 
Ain’t Got Nothin’ But Love

A Highschool AU SnowBaz fic for the Carry On Valentine’s Celebration

Admittedly, it might not be entirely truthful to say that Baz joined Vocal Jazz because he loved singing.  This is not to say that he didn’t love singing, it just wasn’t something that he tended to broadcast. And yes, Vocal Jazz was a good way of coming out of his shell, breaking past that barrier of shyness when it came to his own voice, plus maybe making some friends.

           However, let’s just say that Baz might not have auditioned if it weren’t for the blonde-haired blue-eyed tenor.

           And maybe he didn’t get up for those early morning practices before class purely because he loved singing, but because he loved something else.  Someone else.


Baz was more than a little disappointed when the group was split into two for the Valentine’s Day Musical Candy Gram event.  Granted, some might find it a little overwhelming to have ten people singing at them in front of the class, but couldn’t he at least have been put in Simon’s group?

           No, because the ensemble only had two basses and two tenors.  Both groups needed one of each, and Simon couldn’t miss third class.

           So Baz was left to swallow his disappointment as he followed his group down the halls of Watford High, singing excerpts of Beatles songs at poor unsuspecting students.  Objectively, it was a cute little setup.  They would barge into a classroom with the chorus of “She Loves You”.  Then Trixie, one of the sopranos, would call out the names of any “lucky” students, who would then have to make their embarrassing way to the front of the room to accept a flower or a card or both from Trixie and be serenaded with “8 Days A Week”.  All in all, not horrible.  Objectively. Baz was just glad he wasn’t on the subjective side of things.

           After fourth period, which he spent both quietly chuckling at the sound of his choir mates in nearby classrooms, and also praying they wouldn’t burst into his classroom or, heaven forbid, bestow a Musical Candy Gram upon him, Baz returned to the empty music room for his coat, which he had left there when the group had met at lunch.  As he buttoned up the coat, he couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit melancholy.  He hated to admit it to himself, but while singing was great, it was nothing compared to singing with Simon.  Because when he was singing with Simon it made “I’ll Be Seeing You”, their competition piece, feel different.  He wasn’t just singing words; it was more of an outlet.  Like pouring his bottled-up feelings down a drain.  They weren’t going to Simon, but at least they were going somewhere.

           “She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah…”

           Baz’s heart sank when all nine of his choir mates filed into the room, singing and snapping their fingers, this time directing their song at him, but he had to smile a little.

           “Really?” he smirked as Trixie came forward to hand him a single rose with a card attached by a ribbon.  “Is this all necessary?”  In response, they burst into “8 Days A Week”, beaming at him like he’d won some sort of prize.  It was mortifying, but it was almost nice.

Baz snuck a glance at Simon, who was singing through a grin, and even though he knew he was probably blushing, Baz held his gaze for a few more seconds, saving the sight to replay later.

“Alright, who’s it from then?” he demanded when the others had finally finished singing.  “There’s no name on the card.”

“Oooh, a secret admirer!” squealed Trixie, but nobody had an answer for him.  Baz didn’t miss the smirk that twisted Simon’s mouth though, or how smug the boy looked when he left the room.


“You know, don’t you?”

Simon didn’t answer right away, but Baz saw his mouth twitch.  “Know what?”

“Who sent me the card and the flower yesterday.” Baz tried to sound indifferent as he trawled through the philosophy section of the library.  “I could see it on your face.”

Simon pulled a book on Aristotle off the shelf, not looking at Baz.  “It’s possible,” he drawled.  “After all, you are my best friend, I ought to know who has a crush on you.”

“What you ought to do is tell me, best friend.”

“I can’t.”

“You won’t.”

“I can’t,” Simon turned to him giggling.  “If I tell you who sent the Valentine, it would be breaking confidence.” He solemnly put one hand over his heart and one in the air by his head.  “I am under oath.”

“Under oath to whom?”

“The person who sent it, of course.”

Baz shot a look at him.  “So you’ve talked to them about it?”

“You could say that.”

“You’re being annoyingly cryptic.”

“Do you have any suspicions?”

Of course Baz had thought about it all day yesterday after school, but his mind had kept wandering back to what Baz wanted.  Because there was only one person he wanted to be behind the Valentine.

And if Baz was being honest with himself, it Simon hadn’t sent it, Baz didn’t want it.

He just shrugged.  “No one I can think of really makes sense.”

“Most love doesn’t make sense,” Simon murmured in reply, so softly that Baz thought maybe it wasn’t for him to hear.  Granted they were in a library, but still.

“Would you tell me if I guessed correctly?”

“No guarantees, but you have permission to interrogate me.  Ask away.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Hopefully a boy.”

Baz raised an eyebrow.  “What do you mean ‘hopefully’?”

“Well, in theory,” Simon stammered, “whoever sent it cares about you enough to know that you’re gay, and if it were a girl, hopefully she would respect you enough to know better than to send you a Valentine.”

Baz had to admit he had a point.  “So basically what you’re saying is that it was a boy?”

Simon smiled.  “If that’s what you think.”

A thought occurred to him.  “It wasn’t Agatha, was it?  Just to get that off the table?”

