So I don’t know if someone has pointed this out/noticed yet…
I was born in Italy and therefore am fluent in Italian so Lorcan’s last name
immediately caught my eye I had a fit in the middle of maths. His last name Salvaterre roughly translates to ‘saviour of the lands’ in Italian. (If you want proof, put salva terre into Google translate and even though Google translate sucks you get the idea, I’m not making this up)
So as I carried on reading EoS I kept on coming back to his last name, I thought maybe he would aid the crew and save the lands from Erawan.
Clearly this did not happen I cry so this leads me to think that either we don’t know enough about Lorcan’s past or he will play a very important part in ToG6. This is just a theory but Sarah being the Queen of Foreshadowing I refuse to believe that his last name was a mistake or just coincidence.
Honestly, I’m just so disappointed with people saying YOI is not representation because it has ‘fan service’ in it. I had an incredible girlfriend whom lived in Russia, she took her own life because of the abuse she faced from being gay. My heart has never healed.
Seeing an LGBT Russian character has blown me away. I know that she would of been so happy to see that. YOI has so much to offer and give this world, regardless of the bits of fan service in there (which is now leading to a healthy relationship). Every time I see someone complaining about YOI being non representative and just for fujoshi, it seriously kicks me and my late gf in the teeth. You have no idea how important even the smallest bit of representation is until you have lived through hell yourself.
I love Yuuri growing out his hair not only because it looks um, AMAZING but also because it feels like, even if just on a subconscious level (which is what I imagine it would be), it shows a little more confidence in himself?
Like short hair is the norm for a man and doesn’t draw attention to you, but if he grew out his hair and had to pull it back, that’s much more attention grabbing. And to me, it shows a growing confidence in his own appearance, which is very, very important to me! Yuuri realizing he can be sexy and appealing is so much yes.
I love the idea of Yuuri wearing slightly more eye-catching clothes? Like occasionally brighter colors and patterns, and maybe sometimes, something a little flashier that still fits his personality. Maybe a little bit of Victor’s extra rubbing off on him, feeling okay and comfortable wearing expensive stuff sometimes. Just– being okay with people noticing him off the ice too. Maybe doing small things like piercing his ears (after all his sister has so many piercings, which is certainly unconventional where she’s from, so he may very well have thought about it), that he’d always thought about but never done because that’s something people NOTICE and he’s always tried to fade into the background.
Just Yuuri being gorgeous and maybe a part of him realizing that there’s nothing wrong with people thinking him as such. And Victor loves this, of course, because he wants nothing more than for Yuuri to gain confidence in all aspects of himself.
Listen, in the last twelve hours since making a perfectly measured response to a request, I have been called all kinds of names, been told that I shouldn’t be teaching, and been berated by a barrage of angry anons who feel that my students need their TWs before we discuss art with any kind of nudity. I take personal issue with those attack my career - I worked HARD to get here and teaching is my dream. Think before you speak - why say such ridiculous things? Don’t act like you can intuit the educational experience of my students from a simple post.
This is insane to me. The response I wrote was something I would tell any of my students, and I would tailor it accordingly if they expressed specific concerns. I had no idea why Anon requested what they did, so I wrote a generic reply attempting to explain why I believe it’s important we engage with art the way it was made.
From this point, I won’t reply to any messages, anon or not, that are disrespectful. I’ve been hurt, but not surprised, at many of the messages I’ve received, and I expect better from my fellow human beings.
Okay friends. So there are these “les lesbian binders” on amazon (I would add pics but idk how to do that on mobile so bear with me). THESE BINDERS ARE SHIT AND WILL FUCK YOU UP.
So early in my “am I trans” journey, I started with these binders. I was working a shitty job (y'all don’t even know like it’s some movie-worthy shit) and I had like no money. But these binders were like $5-$15 EACH. And I was like “fuck yeah gonna get me a chest I love at an affordable price” well, I did. But it came at a greater cost. Those binders don’t stretch. They are the equivalent of wearing ace bandages. AND I WORE THEM EVERY SINGLE DAY FOR SIX MONTHS. at one point I thought “you know what’s a fucking fantastic idea? IF I WORE TWO BINDERS ON TOP OF EACH OTHER” given they were both the shitty “les lesbian binders”. And, of course, I had hot flashes and felt like I was going to puke and all that good stuff. But I mean it was worth it right? No. It was not worth it. It royally fucked me up. I had bruises all over my chest and ribs, and when I say bruises I mean my entire chest was covered with purple and blue and occasionally black splotches. I go running (without the binder of course) and I can barely breathe, my lungs/ribs can’t expand as much as they used to. Now they can only expand as much as the binder constricted them to. I can only breathe in short/shallow breathes to where I get so light headed constantly. AND THATS WITHOUT THE BINDER. I used to be able to hold my breath for 2.5 minutes and run at least 2 miles without stopping (yeah I was healthier but I also had the ability to expand my lungs so much).
