i feel safest there

anonymous asked:

I know that The Cars and the Gary Numan song where the namesakes for Kars, but I don't see any resemblences between his personality and the music. Do you?

I suspect that was one of the cases where the name of the band sounded so cool as a name that matching the music to the character didn’t matter that much.

[reaching mode on] Unless you wanna read Gary Numan’s song as sort of a metaphore for being closed off emotionally as a safety measure (”I feel safest of all / I can lock all my doors / It’s the only way to live”)

As for The Cars, something from these?:

I think the safest feeling is when someone knows the sides of you that aren’t pretty or lovable and they still love you.

you can tell them thoughts that aren’t filtered by the mask you have to wear around everyone else. you know it’s ok because they aren’t the type to form unrealistic ideas of you and leave when that’s broken

they listen to you without judgement, they don’t force unsolicited advice, they don’t ignore the problem… But they pick out the good things like flowers so the bad things don’t seem so bad anymore

it’s a strong and unconditional love because they love you, not the idea of you… it’s a soft comfy feeling to know that. The world becomes more bearable around them, they’re like a human form of solace

For Butch Lesbians!

As lesbians, a deeply important part of our community has always been butches. When I see a butch woman, I see someone who exudes confidence in her own skin, even if it took a battle to get there. I see someone who makes me feel even more confident in being myself. And there are lots of us who really, really appreciate you and what you mean to us.

(the main cast of StudvilleTV- lesbian webseries about studs in Atlanta)

“butches are everything
until i saw an older butch woman on the street, passing me with a smile, i didnt think i had a future - of loving women, of being butch, or any at all”

“Butches are so stunning, honestly, nothing makes my heart melt more than a butch lesbian walking around. If I had more guts I would ask y'all out. There’s nothin like being gender nonconforming y'all make me hope for better times“

“Butch women are amazing and perfect and my heart rejoices every time I see a butch woman.”

“I always find myself feeling safest around other butches. <3″

(KD Lang- singer)

“butches are the glue that holds this community together, and without them we wouldn’t be where we are today. they’re powerful, gentle, and absolutely necessary. everything is made better with butches tbh, and there’s no one I’d rather spend my life with a breathtaking butch.”

“butches give me life! they are the backbone of the lesbian community and i love them to death! they make me weak in the knees, good god 😍❤🌈😍❤🌈😍❤🌈😍❤🌈“

(Alison Bechdel- cartoonist and memoirist)

“Butches are the best! I love butches at all life stages, baby butches to college jock butches to professional butches to mama butches to crone butches, all perfect now and forever 💗”

“i’ve been so lucky to get to know a number of older asian butch women. as a gnc lesbian i had no role models growing up and had to find my own way, and these women helped me so much at a time where i thought i should give up, either go back into the closet or consider a different identity altogether. i love their confidence and sense of humor, and seeing them around other women reassured me that i wasn’t predatory just for my sexual orientation, despite what lesbophobes think. i’m going to meet one of these women again after a very long time next month and i’m so excited to reconnect, share thoughts, learn, and be.“

(Hanifah Walidah-writer, filmmaker, singer of St.Lô)

“butch lesbians are some of the kindest people I’ve ever met. they radiate strength and bravery and being around butches is a positively healing experience. there’s nothing in the world id rather be than a butch lesbian.“

(art by @female-tribbers​)

Whether you’re an old school butch who’s been out for years and years, a butch settled into herself, a butch coming into her own, a baby butch just coming out, or anything, please know that our community loves and appreciates you so, so much, and that your fellow butches have your back, and the rest of us do, too. You’re brave and important for existing as yourselves in a world that doesn’t make it easy. We care about you and we love you, we all do. I hope you’re having a great day today and tomorrow and every day!

Watch Me Babygirl [pt.8]

Summary: Jungkook is your brother’s annoying best friend. You can’t stand him but he just can’t resist teasing you. How far will he actually go?

Warnings: slight language

[pt.1] [pt.2] [pt.3] [pt.4] [pt.5] [pt.6] [previous part] [next part] [pt.10] [pt.11]  [pt.12] [pt.13] [pt.14]

Jungkook huffed, annoyed. He’d spent the last two hours with you, sitting in a blanket fort in his basement watching dumb movies.

“When you said you wanted talk to me about stuff, I thought you meant verbally,” he grumbled, pulling you closer to him.

You nuzzled the back of your head against his chest and sighed.

“I did and I will…” you replied.

