i hope it actually is from i am what i am

anonymous asked:

Could you do either jealous!draco or jealous!harry? You're writing is amazing btw!!!💚

thanks for 5k followers!


“I can’t believe Potter is dating that she-weasel!” Draco groaned and threw himself on an armchair dramatically. “I mean, what does she even see in her!”

“Potter’s dating Ginny? I thought they broke up end of sixth year?” Pansy inquired.

Draco sneered. “They got back together. I hate it. They way they’re always snogging in public where everyone can see. It’s disgusting.” He crossed his arms and pouted. “Stupid Potter.” Pansy closed her book and smirked at him. “What?” He snapped.

“You’re jealous!”

Draco scoffed. “Oh please. I am not jealous.”

“Could you want him more?”

“I’m am not jealous, Pansy. I am envious. Jealousy is being protective of what you already have and since I do not have a Potter I cannot be jealous of the Weaslette.” He explained irritable. Just then Harry Potter walked in with Ginny Weasley. Draco glared at them while Pansy looked at her best friend sadly.

“Okay. I’m going to go to the library to study with Luna.” She told her boyfriend.

Harry smiled brightly at her, a smile that Draco always wished would be directed at him. Harry kissed her and she left. He sat down on the couch that Pansy was on, smiling softly to himself. The three of them had gotten close ever since Pansy and Hermione started going out. Draco flipped a page in his book forcefully.

“Isn’t she just great?” Harry sighed dreamily.

“Yeah she’s a real doll.” Draco said, trying to sound bored. Harry laughed. “What?”

“Nothing. That just reminded me of a joke Ginny told me. When is a doll not a doll?”

Draco didn’t answer, but flipped another page in his book violently, almost ripping it. Pansy turned around to face Harry and put on a smile. “When?”

“When it’s a dollar.” Harry started giggling and so did Pansy. Draco gave a fake, meek laugh, without taking his eyes off of his book. “You okay, Malfoy?”

Draco looked up. “Yeah I’m fine. Just tired.” He faked a yawn and shut his book. “I think I’m just gonna go to bed. Good night.” He left the room just as Hermione walked in. She sat next to Pansy who put her arms around her girlfriend.

“Hey.” She greeted them, kissing her girlfriend. “What’s up?” Pansy kissed her back, lingering a bit longer, hoping Harry would leave. Eventually he did so they pulled apart. Hermione smiled softly. “What was that for?”

“I wanted to get Potter to leave… also because I wanted to.”

Hermione giggled and kissed her nose. “Why did you want Harry to leave?”

Pansy smiled. “Draco likes Harry.” She sang.

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Heal Me // Doctor!Shawn (A Soulmate AU)

Your car jerks, wheels skidding on the ice beneath the freshly fallen snow. Driving on ice wasn’t something new to you. You drop your gear, slowing your engine and brake slowly. Just like your dad showed you. The bottom of the hill is approaching, slowly, steadily. There is no one driving along the cross street and you figure you’ll go ahead and coast through the intersection. It was only another couple blocks until you were home. Suddenly you jerk forward, head hitting the steering wheel, you car goes careening into the embankment that goes to a sewage run off canal. There’s a flash of red and you see a large truck skidding past your car as you slide into the canal sideways. Everything happens so fast you aren’t sure if you’re right side up or upside down. There’s a loud crunching, something hits you in the back of the head, glass shatters and you are jarred to a very sudden stop. The world is spinning, your head hurts and your leg feels like someone is sitting on it. You glance down and there is blood all over your jeans.

“Hello?! Are you awake?!” someone, a man, yells from far away.

You can’t see anything, vision spotty and snow covering your windshield. You look to your left and see your phone beside you…on the window. The car is on it’s side. “Help!” you yell but you can’t help but feel like it’s not quite loud enough. “Help! My leg!” your voice is weak and you start to cry, tears burning your eyes, pain and frustration getting the best of you.

“I’ve called for help!” the male voice shouts, still quite far away. “Are you hurt?!”

“My leg….my leg,” you sob, voice cracking. There’s a bitter sweet acrid smell permeating the air and suddenly you can’t breathe. It was suffocating, sickeningly sweet. You knew that smell. It was antifreeze leaking from your car. Your heart races, you’re scared that this is the end. This was how you died. In a flipped car, asphyxiated on chemical fumes and bleeding to death. You pass out, the smell and the pain in your leg overwhelming you.  

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#MeToo

It took me years to address the two separate assaults I have experienced. I had no idea what sexual assault was when they happened. I actually suppressed the memory of one until a few years ago. I am still healing from said experiences.

Harassment happens almost on a daily basis due to living in a city. I’ve been followed home. I’ve been cat called. I’ve even been called derogatory terms at work.

I am scared to say that I have been assaulted, but I hope that me sharing my experience will let others know that you are not alone. I am always here to talk.

1/5 back to school 2017 masterposts

school is starting soon (or has already started) and i also wanted to somehow thank you guys for 7k in a way other than the usual blog rate or blog awards. keep a look out for the other 4!

this is a collab with @studyruels. his masterpost is on making an aftetschool routine which you can check out here!

now, i’m naturally a morning person. i just am, and i always have been. no matter how late i go to bed my body thinks it’s a great idea to noT sleep in and wake up at 6 am every day (’: here are a few things i do to make it a little easier and enjoy my mornings!

1. GO TO BED EARLY. this is honestly a no brainer but STOP SPENDING HOURS ON YOUR PHONE WTH like it’s so harmful for your eyes and your mind and your brain and your body will thank you in the morning when your eyes aren’t burning with exhaustion. 