You’re probably thinking “but it could be worse” yeah it could be I could’ve broken a rib. Thank god I didn’t. Ive worn sports tape (Also a bad idea don’t do that) and those binders feel exactly like that.
So please, I beg of you, don’t buy those shitty binders and don’t use ace bandages and don’t use sports tape. Please save your future self. I know it’s hard, trust me I go through it everyday, but YOUR SAFETY COMES FIRST. GC2B and Underworks are great companies created by transguys that make great quality binders that are super comfy and safe. If you need the money just ask the transguy/trans masculine community like me and some other people will go out of our way to give you money for a safe binder. Please.
Pairing(s): main is Lams (Hamilton/Laurens), important to the plot is jeffmads (Jefferson/Madison)
Modern middle school AU (they’re in eighth grade)
Word count: 1706
Request: anon: can you make a story when John Lauren gets bullied again because he and Alex were officially dating and to help him Alex kisses him right in front of Thomas. Thomas is embarrassed but, thinks how he has a crush on James. So I guess it would be a Lams. :)
A/N: i had an idea for a sequel but it vanished so thank you so much for the request. i’m very happy with how this turned out, and i think this and Bullied are some of my best works. also, so sorry for taking an eternity to post this. i’ve had it written for a couple days but i was too lazy to post it. oops.
John ducked behind a door and watched Jefferson, Burr, and Madison keep going. He silently took off in the other direction, hoping with all of his heart that they wouldn’t notice.
No suck luck.
John swore under his breath as Jefferson caught up to him and grabbed his arm, wrenching it backwards.
“Your boyfriend can’t save you now, can he?” Burr taunted.
“You’re alone,” Madison added.
Jefferson punched John a little too hard on his shoulder, and John winced.
“I thought you’d leave me alone at this point,” he said, teeth gritted. “Alex destroys you every day in debate, and I thought you’d gotten over stepping on other people to make yourself look better.”
Jefferson’s expression soured, and he twisted John’s arm a little more. John bit his lip, trying to stifle his gasp of pain.
Some time later, John was finally alone, and he looked at the areas where he was hurt.
His ankle was probably twisted, and walking on it was going to be a painful experience. His arm was sore but there wasn’t any blood. He was bleeding from a cut somewhere on his other arm, though.
John got up and tentatively put weight on his twisted ankle. He hissed in pain. No way in hell could he walk on that.
He really didn’t want to call his father, so he called Alex instead.
“Hey, what’s up?” Alex answered.
“I’m hurt,” John said. “Jefferson got me and my ankle is twisted and I can’t walk.”
Alex immediately assumed a businesslike tone. “Where are you?”
“Somewhere near the school.”
“Okay, I’m coming. I’ll be there in a minute.” There was a click as Alex hung up, and John sank to the ground, leaning against a convenient brick wall. He clenched a fist as pain radiated from his ankle, then closed his eyes and leaned his head back.
“Damn you, Jefferson!”
Alex’s angry shout alerted John to his presence.
“Alex, chill. It’s no big deal. I’m used to it,” John said, and Alex shook his head, looking tormented.
“No. They keep hurting you and you just take their shit and I am so done with their shit. You don’t deserve this.”
“Oh, hey, look, it’s the gay,” Jefferson said. John was at his locker, forgetting his combination.
“Gay isn’t a noun, Jefferson,” he responded, giving up and spinning the lock to reset it.
“Are you sure? You look like it to me,” Jefferson continued.
John finally managed to open his locker. He shoved his backpack inside, pulled out the binders he needed, and then slammed the door shut. He turned to face Jefferson.
“I am so done with your shit,” he said. He was shaking slightly and hoped the bully wouldn’t notice. “You endlessly make fun of me for being gay and I am done with it. You know, they say that people often bully others who are something that they secretly are.”
Maybe he was imagining it, but John thought he saw a faint blush on Jefferson’s face. Jefferson quickly covered it with a sneer. “That’s a load of crap and you know it.”
John shrugged, then disappeared into the stream of people without another word.