To be honest, you were simply nervous about talking to him about what you had in mind. Ever since Taehyung had come clean about him and your brother, you’d been thinking that maybe, just maybe, you should come clean to Jimin about you and Jungkook. Another part of you reasoned that it wasn’t the right time now and that it would never be the right time.

You felt Jungkook sigh deeply, his breath breath blowing your hair ever so slightly.

Taking in a deep breath of your own and releasing it, you plucked up the courage to talk to Jungkook about coming clean.

“I wasn’t guilty about sneaking around at first…” you paused, taking a shaky breath. “But then Taehyung told me about him and Jimin and I suddenly felt like, I don’t know, maybe we should tell Jimin about us.

“Another part of me is still not ready to tell Jimin. I just- I just don’t know what to do Jungkook. I really want to be with you. You mean a lot to me.”

Jungkook nodded, his chin hitting the top of your head lightly.

“Well…” he began slowly. “What if we pretended like we were slowly becoming friends? Like, I stop giving you grief in public and you stop throwing sassy comments my way in return. We look like we’re becoming friends, like we’re changing for each other because we like each other- which isn’t far from the truth to be honest- and warm him up to the idea.”

Keep reading

So three years ago today, I stumbled out of the arrivals area of Vienna International Airport - incredibly anxious and a little afraid - to meet someone I’d grown to care a lot about during the months prior.

“What if he doesn’t like me? What if this is just a one-time deal? What if I fuck it up?”

And then I saw him, and all my fears evaporated. He had the biggest smile on his face and his eyes were the brightest thing in the room. He gathered me up in a big bear hug and I knew right then and there - with my glasses being crushed against his chest - that this was exactly what I wanted.

Three years later, and I still see that same glimmer in his eyes. He still makes my heart skip a beat and his arms are still the one place I feel safest. I couldn’t ask for anything more ❤

I love you, Muhi ❤

#(also I swear the mods here ship Riju and Link)

I can’t speak for the other mods but I most certainly do. 2-3 years isn’t much of an age gap and there is a bit of dialogue where Riju specifically tells Link to be sure and come back when she’s older. Sure she give the pretext of it being  to return the Thunder Helm but I think her diary shows she’s got herself a bit of a crush going. Riju’s playing the long game here.

Link is of course oblivious and Buliara thinks Riju is just falling over herself for the first voe she’s ever met.

I could go on but I’m sure nobody wants to see me go on for paragraphs of jumping through hoops to make Link x Riju (Rink? Liju?) work. 

Also I love reading the tags you guys put on our posts!


[Lonely Voe]


They called it The Sight, in the whisper soft conversation outside the darkroom or in the iron-guarded walls of the metal shop. The ways to peel back the glamours that wind around them and see what should not be seen. But my senses have always been a bit crossed, and what maybe should have manifested in silver tracework and parted veils just… never did.

I’ve never seen the fae beneath their glamour. These eyes weren’t made for anything beyond the mundane.

But I’ve smelled them.

I’ve tasted the loam and pollen and salt in the way light glints off their smile.

I’ve felt, cold against my palms, their laughter and their mirth.

I’ve heard the electric crackle of their confusion, and the shattering glass dischord of their triumph.

On cold nights, buried in blankets and furs to fight off the last lingering remnants of winter chill, I’ve played guessing games with myself. Are the girls across the hall burning incense or did the changeling downstairs bring someone home? Are the songbirds who took up residence outside my window trilling a few late night messages or did someone’s eyes and eyes and eyes catch just right in the moonlight? Did my arm fall asleep from laying on it wrong, or are there eyes watching through the window again, and now I have to get up again and triple check that there’s still a few iron nails on my window sill and that my washer-strung necklace got left over the doorknob and that the ramen flavor packets I’ve saved up haven’t been knocked off the four posts of my bed…

It was curious, and then it was frightening, and then it was boring. I learned not to eat lunch on the front lawn, because the laughter of the boys playing ball out there made my teeth ache and my tongue flood with lemon. I learned how to identify them by sight, or smell, or at worst case touch, by the music that started echoing in my ears. 

It was a good tool. Useful, beautiful more often than not.

And when I found them, the one with a voice like honey and gravel and a smell like the deepest safest forest, I couldn’t see but could feel the curve of great arching horns over their head and the curl of a tail against my leg. I traded a picture for a story, and drew them while they told it, and when the exchange was made they stared at the creature I’d drawn, curling fur and light hooves and goat-slit pupils curled up in delight, like they were seeing a ghost.
“The colors are wrong,” they said at last. I didn’t respond, but I worried I’d stepped too far, shown too many of my cards. “I like them,” they murmured, and leaned forward to peck a kiss on my nose. “Don’t die, sweet thing.” They turned and left, the smell of honeydew and lavender still curling in my nose, and in that moment I would have given anything to see them true, the shift and curl of their too many limbs as they walked, the glint of light off smooth horns.