1.a. when i decided to stop being an irresponsible smol child who tried to stay up every night, i started setting alarms for going to sleep. so like at 9:00 (ok ik thats pretty early but thats usually when i go to bed), or maybe that’ll be like 10:00 or 10:30 for you so that you can go to bed around 11. but anyways, when you hear this alarm, it’s time to get off of your phone or laptop (-: send your gn streaks and texts, close insta (log out if u have to), and shut it all down. soon after, you will start to notice how tired you actually are without all that blue light distracting you !!!

2. read! this is a personal favorite just because i’m a huge nerd but reading right before bed is just killing 2 birds with one stone: you’re exercising your mind and subconsciously improving your writing skills (vocabulary and grammar) while making yourself very tired!! if you think reading, especially at night, is boring, you aren’t reading the right books for you.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

3. prepare yourself for the morning so it seems less dreadful. OPEN YOUR BLINDS BEFORE BED JUST DO IT OMG you will wake up with the sun. do a little miniclean of your room before bed so you’re not waking up to yesterday’s disaster. make your coffee the night before and leave it in the fridge if you like it iced in the morning. plan out what you’re going to wear tomorrow, as well as your lunch. shower (so u sleep better and/or dont have to do it in the morning) and brush your teeth. pamper yourself. set up fairy lights. just do anything that will cause you to wake up and go “jeez glad i did that last night; now i have more time and peace of mind”. 

4. find something to look forward to in the morning. this might be going to get coffee or tea with a friend in the morning, getting to wear the cute outfit and eat the delicious lunch that you prepped last night, or remembering that you’re going to see a movie after school. whatever it may be, let it motivate you to get up and start your day as soon as possible. 

5. turn off/disable snooze. do it. if your alarm app can’t do this, install an app that can. i also like to set up my alarm so that i have to do some challenging mental math to turn it off. 

5.a. make your alarm something that will cause you to get up. it doesn’t necessarily have to be something really annoying. it can be something upbeat and light that puts you in a good mood for the day. however, if you’re a really heavy sleeper then you might want to make it some obnoxious and loud sound so that you will be motivated just to get out of bed and turn it off. 

6. put your phone across the room. we’ve all heard of this one but most of us are too lazy to do it. at night, when you whip out that book, log off all your social media and then put your phone somewhere so far that you’ll have to physically get out of bed and turn off the alarm.

7. make your bed suit your aesthetic. this derives from the basic “make your bed” tip. sure, you can make your bed, and sure, it might motivate you to not get back in. but if you really struggle with this, buy one of those prepackaged bed sets that has a nice color scheme. once you make your bed, you’re not going to want to ruin that aesthetic tbh

8. keep a consistent sleep schedule, even on the weekends!! i’m not saying you have to wake up at 6 am even on saturdays, but don’t go from waking up at 6 to waking up at 12. maybe push your wake up time to 8:30 or 9 latest on the weekends. as you get used to waking early (and sleeping early, too!) you can slowly push back your weekend wake up time earlier and earlier until it’s almost identical to the time you wake up when you have school.


i hope this helps! good luck with this school year, everyone!

#switching #owling #bumping into each other

Prompts: @crazyconglasses
Author: @queenofthyme

Dearest Potter,

My mother insists that I write you to formally thank you for speaking on behalf of us at the Wizengamot. Without your testimony, we most certainly would have faced time in Azkaban.

So: thank you.

If you were expecting any heartfelt words of gratitude, then you’ve mistaken me for those hero worshippers who submit their amateur poetry about you to The Daily Prophet. Even as a child, I could write better poetry than that. 

Hoping to never speak to you again,

Draco Malfoy


Malfoy,

Please pass my appreciation on to your mother. I sincerely hope she is well.

As for you, I don’t need or expect your gratitude. That’s not why I helped you. You wouldn’t understand this of course, but those of us who have a heart, help others simply just to help others.

I also happen to enjoy and appreciate the notes people leave in The Daily Prophet for me. I’ve never heard any poetry from you, so I wouldn’t be so quick to throw stones.

Wishing you horrible misfortune,

Harry Potter


Don’t give me that load of crock, Potter. Even heroes have ulterior motives.

I also highly doubt you enjoyed last week’s poem: “I see Harry Potter’s emerald eyes, they sparkle and shine, all magic defies.” What does that even mean?

Seeing through your media-trained lies,

Draco Malfoy


Malfoy. You only think I’m lying because you can’t comprehend anyone’s perspective but your own.

That poem was heartfelt and thoughtful. I have a copy of it on my fridge - that’s a muggle appliance.

Rejecting your rude assumptions about me,

Harry Potter

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Why I Quit German

WARNINGS: This story is really gross and/or horrifying but also hilarious imho.  Your health always comes first, so mind the tags:  Violence, Cannibalism Mention, Suicidal Ideation, Feces, Sleep Deprivation, Airplanes, I generally had a really bad time but now it’s hysterical.  Most of the story is under the cut because it’s eight miles long.


In August of 2009 I flew back to Honolulu to do my sophomore year of college with the intention of entering 400-level german. What happened instead is the closest I’ve ever come to personally dying or actually murdering someone.

The problem started the day before my flight, when I attended a birthday party for a very dear cousin in Denver, and due to be in 1 of 2 adults present, ended up driving a bunch of teenagers home and didn’t get home until 12:30 that night.  Oh well, my flight’s at 6AM anyway, I’ll just stay up. I can sleep on the plane, I thought, like a complete fucking fool.