“No it was not,” Simon admitted, “that would be a bit weird.”

“Especially since she’s still carrying a torch for you,” Baz snorted, maybe a little louder than was appropriate in a library.  Simon gave a wry smile that Baz couldn’t quite interpret.

“It wasn’t her,” Simon assured him, “guess again.”

Baz was honestly stumped.  There just wasn’t anyone else who seemed even the least bit interested in him.  He had thought that maybe Dev had had feelings for him a few years earlier, but now Dev was happily involved with his girlfriend, which eliminated that possibility.

“Really?” Simon smirked.  “No one?”

“There just isn’t anyone who shows any signs of liking me like that,” Baz shrugged.

“You might be surprised at the number of people who would gladly date you.  I mean, you’re certainly not hard to look at.”

Baz shot a surprised glance at Simon, who was apparently very interested in a chapter about nihilism.  Did he just…

“Is there anyone you want it to be from?” Simon asked quickly, like he didn’t want Baz to question him further.



Simon looked up at him with a smile that seemed just a little bit painted, and looked back down quickly.  “You should ask them,” he said in an overly cheery voice, “you could get lucky.”

“There’s no point,” Baz shook his head.

“Why not?”

“There’s no way it was them,” he chuckled sadly, “absolutely no way.”

Simon shrugged without looking at him.  “Maybe that’s for the best.  If you never know who it was, you can just imagine that it was who you wanted it to be, and the person can just imagine that you like them back.”

Baz didn’t have an answer for that.  It sounded like an easy solution, to just let the whole thing fade away and imagine that Simon had picked out the rose with care, that he had skirted around Baz when the group prepared all the Candy Grams so that Baz wouldn’t find his own name among the Valentines. That he had done something silly like kiss the card before tying it to the bloom.

But it was too good to be true, and Baz knew it. He would never stop wondering if he didn’t find out for sure.

So he steeled himself and forced the words out of his mouth: “Was it you?”

Simon looked up at him with practiced innocence, but his eyes betrayed a touch of fear.  “Why would you think that?”

“I just had to ask,” Baz floundered, hoping he hadn’t gone as scarlet as he felt.  “So that’s a ‘no’ then?”

“… No.”

“No, what?”

“No, it’s not a ‘no’.”

Baz’s brain was going at a thousand miles per second, and yet he couldn’t for the life of him comprehend what Simon was saying. “Oh,” was his scholarly response. “So that means…”

Simon stared straight ahead into the bookcase. “I sent it.  You got me.”


Simon finally turned to look at him.  “Why?  Gee, I don’t know, Baz!”  He was whispering, but with so much force that it felt to Baz like he was shouting. “Maybe because in all the years we’ve been friends you have astounded me and I only just made sense of it all! Maybe because you’re brilliant and gentle and so goddamn beautiful and when you sing I never want you to stop, and even if you never found out who sent you the stupid flower or if you didn’t care, at least I would have tried to tell you how much I like you, at least I would have -”

The next sound he made was one of shock as Baz’s mouth covered his own.

The sound after that was one of oh god, finally because Baz had him backed against the philanthropy section and was tangling his fingers in Simon’s curls, burying his lips in heat and need and oh, this is what all the hype is about and it was a million times better than Simon could have hoped for.

“Under oath to whom, again?” Baz teased against Simon’s lips, and Simon laughed lightly as he snaked his arms around Baz’s neck, already desperate for more.

“You got me,” he whispered, reaching up for Baz’s mouth again, and Baz couldn’t help but grin as Simon pulled him down to meet him.  Baz angled his head and deepened the kiss, a low sigh escaping his throat.  In the back of his head he remembered the rose and the card, and took to moment to appreciate the fact that he wouldn’t be throwing them away after all before setting up a long, slow rhythm against Simon’s mouth like they had all the time in the world.

like I don’t want to have kids and I am terrified of childbirth but also I think the powers of the female body are worth celebrating and women who undertake the challenge of motherhood deserve feminist support and recognition for how difficult the task of raising children truly is.

like you can be critical of compulsory motherhood as a service to patriarchy while also recognizing that mothers are important women who deserve respect and a voice.

how can you have matriarchy without respect for mothers??

The Academy didn’t fix #OscarsSoWhite. But 2017’s Oscar nods are still worth celebrating.

Good on you, Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences! After two years of assembling acting lineups whiter than printer paper, you put together a remarkably diverse list of nominees that matches the all-time record for most racially diverse Oscar lineups. Not only are there tons of nonwhite actors nominated, even the non-acting categories are more representative of people of color.

Make no mistake: This is a feat. This is a recognition of tremendous work done by actors and creators of color from an organization that has, for two years now, ignored their contributions to the world of film.

But don’t even think about declaring #OscarsSoWhite over. To do that would be to misunderstand what #OscarsSoWhite even is, or why writer April Reign created it in the first place. Read more

follow @the-movemnt


Because she loves him. She loves him, you know? She’s not gonna let him control her, or be her “everything”, you fall in love with someone and there’s a commitment there.  They made a commitment with their marriage to each other, support and be there together, through ups and downs, through thick and thin. It was made a long time ago, and through all the bad he has done, it’s always been with the guise of protecting her. It’s never been with destruction in mind, or causing harm and pain towards her. 