“Was he implying that you’re secretly gay?” Madison asked, and Jefferson scratched the back of his neck.
“That’s what it seemed like to me,” Burr agreed.
John was on the verge of tears by lunchtime. Jefferson had called out various taunts over the heads of people in the halls, and whispered snide comments under his breath in history and debate. John didn’t think anybody had noticed. He was hurt and felt so, so alone.
“You. Outside. Now.”
John looked up and sighed. Jefferson was standing in front of him. He knew what would happen if he didn’t follow-they’d drag him along anyway-and it was just easier to go take the beating.
When they got outside, Jefferson turned so his back was to the cafeteria. “What was up with you implying that I’m secretly gay earlier?”
John didn’t know what to say. “I was just quoting something I’d found on the internet.”
“Don’t you know to not take everything that you see on the internet seriously?” Jefferson asked, hitting John’s arm lightly. It didn’t hurt, and John was surprised.
Approximately two seconds later, however, Jefferson kicked John’s shin, and that hurt. John winced and dug his nails into his palms.
“Hey, go find someone else to abuse,” a voice cut in. Alex.
“I won’t have you hurting him anymore,” Alex continued, pushing Jefferson away from John.
“Why? Do you love him?” the bully teased.
“Maybe,” Alex responded, kissing John. John was taken aback for a moment but then kissed back. Alex drew back and John enjoyed Jefferson’s expression. Jefferson mumbled something and Alex turned.
“I heard the word ‘crush’ in there?”
Jefferson blushed furiously. “No you didn’t.”
“Your cheeks say otherwise,” John pointed out, and Jefferson glared at him before stalking back inside.
“Well, we showed him, don’t you think?” Alex said triumphantly, turning to John, who had a scheming glint in his eyes.
“I have an idea.”
So, who is it?
John grinned as Jefferson’s forehead wrinkled up in confusion before turning to him and Alex, rightfully assuming that they were the ones behind the note. Jefferson scribbled something and passed the note back.
I don’t have a crush on anyone, and if I did, it wouldn’t be a guy.
Alex grabbed the note and wrote, I bet it’s Burr or Madison. They’re the only two people who can stand you.
John held in a laugh as he passed it to Jefferson. Jefferson blushed, so much that it was plain to see. He angrily wrote something down.
I don’t have a crush and even if I did I sure as hell wouldn’t tell you.
John took the paper this time. It’s Madison, isn’t it? I’ve seen the way you look at him.
Jefferson turned to them and very deliberately ripped the note into pieces, pocketing the shreds.
Alex was attacked by a fit of silent giggles, and Jefferson’s glare intensified until John was actually leaning back from the force of it.
“It’s totally Madison,” Alex said confidently as he and John were walking to their second period. “If not, why did he rip it up?”
John shrugged. “I dunno. Guess we’ll find out.” ~
Thomas Jefferson was the biggest hypocrite ever.
He was at home, in his bedroom, curled up in bed, head in his hands, trying to think of what to do.
They know. They know. They know.
The words kept repeating themselves in his brain, flinging themselves around his skull.
He was sure that Hamilton and Laurens had guessed who his crush was, and that they would relentlessly tease him. How could he overcome this? He had bullied Laurens for being the very thing that he himself was hiding.
If that wasn’t hypocritical, then nothing was.
He took a deep breath and sat up, his mind clearing somewhat. He had an idea. It was probably the stupidest idea he’d ever had, and would land him in a lot of shit, but it was worth a try. Better to ruin his own reputation than let his enemies do it for him.
“Wait. Wait. What’s going on over there?” John asked. A mild commotion was taking place on the opposite side of the cafeteria. Someone whistled, and laughter rang out.
Alex, John, Hercules, and Lafayette went to investigate.
Jefferson was kissing Madison.
John started laughing, a mix of cold, harsh laughter and surprise.
Alex just stood there, dumbfounded.
Hercules and Lafayette were both saying something, but John didn’t hear anything. Jefferson and Madison broke apart, grinning, and John marched up to them, getting right in Jefferson’s face.
“You owe me one hell of an explanation.” He was beginning to shake from the force of his anger.
Jefferson’s eyes darted around and his smile fell. “I–oh, damn, I do. Um.”
John tapped his foot. “You bullied me for being gay. Bullied me a lot. You did too,” he added, turning to Madison. “You egged him on.” He turned back to Jefferson. “And now you’re kissing each other in the middle of the cafeteria.”