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when i was seven the sea-witch cursed me.

she cursed my great-grandfather, actually, who had spat on the hands of the ocean and disrespected the beating heart of the earth - for what else are waves but a pulse - who was silly and violent and who tried to rip from the water what was hers by rights. we were wealthy, before that, a family of merchants. my mother says in her youth she recalls white horses, the gleam of candles, early mornings with bread baked fresh by a horde of servants.

he didn’t ask permission to cross her. that’s what my mother tells me while she spoons porridge with no flavor into the wood of my bowl. he had no faith in superstition, rode with boats that were more decoration than strength, the folly of a man who was cruel and vain and proud of his own gold teeth. the sky had been blue, so regardless of what the village witch said, he would sail that day. and when his boat sank; their lives turned blue like the sky that day.

my mother says she thinks the curse on the men of our family, even if they come in when they marry, is that they will forever be violent, too foolish to see the storm on the horizon. she whispers this to me on the eve of my seventh birthday, while father is his own storm, thundering around the house, looking for her. later, when i am cleaning the cut by her cheek, she tells me the curse is on the women to forever be unhappy, to wane until they are shadows, to walk into the deep like a sinking ship. 

we don’t burn candles often, they are too expensive. she tells me this in the silk of a dark room. the moon kisses her hair. 

in three days, my mother will walk into the ocean, and my father will be my own problem. the curse will pass onto me. 

my father does not believe in superstition, no curse to conquer him. when he is gone, and i am heartbroken, i go to the village witch. i ask her to teach me about magic, and other things, and about how the ocean can be coaxed, and how to save my father’s soul. 

and my hands rot too, keeping a house by myself with things i barely knew. i learn the art of a good scrubbing, keep my mind full of white horses while i endlessly clean, dream of candles in dark while i make the bread that he will not allow me to eat. he keeps me from the ocean, from visiting the place that took my mom, from following in her footsteps where the water makes women undone.

i am sixteen when i see her in the water of a bowl. she scares me so completely that i drop it, and my father comes in with his hands, and the curse, and i almost forget all about it. it isn’t until after that i realize she is beautiful, and young, which surprises me. 

i think about it every evening. her face becomes distorted to me. i can no longer remember the exact shape of it, only the impression of beauty. 

i turn seventeen and wait for the high moon. i pin safety to my vest in little witch herbs and runes. i put naked toes on the sand and slip closer, closer, to the avenue of my family’s doom. i find a little private beach, small and surrounded by rocks, hidden from my father in the event he ever thought to come looking. at high tide, it is barely the span of my body. at low, it feels empty.

the witch of the land has given me what i need to call in the witch of the sea, but i do not use it. it feels wrong, somehow, standing here in the wind and the quiet pulse of the world. i put down the incense and sage and i sit just close enough it feels wild, dangerous - but not close enough to get caught up in thrill. 

when nothing happens, i go home and i make bread that i will not eat.

for months i do this. i climb down to my beach. i learn to do it when the moon is half, and then when the moon is empty. i learn to do it so well that sometimes i go to sleep in my own bed and wake up by the water. i take to sleeping with warding runes to keep me from being pulled in the rip out to the waiting hands of a hungry sea-witch.

i don’t know when i start talking. more often i sing, because singing in my house is not allowed, and something about the way the rocks echo my voice feels comforting. the older i get, the more i can pretend i hear my mother’s voice, answering me, harmonizing gently. i sing songs about sadness and lullabies about curses. when i have exhausted every song i know, i write new ones about fathers who have never learned how to be kind, about the house i work in but do not love, about mothers who left, and about a sea witch.

i see her sometimes. in a puddle, in the drop of rain, in the strangest places. i never expect it, although i always hope. i am never able to see her for more than the length of a wave, breaking, and each time, it does something new to my heart.

at eighteen i am too much of my father’s burden. he tries to unload me onto other men. the land witch helps me with this. i rub hemlock, burn wolfsbane. we arrange so these men have other women to marry. the news of my curse is bad enough to scare most away. my father is not happy.

after a particularly savage night, i wonder how bad it could be. i could marry some boy from the village who didn’t quite bother me. i suppose they’re not ugly. timothy had always been gentle to me. i think about a life, and how i am cursed to be unhappy. my father would finally be proud of me.

i walk to the beach and i tell the waves about him and how i could convince myself it was love if i just never wanted from him. how i could be okay, if not content, how i could be free, how i already had learned life down on knees.

but i go home and i write a rune of warding. and the years pass and i find reasons each suitor is wanting. and the sea witch i see, sometimes, peeking out at me, staying long each time in the water, looking, watching. i see her in mirrors when my father storms against me. it is bad because he mistakes the cause of my smiling. it is better when she is there the next morning.

and i go to the ocean. when i am too sad to speak, it seems like the ocean is whispering for me. i picture my mother’s voice and tell myself i am happy. i am seven again and we are sewing. i am seven again and the curse has not been given to me. i am seven and she came home after she walked to the sea.

i grow silly, brave, unthinking. i leave behind the herbs and i wade deep. i teach myself the art of swimming. i am bad at it, at first, but something about it feels good to me. like the ocean wants to buoy me. in the day i think of it, guilty. what if there was a rip tide, and the water took me? who would care for my father if i stepped off the beach into a long drop? wasn’t i clever enough to know that the ocean is uncaring?

it is not this that does it. i go out after a rain and i slip on the rocks and suddenly i am in water above my head but without the moon i cannot see the up of it. i kick and i thrash and the water surrounds me. the tide pulls on my body and in the cold i feel my body grow weary. water spills into me. it punches through my body, up my nose and into my lungs and some part of me knows this is what mother felt before she was gone.

