girl sitting on rock

So….I’.m sitting here with my grandmother watching Avatar and a commercial for White House Down comes on. As we’re watching, we see Jamie Fox flash across the screen and my Mimi says, “His daughters are so beautiful. Their mothers must be white.” 

I just turned and looked at her in such confusion and asked her what made her say something like that. Her reasoning was because their skin was fair and their hair pattern was so much more different than the hair of other black people. Now, I don’t know what race the mothers of Jamie’s two daughters are, but that doesn’t really matter to me. What matters is her statements. 

“His daughters are so beautiful. Their mothers must be white.”

As if the bar for beauty starts with some level of whiteness. If that logic stood firm, then I’d be the ugliest person with my dark complexion and thick, unruly hair. What is so hard about understanding the SCIENTIFICALLY proven fact that black people can and do come in all shades, regardless of interbreeding. A black person does not have to be interracial to have light skin. Nor does a black person have to be interracial to have lighter colored eyes, or thinner, wispier hair. Anything perceived to “belong” to or be indicative of “whiteness” is solely dependent on genes. White people do not OWN beauty, nor should we have to conform to this mindset that being light-skinned makes you “exotic” or more beautiful than any other race, complexion, etc. 

Look at Raven Elyse: MUA (Makeup Artist), Fashion Vlogger, Designer, YouTube Personality. @raybabyray

Looking at her, would you believe that both her parents are black? JUST black? 

What about Cydnee Black?

Is it hard to believe that her mother and father are dark-skinned, and without a drop of Caucasian in them?

I am so fed up with hearing people speak so highly of lighter skinned people, but keeping their praise for those of a darker complexion hushed and toned down. I’m so tired of hearing OTHER black people subconsciously and subliminally put down darker skinned black people. As if our skin wasn’t kissed by the sun. As if our level of melanin isn’t as glorious and remarkable as any other person on the face of the planet. EVERY SHADE IS BEAUTIFUL. EVERY shade is remarkable in their own way. Every discoloration, hyper-pigmentation, all of it. Absolutely beautiful and unique in it’s own way.

So there’s all these stories about mermaids wanting to grow legs and live on land… but where are the stories about the humans who want to grow fins and live in the sea?

A girl goes out to sit on the rocks near the ocean every morning, the salt air around her, it’s the only place she feels at peace.  One morning she sees something in the water, as the thing gets closer she realizes it’s a woman with long dark hair and bright green eyes.

The woman get’s closer and the girl notices that she has a fin.  The woman introduces herself, her voice has a lilt to it, her skin is creamy white and almost blue, her hair has seaweed and shells in it, her tail is a beautiful silvery green. 

It becomes a daily thing, the girl sitting on her rock and waiting for her mermaid to come to her.  Some mornings she jumps in and they swim, but not too far because the girl is slower.  All she wants to do is give up her legs and live with her mermaid in the ocean.  

She wishes for it every night for a tail so she can be with her true love in the sea and finally one night there’s a shooting star.  All the old tales tell her that if she wishes will all of her heart it will come true.  She makes the wish and the next morning she still has legs, her heart breaks a little but she still goes down to the water to wait. 

While she’s waiting she puts her toes into the cool ocean and suddenly there are no toes, there’s a silvery purple tail instead.  She slides into the water and for the first time in her life she feels like she’s home.  When the mermaid comes today they leave together, looking back at the shore one last time, but it doesn’t feel like she’s leaving something behind, it feels like her whole life is ahead of her.

anonymous asked:

Christmas with kids

They were still a tentative thing, his betrayal from before the summer still a fresh wound, his forgiveness still being earned, but it was Christmas and after spending the morning with his family, Castle had wanted to see her, to present her with some of the homemade cookies he and Alexis had spent Christmas Eve baking together. A peace offering for the holidays for her. 

But all of his calls had gone straight to voicemail, her desk at the Twelfth had been empty, and his last resort had been to contact her best friend, to learn her whereabouts, and take a cab to a children’s hospital in Washington Heights. Where Kate Beckett was volunteering on Christmas.