1.1k celebration → for @betsypaige22​ (x)

A Scientific Study On Why Dogs Are The Best

- Their tails go swoosh swoosh

- Their little puppy “arf arf!” at strange objects that makes them fall backwards

- No sense of personal space

- Never ending adoration

- When they don’t have tails their whole body wiggles

- Everything is worth celebrating

- Puppy breath!

- That pit pat pit pat pit pat happy dance they do with their front paws when they’re excited

- They throw major shade at your enemies

- They’re an eco-friendly electric blanket 

- Their “grmmmmmmmm” when they are asleep and you disturb them

- Puppy kisses

- Their bunny hops in grass that’s higher than their heads

- When they do the splish splash in wading pools 

- The “arf arf” and butt wiggle they do when they want you to chase them

- They follow you everywhere


- Puppy eyes

- Paws in your face when they want your attention

- A never-ending wealth of happiness and soft furry warm hugs and unconditional acceptance

I know “positivity posts” listing traits aren’t always helpful, and posts that go “ if you’re x you’re still a real y” can be corny, but I really want to pour out some love for butches who aren’t, and can’t be, buff. because it seems like there just isn’t enough of that love to go around. a lot of butch pride events, blogs, depictions of butch women, etc center around doing hard physical work, manual labor, physically strong women, and so on. don’t get me wrong, I love a butch who can lift me over her head lol, butch women who are muscular are worth celebrating visibly especially since it is seen as a gender nonconforming trait, but it also just isn’t a universally reachable goal. some butches can’t exercise as much as we would like to because of mental or physical limitations, or exercise but in different ways than abled butches. physically disabled butches, mentally ill butches who have trouble going out and doing things, and chronically ill butches, who have much more constrained limits around fitness, are real butches. real butches are also scrawny and not buff, or chubby or fat while not being buff (the latter being more stigmatized for sure) and you’re gonna see us out in public being butch and that’s just the truth. and it’s good. 

On your birthday, I don’t call.
I know I said I would.
Add that on to the list of promises I’ve made that I did not keep.
I couldn’t.
Because you’ve fallen in love with a girl who’s dedicated more of her existence to you than I ever could and because I’m in the process of falling in love with someone who deserves it.
and neither one of us needs that kind of reminder anymore.
life is happening like it’s supposed to.
and we’re not in the business of digging up the past just to prove that we have survived. that is something worth celebrating.
happy 21st.

Here’s to a better year.

Here’s to breaking your bad habits for the last time, no more going back to their bed just because familiar is safe, that kind of safety belongs in the past. Here’s to quitting people who were bad for your lungs, worse than nicotine because you actually didn’t realize they were bad for you until they stung, they don’t come with a surgeon’s warning, just a beautiful smile to conceal bitter words, here’s to them dancing through tripwire with their tongue trying to convince you to stay.

Here’s to all the good people who belong, hearts light enough to carry you through your rough days, to people who say hey last year wasn’t so great but I’m glad we’re kind of okay. Here’s to the lovers you knew would make it anyway and to the friends who make you feel like surviving any old day should be worth a celebration, and here’s to family, the one that makes you feel like your heart is in the right place, blood or not, it still pumps because they accept you no matter where you came from.

Here’s to dreams that I hope you have kept through good times and bad, here’s to the ones you’ll accomplish in the future ahead and here’s to the ones that you’ll keep safe until the stars align or your life falls into place or karma decides to give you a chance, whatever it is that will finally make it real.

Here’s to your health, remember to sleep on time and keep one positive thing about yourself constantly echoing in your mind, wellness is about more than the shape of your body and physical symptoms, it’s also about how you feel on the inside.

Here’s to you and an unwritten year, possibilities unaccounted for, luck unused, happiness an unbeaten path– live it well enough to make up for the last.
—  Here’s to Every New Year

I’ve overslept two days in a row and showed up at work in basically pajamas both times, I was up all night with cramps, and there was an asshole on the train this morning who was eyeing either the hijabi standing next to me or the butch girl on my other side and I spent the entire ride putting myself between him and them and making direct eye contact when he muttered about whatever the fuck, because absolutely not today, satan

but the day after tomorrow I’m going to make a beautiful thanksgiving spread with my girlfriend and my best friend: wine and fancy meats and cheeses and jams and homemade bread and pie and borcht, and we’re going to hang out and watch a bunch of pretty dogs be Good Boys on tv and be grateful for what we have and the people we love in the tiniest, best thanksgiving I can imagine.

so yeah. I’m bringing my best to this holiday.

{ five's company // prologue }

{ my first!! poly!hamilsquad x reader fan fic!!! it’s finally up lol im so sorry this took so long!!! i hope it’s kind of good?? not even sure about the name yet but you know what it’s finally up! that’s worth celebrating. thanks for being so patient. enjoy! }


 New York City was your favorite place in the world hands down. You’d been out here for school to begin with but stayed because of the atmosphere. It was also where you met your four boyfriends. You shared the city you loved with the four loves of your life. 

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