i kick ground by accident, reorient, drag myself heaving and spitting into the air. i lie there for a long time, half in and half out of death, enjoying the sensation of breathing and of life.

when i look up, i think i see her, watching me, her brows knit with something like worry. but we make eye contact and my heart leaps and then she is gone and i am left alone with nothing but the dawn breaking.

my father is furious when there is no bread. he finds my hair wet, and the salt of the ocean still smelling on me. and that is it. that day he goes out and pays someone to agree to marry me.

this feels right to me, i think. i’m twenty-one, three times seven, a perfect number for a curse to fully come down on me. i will be wed in three weeks.

the land witch comes to visit me. she looks like she’s sorry for me. she gives me a spell and tells me to put it under my pillow; i’ll dream of love and it will soothe me. instead i dream of the seawitch, and how wonderful she is, and the sight of her, out on the water, worried.

even though it is risky, i go down to the beach. i do not bother with protective spells, i have already seen that the water can kill me. fear alone keeps me from wandering. i sit on the beach and in the sand i draw runes for understanding and i make the small magicks i’ve spent years learning and i close my eyes and i ask the ocean “why do you do this to me.”

i fall asleep. i dream that the sea witch talks to me. i dream she is my age, that she is the great-granddaughter of the first to curse my family. i dream she has spent years watching, learning, finding the truth of me. that she just needs to get the courage to come and speak, that she has fallen in love with my singing, that she knows no curse but the one in her heart that brings her back to a human, to a creature of air and not water, to a mistake in the making.

in the dawn i know it is a dream and no more. i make bread. i pour water out before it can make mirrors. i do not look. i do not like the ache that has filled me, as if i’ve been looking for an answer and the answer only leads to longing.

the man i meet - my husband-to-be - is delighted by the house i keep. he believes a woman should keep in her place, and her place should be clean. he hears from neighbors that sometimes i sneak out to the land witch’s house. laughter barks out of him. not going to allow that behavior, not me. he does not believe in curses. he will pack me up and move me from the ocean to somewhere in the mountains, where i know nobody. and i will, he promises, learn to keep my place, and that place clean.

i tell myself i could love him. he is not ugly. he says i’m pretty enough after whiskey. my father mentions i used to sing. i refuse to perform for these men so instead i make them cookies. they laugh and talk about me, even when i am in the room, as if they cannot even see. they shake hands and talk about how useless a woman is for much else than breeding. it’s very funny. the man meets my eyes and promises he’ll put a baby in me. i look down and pretend the thrill i feel is excitement, not fear brewing in me.

the land witch comes by a week before my wedding. she is smaller these days, aging. her apprentice and i get along wonderfully. the two women stand before me, holding something. 

a small box, so tiny and lovely. “break the curse,” the witch whispers, “learn to be happy.”

i smuggle the box, take it everywhere with me. it is days before i have a moment to slip away, to open it by the sea. i take a candle with me, even though my father will notice and be angry.

by the light of fire i read the spell they have left me inside, and then i am so full of gratitude i cannot stop crying.

it must be a full moon, so i must wait. in the meantime, i walk home, and i bake. 

i do not see the seawitch, even though i look for her. maybe i have wounded her, getting married. my father asks why i keep smiling. i tell him it is because i am finally with a man. he grunts and says to stop looking so silly. 

the man kisses me. i let him. we are married on a night with a full moon, and i poison him and my father in the bread i did not eat. i think of how these men were cursed so they could not see a storm coming. i watch them as they lie there, dying, and then i put all of the things i own into a basket for the land witch. i leave it there with a song i wrote for her, a spell i know will make her happy, will stop the aging of her joints, will give her the kind of relief she gave me. 

i go down to the water. i find myself running, even though i am in no hurry. i know the way so well it is like i wake up there, panting. i ask permission first. i lay out the contents of the box, i organize and practice and when the needle and pain comes, i am ready for it. i am used to pain at night. i breathe into it and walk naked into waters that swallowed my mother.

i chew bitter herbs. i swallow fire. i feel myself drown as i change from land witch to sea witch. 

when it is done, i open my eyes in the deep of a moonlit ocean. and i see her. 

this time she does not flicker. this time when i reach for her, she is there, and she is pushing my hair out of my eyes, and we are kissing with the ocean rejoicing around us, and i am laughing, and i hear her voice as clear as bell inside me.

and we live like this, a whole world between us where white horses are the size of pinky fingers and swim with their thin snouts, where i need no candles because i was raised lightless, where we have no servants but the water takes care of us. i show her the magic of land and she unfolds the magic of water. together we are unstoppable. when i come up to the air to sing little girls a promise that they can survive the madness, she sings with me, and we make a beautiful harmony.

An Analysis of Keith and Lance’s Feelings Towards Each Other.

After season three - and Keith’s Vlog especially - I’ve seen a lot of people complain about how Lance is oblivious to Keith’s true feelings about him (Rather those feeling are platonic or romantic) And yeah, I’m right there with you on wishing he’d recognize his misconceptions about Keith’s feelings towards him, but does that mean that Lance is unjust in the way that he feels? Does that mean Keith’s actions haven’t warranted or perpetuated this false narrative?

As a Lance Stan, of course I’m coming through for my boi. But I also just really like analyzing their interactions. So here we go:

First off, how does Lance actually think Keith views him? This picture shows it best.