He had been hesitant to believe it when Lanie had finally caved and revealed the truth to him after a ridiculous amount of begging (and bribing), but the M.E had been telling him the truth about Beckett’s whereabouts that Christmas morning. For a few minutes, he merely watches her, sitting in a rocking chair with a little girl on her lap, reading to a small group of kids that have the attention span to listen, while others unwrap leftover presents, play with new toys. Her hair is in loose waves around her face, only gentle hints of makeup adorning her skin, enough to be complimented by the red of her sweater and the smile on her lips. She looks so soft, so content and at ease, so different from the woman he knows. 

Of course, Kate eventually senses his eyes on her, lifts her gaze from the Christmas storybook balanced in her hand to catch him watching through the window. She doesn’t linger, her lips moving to read aloud words he can’t hear, but once the story comes to an end and the book comes to a close, she’s easing the little girl off of her lap, smiling down a the few that had remained through her storytelling, excusing herself, and strides for the door.

His first instinct is to run, but she wouldn’t kill him on Christmas, would she?

Oh, that murderous glint in her eye tells him she might.

“Do I even want to know how you managed to figure out where I was?” she asks him, pulling the door shut behind her and arching her eyebrow in question. “Who did you bribe this information out of? Or should I guess, because I already have a pretty good idea who-”

“I just wanted to see you,” he blurts, diverting his eyes from the subtle widening of hers, down to the container of cookies still in his hands. “And I thought - I just wanted to give you these. Alexis and I made them.” 

Castle holds out the gingerbread cookies to her, breathes a silent sigh of relief when she accepts them after only a breath of hesitation. 

“And while I’m sure it doesn’t seem very believable, I wasn’t trying to invade your privacy. Again. But it’s kind of our first Christmas togeth- I mean, knowing each other and you’re important to me, so I had just hoped-”

“Castle,” she murmurs, sighs, reaching up to touch her fingers to his lips, a smile akin to the one he had seen mere seconds ago from behind the glass gracing her lips. But he’s gone still, breathless at the foreign touch, the leap of his heart in his chest at the simple graze of her fingertips. “This was very sweet, thank you.”

His own lips spill into a smile beneath her fingers, even as she lets them fall away and he has to resist the urge to catch them, hold them to his chest and draw her in closer. 

“I can go now,” he decides, choosing for once to let this be enough, to not push her for more than she’s already given, but Kate surprises him, offers him a Christmas miracle of sorts, and reaches for his hand. 

“If you have time, you can stay,” she suggests, her gaze on their loosely clasped hands. “You’d have to check in with the staff first, but I usually try to come up here once a month, spend some time with the kids, and I already know they’d love you.”

“Really?” he murmurs, glancing back to the window that offers a glimpse into the playroom filled with children, with a small decorated tree and the joy of kids on Christmas despite their circumstances. And suddenly he wants this, wants this tradition even though it’s hers, wants it to be something they can someday share.

“Of course, Castle. You’re pretty lovable,” she muses, pinning him with a glare the second his mouth falls open. “Don’t. Don’t ruin it.”

“I was only going to say the same about you,” he assures her, brushing a kiss of his thumb to the knuckles of her hand. “You’re quite lovable yourself, Detective Beckett.”

Lost together

“Sinfoooooyyyyy!” The girl shouted out into the woods, her small hands cupping her mouth.

“SIIIIINFFOOOOOOOYYYYYY!” She screamed louder.

“I WILL TELL MAMAMAMA YOU LEFT ME IN THE WOODS!” She screamed, her voice cracking from how hard she was screaming. But there came no response. Not even a snicker somewhere from her twin laughing at her distress.

“…You do not care. Baba will keep you from what you deserve.” Sighing, the girl moved to step over a rock and sit down on it, her hands resting under her chin as she looked out into the dense forest.

She didn’t know how to get back to the caravan. Sinfoy had led her out here then shoved her down a ditch and ran. Now she was all turned around and it was getting dark soon.


First Night With Their Baby

Ashton: He would be a nervous wreck omg. He probably wouldn’t even go to bed with you. He’d just sleep sitting in the rocking chair waiting for his baby girl to stir so that he could comfort her. The first time she cried he’d wake up completely delirious but once he recognized the sound he’d go full dad mode. Scooping her up in his arms and rocking/bouncing her gently. Eventually she’d fall back asleep and he’d just watch her in his arms. Looking at how small she was and how beautiful she was. Keeping her safe. 