“Sorry,” Jefferson mumbled.
“Sorry? Sorry? Sorry doesn’t fix this. It’s gone a bit far for sorry now. I got hurt physically in a lot of ways. Every time you came after me, I had to go to the nurse or the clinic or, once, the hospital. And that’s not even counting the emotional pain. Do you know what you made me go through?”
“Well, what do you want me to do?” Jefferson asked, fire flashing briefly in his eyes. “Is an apology not good enough for you?”
“No!” John exclaimed, wringing his hands around. He’d completely forgotten that other people were in the room, hanging onto his every word. “I don’t even know what I want you to do. I’ll let you know when I think of something. A formal written apology would be a good place to start. But you can’t beat up someone every goddamned day for months and then turn around and be the biggest hypocrite that’s ever existed.”
John angrily stormed out of the crowd, and Alex followed, jogging to keep up with his boyfriend’s quick steps.
“Here,” Alex said, gently steering John into the library. “Nobody’s here.”
John collapsed at a table. He looked up, and Alex saw the tears in his eyes. “Alex…” he whispered.
Alex grabbed another chair and sat right next to John, pulling him into a tight hug. “You showed him. You really did. I’m so, so proud of you.”
John laughed weakly. “I…I didn’t say enough…” he mumbled into Alex’s shirt. “He’s not gonna pay enough for the hell he put me through.”
Alex kissed him, deeply. “You’ll think of something.”
John finally smiled a tiny smile and kissed Alex back. “I will.”
Their lips met again and John forgot his problems. All that mattered was Alex, Alex, Alex. He smiled against Alex’s lips, and he knew that there was hope, knew that he’d come up with some kind of punishment, knowing that right now it didn’t matter.
“I love you,” they said in unison, and then they hugged.
Likes are appreciated, reblogs are amazing, and nice comments or constructive criticism (even if it’s just ADGEYYHEWTWY) make my day :)
Summary: Based off of this moment in the manga. Ciel finds Sebastian in the library just like he had asked him to and is forced to hide under his cloak to hide himself from the person who had followed him. He tries to be quiet, but unfortunately, Sebastian seems to remember that Ciel is ridiculously ticklish and of course, takes advantage of the situation.
Author’s note: HAI I’M BACK. Okay, this was both a request from lovely Anon and my own idea that I’ve been wanting to write for a while. So glad I was finally able to finish this~ Even though Ciel and Sebastian are still hard to write l i k e but I still love them uwu
Word count: 1,6k my shortest one yet wooops
Maybe Sebastian had managed to get his hands on some important information but it was still very out of character for him to ask Ciel to come to the library at exactly 11pm. Of course he wasn’t scared to wander around the halls late at night but if he got lost, it would be pretty bad. After waiting for McMillan to fall asleep, Ciel put on his uniform, reached for a small lamp he kept under his bed and tip-toed out of the dorm.
Unsurprisingly, no one crossed his path. Every now and then, he’d hear a small whistle of the wind or the wood creaking under his heels, but other than that, he was alone. Ciel was sure to look over his shoulder quite frequently to make sure that no one was following him because, oddly enough, he thought he heard distant footsteps but who the hell would be walking around at this hour? Of course it would be stupid to call for someone or mumble some innocent “Hello?” because Ciel was well aware of the fact that he was not allowed to be out of bed.
Glancing around one more time, Ciel did his best to open the doors of the library as quietly as he possibly could and wiggled himself through the small gap he had created for himself.
Sebastian could’ve at least told him where he would be waiting in this gigantic room because Ciel really didn’t feel like checking behind every bookcase. Luckily, it didn’t take him that long to catch a glimpse of Sebastian’s long robe and he stopped walking, relieved.
“Hey, Se— Hmpf!” Ciel had no idea whether it was Sebastian using his powers or that he was just a tad bit underweight, but in less than a mere second he was pressed against the dusty books with his butler’s face very close to his own, his feet hovering an inch or so above the ground. A gloved hand was covering mouth while his hand, that had been holding the lamp, was pinned against one of the shelves.
However, instead of giving an explanation like Ciel had expected, Sebastian’s glowering eyes merely stared at him in a semi-reassuring way, but the current situation was anything but.
Ciel’s eyes widened and didn’t protest when Sebastian lifted up his cloak and wrapped an arm around Ciel’s waist to pull him under it, taking the lamp and holding it with his free hand. The footsteps became louder and through the thin fabric, Ciel saw Lawrence Bluewer approaching them, also holding a lamp and appearing to be looking for something or, well, someone.