Lance thinks that Keith sees himself as above Lance. The framing - which is coming from Lance’s p.o.v - is a great indicator of that. But even without this, Lance himself says:


I’m a big believer in the theory that Lance is projecting he own feelings of self doubt. He undoubtedly has an inferiority complex, but Lance feels inferior to everyone on the team, and it’s only with Keith that he ever shows any type of malice. In fact, I cant remember a time Lance has ever been genuinely angry at someone who isn’t Keith. (I could be wrong here.) So why does he treat Keith so differently than the rest of the team? Maybe because of his internalized gay feelings towards our resident spicy boi?hmmm.

We know for a fact that in episode one Iverson told Lance something like this: ‘You’re only fighter class because Keith, a better pilot, washed out. Now act accordingly’. This doesn’t feel like the first time either, but more of a reminder. So on the surface, it seems clear as to why Lance treats Keith the way he does at first. I mean, I get it. If someone was constantly used to reinforce the notion of how shitty I am, I’d probably have a similar reaction towards them too. (Conditioning is a thing ya’ll) However, from Pidge’s flashback in season one, we know Lance’s animosity isn’t that new.

“Hasta la later, Keith.”

But again, Lance just isn’t such a mean spirited person as to rejoice someone’s failures. Quite the opposite actually. He validates his team even while feeling inferior to them. It just doesn’t feel like Lance. And other than towards Keith, Lance has never been shown to act this way. So I have to believe something occurred to make Lance not like Keith especially. Not saying that’s an excuse, but it is an explanation. Truthfully, what probably happened was that Lance looked up to Keith or tried to befriend him and Keith acted in a way that Lance perceived as rejection. We don’t know though, because the key to this lives within the Garrison years, and we may or may not ever see those.


Sooo, lets move along to something that we do see.


We all know that Lance is antagonistic towards Keith, but Keith isn’t an innocent party in this.

Think back to the first episode when they’re all on the hovercraft. Lance asked “If this thing can move any faster,” which wasn’t a jab at Keith as much as it was a ’holy shit, we’re about to get caught,’ moment. Keith’s reply was something along the lines of: ‘Maybe if we removed some unessential weight.’ (Which, in hindsight, considering how Lance views himself as baggage, a seventh wheel, is some pretty jarring foreshadowing.)

Then he tells Lance he’s the worst pilot ever. (Ouch)

Just to be clear, I love Keith, and I don’t think he meant these comments as maliciously as they may have been taken. They were probably more like offhanded insults, but knowing what we know about Lance, is it so hard to see how these comments could be internalized?

Next we have a scene where Lance jokes about wanting all of the information in his brain to be stored on a spaceship. Keith’s response isn’t teasing, but… mean. It’s meant to hurt Lance by blatantly insinuating that he’s stupid. And in season two, when they’re both going to the pool, it’s Keith who tells Lance to stay far far away from him.

What am I getting at here? IDEK. Lance and Keith don’t hate each other in the slightest. Keith knows he’s bad at people, and he probably notices that Lance treats him differently than literally everyone else on the team. I’m sure that hurts Keith. While with Lance, he looks up to Keith, thinks Keith is better than him, and because of the words of people like Iverson and Keith himself, this idea has been nurtured. We already know that Lance takes the words of his friends to heart. In both season 2 and 3 when Lance expressed doubt, he brought up something Pidge said to him both times.

“I thought I was the team sharpshooter, but I guess nobody else thinks that.”

“Maybe I am just the goofball.”

Neither of them are innocent. It’s a mutual series or misunderstanding, and as sad as it is to see Keith frustrated over his inability to relate to his team, he’s not doing himself any favors when he insults Lance in earnest. Lance isn’t doing himself any favors either, and they’re both just reacting based off of these false narratives they hold about one another.

But that’s apart of what makes their relationship so complex and interesting to watch play out. Season three really paid off. Their development unfolded beautifully and I can’t wait to see how they proceed in the following seasons. I can only hope that any miscommunications they have about each other are addressed and cleared up.

Free The Animal

Word Count: 6k

Genre: Smut, Angst (will I ever stop being emo?)

Author’s Note: You ever forget that you’re a fanfic writer then you write a fic so bad you remember how much of a hack you are? Yeah welcome to my fic :’D

dom!jungkook- fuckboi!jungkook- fuckbuddy relationship- dirty talk- thigh riding mention because damn even I am not immune to his thighs- inspired by Sia’s song and part of the song drabble game. You can find links to the rest of them on my masterlist

Loving You To Death (Sequel)

There he was with his hands up some girl’s skirt, grinding on her like he was trying to fuck her through their clothes, the fucking pig. You huff and turn to your friend who gives you an exasperated look, “___, just go and grab him by the dick and tell him he can’t fucking do that.”

“He can do whatever the fuck he wants to do, even if that is a bleach blonde bitch with a tan that makes her look like an Oompa Loompa.” That was pretty low, you admit. It wasn’t the girl’s fault that Jungkook had chosen her for the night. But seriously, there was a limit to tanning, this was just harmful to the eyes.

“No, he can’t because you’re together.” Your friend, Hwasa, sounds pretty fed up with you.

“No, we’re not. We’re just fuck buddies and we agreed that we’re not exclusive right from the start.” Why wasn’t she understanding this? You’d explained it to her a thousand times.

“I don’t care what bullshit you told each other. All I care about is what I see, and that is two idiots constantly doing all they can to piss each other off because they can’t communicate like adults.”

“What are you even talking about? Jungkook is not trying to piss me off. He’s just being himself. Which is admittedly annoying in and of itself but you know…”

“Then why did he do nothing the past three days but play video games while you were off galavanting with Jin, only to start making out with some girl the minute you make an appearance?”