They gave me a ream of origami paper, I sang them the sounds of the texture of their skin.

They gave me a marble paper weight, I gave them a chunk of wood carved to the texture of their smile.

They gave me a flower that bloomed in starlight, I mixed soaps from a trip to Lush until I could mimic the smell of their embrace.

I gave them a kiss and they offered me sight, and they tasted like hope and home, and I couldn’t have said no if I’d wanted.

You shouldn’t let the fae see you have the sight or they’ll scratch your eyes out.
When the perception’s not in your eyes they have to get more creative.

Scared Of The Storm

Group: BTS


Excerpt: “lightning storms can be very striking,” as he looked down at you to see if you laughed; he just saw your wide eyes filled with tears and it suddenly dawned on him how scared you were.

Genre: fluff / angst

Length: 1.1k

Warnings: mentions of anxiety

A/N: anyone want to be my storm buddy?

Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin

The rain had begun softly, you watched as droplets made paths down the window and almost liked the calming rhythmic sound; you knew your boyfriend enjoyed the delicate pitter-patter as he often listened to the sound of rain whilst writing lyrics.

But you had heard the forecast on your drive to campus, so you weren’t completely falling for the calming sound when there was a promise of a big storm.

Keep reading

honestly when I was isolated and closeted and straight people would talk so negatively about gay people who “made it their whole personality” or whatever, it’d make me so anxious and sad. It was always presented like there were

The Good Gays, who were Just Like Everyone Else, and liked straight things, looked Just Like Everyone Else, and didn’t talk about being gay, and definitely didn’t ‘shove it in anyone’s face’ or let it ‘define them.’ 

and then there were

The Bad Gays, who, from what I could tell, were flamboyant gay men and butch lesbians (f*gs and d*kes), proudly out gay people, gay people who liked rainbows and gay culture, politically active gay people, gay people who talked about being gay all the time, gay people with lisps, gay people who are angry, gay people who don’t “pass” as straight, gay people who love being gay and being around other gay people

And I spent so much time early on internally scolding myself. I thought it was wrong to think & talk about being gay 24/7 and enjoy gay culture and feel safest in LGBT spaces. I would always feel guilty and embarrassed every time I brought up anything gay. I thought maybe after a while I’d ‘get it out of my system’ or something and not feel the need for it to ‘define me’ anymore, but it never went away, that intense connection and joy from LGBT spaces and culture. 

But now, look: I have this blog where I can just share every gay thought I have with y’all day after day and no one’s annoyed with me for it. In fact, it’s something that’s appreciated! And I can follow a hundred other blogs by folks doing the same. 

I am The Bad Gay and I love Bad Gays. I’m so relieved to have found you all.

anonymous asked:

cn bathroom bills, rape. My mother (who means well, but is misguided) is sincerely worried that male pedophiles and rapists will say they are transgender women and go into women's bathrooms and locker rooms if transgender women are allowed to go. Obviously this is wrong but I'm not as clever as you and maybe you have a smart comeback to persuade her it's wrong, which I don't? Thanks for the help if you can.

There’s a lot of angles you can take this from, like how rapists aren’t known for their scrupulous adherence to laws and boundaries anyway, and how trans women are victims of sexual assault far more than perpetrators, and how we don’t have single-gender elevators or stairwells or alleyways because we don’t actually use physical segregation of the genders as a sexual assault prevention method.

Or you could point out that there’s no way to tell if someone is a trans woman without being hideously invasive to every bathroom user, trans or not, who could possibly be perceived as masculine/androgynous.

But maybe the best point is that trans people aren’t actually a new invention.  We’ve been around for millennia and we’ve been using public restrooms in the US for as long as there’s been such a thing.  We’ve been using whatever bathroom we feel safest in.  I guarantee your mother has shared a public bathroom with a trans women and never known it.  This whole debate is framed like it’s a bold new experiment in gender frontiers, but it’s actually not.  Trans women have already been using women’s facilities, and there has been no epidemic of trans women (real or claimed) attacking cis women in bathrooms.  We don’t have to debate about what “would” or “could” happen, because this experiment has been quietly running for decades, and it’s been fine.