Calum: okay cal wouldn’t want to show what a mushy dude he was so when your baby boy started crying he’d calmly tell you that he had this one. When he’d finally figured out that your child had a full diaper and needed changing he would talk to him bc he’s dork. He’d just be like “Jeez little dude how do you wear theses things?” And your child would just stare up at cal with big eyes not comprehending anything. Yet Cal would continue talking like “you look just like me little dude. Very, very handsome.” And by then his diaper was changed and he was fast asleep in Calum’s arms with a small smile. 

Luke: okay so little baby girl Hemmings would be starving and screeching for attention. Then Luke would groggily come into her room and secure her in his gentle arms and carry her to kitchen to get some milk. He’d put the full bottle in warm water too and test it on his wrist just to be safe. And as she ate he’d look down at her and get this sense of pride. He made this beautiful little girl with you. I think he’d just be so amazed at the fact that she was half him. He was gonna be the dad to protect her from mean boys and help her with her baking soda volcano. And of course teach her a little guitar along the way. 

Michael: okay so you’d be taking care of your baby boy trying to get him to stop his whining. Then Michael would come in half asleep and just tell you to go back to sleep bc you had already done the hard stuff like push that little bean out of your body. So he’d softly take him from you as you went back to the comfort of your bed. Turns out baby boy Clifford just wanted to snuggle a nice warm body and that’s where Michael came in. Your child’s cheek pressed against Michael’s shoulder, his tiny fist grasping Michael’s shirt. And he would lazily smile with his eyes closed and just say “I got ya bud, don’t worry.”


Birth Control (Daddy)

Requested: kind of

Y/N stood up from her bed, becoming impatient for Michael to come back to bed. He had gone into their daughter’s bedroom thirty minutes ago, maybe even more, to read her a story and tuck her in. But usually it would never take him that long.

Y/N walked into her toddler’s bedroom to find her husband sitting on the rocking chair, the little girl asleep on his lap. She observed Michael, his eyes were glued to his daughter. He wasn’t showing any emotion though, maybe he was tired.

“Hey,” she said as she stole their daughter from him. Y/N held the toddler tightly in her arms, placing a soft kiss to the little girl’s cheek.

“I never thought I could be so overprotective of her,” Michael whispered. “I mean, she’s barely three and I want to keep her to myself, I hate it when I don’t get to see her for a few hours.” Y/N offered a small smile at Michael, she had never thought he would be a very good dad. She had worried during her pregnancy that Michael wouldn’t be serious enough for a baby, but she had been proved wrong. Now she was worried he was a better parent than her.

“It’s cute,” she mumbled, her eyes staying on the baby in her arms.

“No, I mean, I can’t bring myself to think that I’ll eventually have to see her only on the mornings and after school. I can’t bring myself to think she’ll enjoy spending time with her friends more than spending time with us… One day she’ll have a boyfriend and then the other day I’ll find out she uses birth control-”

“Whoa, babe,” Y/N chuckled softly, “she’s only three.”

“Your dad must hate me so bad, I’m so sorry,” he said under his breath. She smiled as he bit his lip, lost in his thoughts.

“I’m gonna freak out for the birth control thing,” he said, holding Y/N’s gaze. She only shook her head before she turned on her heels to go put her daughter to sleep.

“Hey, smile,” she begged when she had placed the baby in the crib.

Michael only pouted before she grabbed his hand and helped him stand up. Y/N used her fingers to twitch Michael’s lips into a smile, making her giggle.

“We can always make more babies,” she suggested.

He finally gave her a smile that didn’t last for a long time, but still.

“I just love you both so much,” he sighed as he brought his wife closer to him.

“I know that.”


I wuz tagged by my girl 41stilllearning to stop, drop and selfie. Since it’s 8:30 on a Friday night, I’m sitting on the couch, rocking my baby girl to sleep and watching RuPaul’s Drag Race on the teevee. Cuz my life really is that painfully glamorous nowadays. Jealous? I guess I tag you if you’re jealous.