“He did?” You asked surprised, only to check yourself back and shrug it off. “I don’t know, he must have just not felt like it.”

“Oh my god, save me from these two idiots.” Hwasa cries then takes you by the shoulder and starts shaking you, “He’s fucking jealous because you took Jin to meet your family and not him so he’s trying to piss you off. Why? Because he likes you. And you’re pissed off. Why? Because you like him. Now can you get that through your thick skull or do I have to beat it into you?”

Keep reading

Imagine demon!Dean beating a guy up to death because he touched you and he got jealous.

“She’s pretty.” you said softly, trying to hold back the hint of bitterness and pain in your voice. Or jealousy for that matter. You couldn’t blame her, who knew with how many women Dean had been with ever since he became a demon.

“And probably his type. But it shouldn’t bother you now, should it chipmunk?” Crowley raised an eyebrow as the both of you didn’t take your eyes off of the demon playing darts as the blonde waitress gave him another drink with a rather flirtysmile might you say.

“Not now, not ever.” Crowley finally turned to look at you “You are not his girlfriend, (Y/n). Never been, yet you are bothered so much by this. I wonder why.”

You scoffed, turning to glare at him “As if you don’t know. Dean is probably the most oblivious man in the world but you never were Crowley. Why would you use this stupid nickname on me if you didn’t?”

“Guilty.” he flashed you a smile, downing his drink “But he’s no longer the man that you remember, love.”

“Right, so that’s why you wanted me here?” you scoffed “And don’t you dare deny it to me Crowley. You didn’t even blink in surprise when you saw me. You’re letting yourself get caught and sooner or later Sam will come walking in as well.”

“I must admit- the only thing that did surprise me was the fact that moose didn’t come in right after you.” he shrugged “But probably- it’s time to finally put him on track-” he looked at Dean “And make him realize how little he is leaving for just how much.”

“Hell? Oh wow, yes Crowley that really is everyone’s dream kingdom.”

“It is one, nonetheless.” he winked at you and before you could say a thing he had vanished right in front of your eyes. You scoffed at him but didn’t have the chance to question him when you turned your head and your eyes locked with his green ones. And just like always they made your heart skip a beat. Because maybe you were always friends but your love for him was undying.

You held your breath as he set his glass down and raised an eyebrow at you. He said nothing to the rest of them men he was playing with and casually strode towards you “(Y/n)” his voice was as rough but a lot more cold “Fancy seeing you here.” and the smirk on his face made it all worse.

“Is it?” you asked in a low voice and his smile dropped.

“What do you want here?” he asked serious.

“Oh so Crowley didn’t tell you?” you scoffed a laugh “He knew I was on your tracks with Sam, he should be here very soon. I managed to get a lead and thought if I could convince you to come back without him having to hurt himself but… I don’t think there is a point in trying.”

“I told you to stay away.” he shrugged casually, stuffing his hands in his pockets “Not my fault you don’t listen.

“You told Sam to let you go, not me. And I thought there was a chance here but- I was wrong obviously. I’m curious how you didn’t see this coming, or even more that Crowley didn’t speak to you about his plans. Whatever those may be. What happened? Don’t you guys tell everything? Oh no, don’t Dean, secrets are bad, they ruin relationships. We know it better than anyone.” you went from sarcastic to completely serious.

He scoffed, putting on a smirk on his face and rolling his eyes “Don’t care what his game is, I am not his toy. I have my own plans and I’m glad that… he made it easier for me.” he looked

“What do you mean?” you frowned when you noticed the predatory smile on his face “Made it easier by letting me find you?”

“I’ll let you know soon, now follow me and let’s out of here. You’re drawing too much fucking attention with those shorts.” he took hold of your arm, dragging you up as he glared at a few men behind you that had been sneaking looks at you.

“Like hell.” you hissed, snatching your arm from his “Why does it even matter to you? Especially now, I am nothing to you. So what if they look? I am free, Dean, hell they can even touch as much as they want to.” you said angrily.

His eyes darkened as he looked “Let’s go. Now.” he said in a low almost growl but you weren’t having any of it.

“Why?” you scoffed a laugh “So that you can kill me now? Or so that she doesn’t see us talking?” you motioned with your head to the blonde that already had her eyes on you. You tried so hard not to show how much this was hurting you.

“She has nothing to do with this. Come on.” he tugged, holding your hand again.

“Right, of course she doesn’t.” you scoffed “With how many have you been exactly all these months?”

“You’d want to know, wouldn’t you?” a satisfied smirk was on his face.

You didn’t have the chance to speak though because another voice spoke up “Is everything alright?” it was a guy you had seen checking you out ever since you came in.

“Yes, everything’s fine actually. My friend here was just leaving.” you gave Dean a look “How about you buy me a drink and we can talk?” you gave him a smile that made his grin widen.

“Yes, of course sweet cheeks.” he wrapped an arm around your waist.

“You’re gonna lose that hand buddy.” Dean growled, and you both stopped before you could leave.

“Excuse me?” he raised an eyebrow “Did you just threaten me?”

“No, I was giving you a friendly warning.” Dean shrugged with a casual smile.

“Yeah, right.” he scoffed, arm tightening on your waist just to mock the demon and for a second you got scared when Dean’s smile completely fell.

“But you obviously don’t listen very well.” he scoffed and before you could realize it he had grabbed the man by the collarof his shirt and pinned him against a pillar.