“My. What could it be at this hour?” Sebastian’s smooth voice spoke up and Ciel rolled his eyes, lightly nudging him with his elbow.
Instead of scolding him, Sebastian was acting stupid and it annoyed Ciel. It was rather hot and stuffy underneath that cloak so the last thing he wanted was for Sebastian to make small-talk. The hand on his waist threateningly tightened its grip but instead of silencing him with it, Ciel’s entire body froze and a small gasp went past his lips.
So much of the Spoonie community (my own blog included) is dedicated to laugh at our respective nightmares, while also expressing our frustrations with living a life that is unimaginable to able bodies. Don’t get me wrong, I think we need a place to put that anger, pain, and unrest. But I also think it’s important to recognize the benefits of being sick.
Yes, benefits, no sarcasm intended or meant. Whether you are a spoonie living full time on your couch, or part time in the hospital, we’ve all had days where we’ve seen healthy people doing activities we remember being able to do without paying a toll. I remember handing a prof my thirteenth sick note of the term and him making a comment along the lines of “I wish I could afford as many sick days as you.” That cut me incredibly deep because I have always strived for perfection to the degree of self destruction, and he had no idea just how much I would have loved the freedom to go to school without my body telling me no. I wanted a life that was bigger than my body and here was this prof living without health restrictions, jealous of my ball and chain.
This isn’t an essay about the importance of living your fullest, etc. This is a message to you that it is okay (and important) to recognize and grieve the life that was taken from you by your illness. My illness stripped every part of my identity from me one bit at a time, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but half a shaved head and some PTSD. Each time I thought it’d had the last of me, I found something else I was no longer able to do. It was horrible, I’m not going to lie. The worst part of being sick is watching others live the life you’d imagined for yourself and knowing you can never have it.
But in that horror, in that blinding white anger and sadness, you are forced to reinvent yourself. You are forced to learn that nothing matters and at the end of the day, the person you thought you were is just as easily replaced by the person you could become. Grieve your losses, but be okay with a fresh start. Being sick forces you to try new things, new strategies in keeping sane and happy, and that’s not so different from what our able-bodied counterparts are looking for either.
There are always things to be grateful for. If this year hurt you, be thankful it’s almost dead and you’re alive. And there are ways to live a productive, fulfilling life, even in the most unexpected manner possible. That is the perk of being sick; you know that you are more than your illness, your job, your aesthetic, you know that for every curveball thrown, you can adjust, morph, and reinvent yourself into the person you deserve to be.
“The economic opportunities of my parents were destroyed by the civil war in Uganda. Our family was displaced, and my parents couldn’t farm to provide for our education. I started making bricks when I was 15 so I could pay for school. My parents weren’t able to provide me and my siblings with all the things that many other kids had. But they gave us the most important thing: safety. If they hadn’t left the village for a place where we were not in danger of being captured by the rebels, I don’t know where I would be today. Once, sixteen of my friends were abducted by rebels. Only three came back. I have no idea what happened to my other friends. I don’t know if they are still alive. The rebels trained kids to become rebels like them. If you were caught trying to escape, they shot you in front of everyone.”
“I still dream about those boys you know,” she says quietly.
stopped wondering how many of them actually made it home.
I wasn’t allowed to take my own camera with me to Burma but after I got
home all the boys started sending me their pictures. A lot found it hard
to speak about the war and I used to get lots of
letters from their families about that. Unless you experienced it you
had no idea what it was like.
That’s why it’s so important that schools teach children what it was all
about. So we never, ever forget.
I’d always tried to imagine I was
sitting at home by the fire, singing to people in the same room. But I
became a messenger, linking separated people.
It is very
humbling that people still refer to me as the Forces Sweetheart. I just
saw it as my duty to keep on singing. I thought that tag would disappear
after the war and I’d just be another singer.
The best thing was being able to chat to the boys. I’d go round the
casualty tents, sit on beds and hold their hands. Some
used to get quite upset. Many had been away for six years and I
reminded them of their sisters, their sweethearts, their wives – the
home life they were fighting for.
I was in the air and the news came over.
We all gave a cheer and said, ‘Well, that’s it. It’s all over’ and had a
glass of champagne. But I remember wondering how many of the boys I’d
been singing too had missed out too. So many of them never came home.”
Happy 99th Birthday to the Forces Sweetheart, Dame Vera Lynn! (March 20th 1917)