“And now- you get to see what I mean when I say that you shouldn’t have done that.” and even if you expected it you jumped when he threw a powerful punch at the man. And the another, and another and another without letting him do a single move. You were almost scared for his life when you saw the mark on Dean’s arm burn that angry red as he kept hitting the guy, blood covering his fist and groans and moans of pain filling the bar along with hushed whispers from other customers.

“Fucking asshole, think you could ever have a piece of that?” he scoffed a laugh, punching more “In your dreams!” another punch “She’s too pure and perfect for a bloody jackass like you. You would never stand a fucking chance.” he growled, punching him more.

You could barely make out any of the things he said after that as the sounds were too much to handle. People shouting, some cheering and encouraging him to keep going. And then you heard her.

“Dean, stop!” she screamed but he didn’t listen to her, as he kept punching with groans himself “Stop! You’re gonna kill him!” she screamed but it didn’t seem to have a single effect on him at the moment.

“Would serve him fucking right.” Dean growled, grabbing his bloody face and making the guy look at you “Do you see that? Do you see her?” he said through gritted teeth “She’s great isn’t she? And you’d really want a piece of her tonight but that would be it. You had some gruesome thoughts for her after that though, didn’t you?” he turned his head to look at Dean “Didn’t you?” he roared and he gave him a weak nod.

“Just like I thought.” Dean smirked “For the first, I’d really just break your hand and maybe face. But for this-” he looked at him darkly and your breath got caught in your throat. If he killed him right there in front of so many people he’d draw all the wrong attention.

“Dean!” you screamed “No, no don’t!” you exclaimed and as surprising as it was for everyone, it caught his attention and he glanced at you over your shoulder. You looked at him with wide eyes, shaking your head in fear.

“Seems like your lucky day, bastard.” he growled “You’re very damn lucky that she can have this effect on me because trust me your death… it would have not been easy. And she would never give you a single glance because you know why?” he smirked in an almost sinister way “Oh you know why.” he laughed, pushing him to the side and he fell on the floor. He looked down at him for a second, smirking before with a roll of his eyes he turned around and looked at the rest of the customers.

He didn’t say a think, he only scoffed at them and walked towards you.

“D” you found yourself whispering as you stared at him with wide eyes “You would have-”

“I should have.” he growled “Hope you fucking understand I am not playing games here, (Y/n).” he grabbed your jaw with one hand and your heart leapt to your throat when he brought his face closer to yours, your lips only an inch away. You knew what he wanted to do but he stopped himself, looking from your lips up to your eyes. He smiled slightly, running his thumb over your lower lip.

“You are mine, and I’ll make sure everybody knows it from now on.” he said in a low rough voice and you frowned. You knew in what way he meant it, you were no fool with what he had almost done but it still confused you. You were always friends and on top of that even if he didn’t care at the moment as a demon… what really held him back from forcing a kiss out of you? IT felt as if for a moment you saw your own Dean flash through his eyes.

“Only. Mine.” he said in a husky voice in your ear and you felt shivers run down your spine when his teeth grazed over it “I’ll wait in the car.” he added and let go of you, almost leaving you to try to recover from the shock.

But you only had another one coming once he’d left and the waitress spoke to you “You are (Y/n)?”

“Why-” your voice was hoarse as you looked at her “You know me?” and the look on her face only said yes, making you realize there was only person that could have spoken about you to her.

Dean. But the real question was why?

anonymous asked:

If Keith's Galra side is what makes him have this anger issues... How nice of a guy would he be if he was 100% human?

Actually–I don’t think Keith’s struggles with his emotions make him any less “nice.” If anything, I think he’s actually kinder because he’s hurting so much and still makes a conscious effort to try and control his temper and clearly regrets lashing out at others. Look at when he’s upset about Shiro’s disappearance–when he feels like Shiro left him and he know’s it’s not Shiro’s fault but he’s still so overwhelmed and says things he doesn’t mean. The reaction is immediate. As soon as he speaks, he looks devastated 

During his paladin vlog, he apologizes multiple times for letting his anger get the better of him. “I am…sorry. I am so sorry I, I guess—I have a bit of a temper, so…“ During The Hunted, he also expresses remorse for giving in to his emotions:

I think it’s also worth examining why Keith’s temper usually flares up. The common denominator is usually either 1) innocent people are in trouble (most likely under the rule of a corrupt leader)

2) Shiro in particular is in trouble, 

or 3) he’s grieving Shiro and his teammates don’t allow him that time to mourn or continue searching

Now, at the end of the vlog, Keith gets up and storms off. The only other time I could really think of where he actually gets up and leaves in a fit of anger on the spot is in Changing the Guard. All day he’s been tense and frustrated because no one else is willing to really acknowledge that Shiro is in serious trouble. “We don’t have Shiro either. Everyone seems to have forgotten that.” He feels like none of them cares about Shiro like he does, like they all just gave up on him and Keith is his only hope. And he can’t walk away from Shiro, not when he means so much. Anyway, what I’m getting here is–if in the vlog he storms off because he can’t hold back his tears anymore, does that mean he cried after this scene too? 

Even the way he slams his hands on the table before taking off is a thing in both these scenes

So anyway, what I’m trying to say here is–Keith’s anger isn’t from malicious intent. Not really. It comes from pain, compassion, love–it’s what happens when he cares too much and someone tears his world out from under him. He’s not a bad person, and I certainly don’t think Keith is even an angry person. Being galra doesn’t make him “meaner” or more aggressive, it makes all his emotions more volatile and passionate. Which would also explain his singularly devoted loyalty and adoration for Shiro, his sense of chivalry, his intense fear of abandonment, and so on. His feelings are all his, they’re just focused to such an intensity that he has difficulty managing them. He gets overwhelmed, and he lashes out. He’s trying his best to cope and I wish the universe was kinder to him 

BTS snapping at their s/o accidentally

Jin

As you entered the door after a long day of work, you smiled as you saw the boys scattered about. It was finally a day where you could stay at the dorms with them, after their insanely hectic schedule. You could smell food coming from the kitchen, and you realized how hungry you actually were. 

“Hey y/n” rap mon said from the sofa, you waved, dropping your bag and walking over to the kitchen. You ruffled Jungkook’s hair on the way, and he huffed, attempting to fix it.. You crept into the kitchen, seeing Jin working at the stove. You smiled to yourself, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Hobi the food isn’t done” he said in frustration. you stifled a giggle, looking up at him.

“I’m gonna have to talk to Hobi about being touchy with my man now aren’t I?” you said. He smiled, quickly trying to face you, but his hand hit the scolding hot pan in the process.

“FUCK!” he yelled, jumping back, causing you to let go.

“shit baby let me help..” you said, reaching for his hand but he snatched it back, burning it once more.

“y/n.. get the fuck out of my face… you’ve helped enough” he growled. You felt yourself tense up. Jin never cursed at you. You looked over, and saw the six boys watching you with their mouths hanging open. Refusing to let yourself cry in front of them, you swiftly walked to the living room, grabbing your bag, and heading home. 

A few hours later, after feeling like absolute shit, you heard a knock at the door. Puffy eyed, you opened it and saw Jin standing there with a Tupperware container in his non bandaged hand, and flowers in the other. You leaned against the door frame, staring him down. 

“What?” you said, in an almost inaudible voice. He melted at the sight of you, almost not being able to let words out.

“I’m so sorry.. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.. and I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.. I swear I won’t do it again..” he whispered.You chewed on your bottom lip, and saw tears weld in his eyes. You broke, wrapping your arms around his neck, and kissing his cheek.

“it’s okay.. come inside..” you whispered. He softly kissed you, accepting your invitation inside.

Originally posted by lavender-kills

Suga

You smiled, happy at yourself with what you had done. Yoongi was at practice, and you managed to clean his studio. It was a disaster with the upcoming comeback. You sorted all of his papers, filing them all onto his desk in folders. You made sure everyone’s lines was sorted, songs were sorted by track number and color coded. Took his trash out, dusted, swept, the whole nine yards. Organized cd’s, flash drives, everything. anything to make yoongi’s life easier. You knew the environment was becoming a lot for him. You just wanted to make him happy. You ordered take out, and waited for him to stumble into the door, because he was coming to work in the studio after dance. It was simply meant to be a time you two spent together. As you heard the door creak open, you watched as an already exhausted yoongi walked in. You watched as his face contoured into an expression you didn’t expect. He looked angry. Infuriated. 

“what did you do..” he said.

“I cleaned up for you…. I know you were complaining that you needed to clean up.. so I did it for you..” you said, in almost a whisper. 

“What.. did… you… do..” he said. You stood silent.

“I had everything placed specifically a certain way! What the hell would possess you to do this!!!” he yelled. You stood dumbfounded. 

“Yoongi i-im sorry I only wanted to help….” you said.

“just.. get out of here please. I have to sort this mess you made.” he spat. You rose silently, walking out of the building. You stood outside, feeling confused, and guilty. While you did that, yoongi realized what you had done, and felt guilty immediately. You had made it easier for him, leaving little post it notes on the computer, indicating what meant what, and what color was assigned to whom. He also saw the bag of take out, and sighed. He ran outside, hoping to catch you before you got too far. 

“y/n..” he said breathlessly. You turned around, seeing him crouched over trying to catch his breath.

“i’m sorry… come here..” he whispered, taking you in his arms.

“I’m sorry.. I’m just stressed.. I shouldn’t have come at you.. you were trying to help me.. I love you.. thank you.. lets go eat..” he whispered, softly kissing you. You followed, slightly confused, slightly happy. 

Originally posted by jeonbase

J Hope

You were frustrated. Hobi hadn’t been home in hours. This was a reoccurring thing. The comeback was slowly approaching, so he spent countless hours in the dance room. He was constantly out, leaving early, returning late. You genuinely missed him. He wasn’t only your boyfriend, but your best friend. You sat on the sofa, fighting sleep to see him at least once. Hour ticked by. 12 Am. 1 AM. 2 AM. 3 AM. He walked into the door at nearly 4 in the morning. You sat up, and he sighed, taking his shoes off. 

“Hi baby..” you said, making your way over to him. He took his jacket off, not uttering a word. It was the first time you’d seen him in a while. You just wanted to hug him. You took the jacket from him, placing it on the sofa, and wrapped your arms around him. He pushed you off, with glaring at you.

“Geez you’re so clingy. I just got here and I’m tired” he said. You were dumbfounded, but mostly hurt. 

:Well. Sorry for being clingy. I just missed my boyfriend, and wanted to fucking see him so I stood up till almost 4 in the morning to see him. Sorry that I fucking missed you.” you said, tears burning your eyes. You made your way to your room, laying in bed. He went to the shower, and you heard him cursing under his breath. Tears slowly trickled down your cheek as he crawled into bed, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him. You sniffled, crossing your arms.

“I’m sorry.. I’m just tired with the come back.. I didn’t mean it.. you know i love when you’re all over me…” he whispered in your ear. You remained silent. He softly kissed your shoulder and you melted against him. 

“I missed you too..” he whispered in your ear. 

Originally posted by yourpinkpill

Namjoon

Your boyfriend was always pranking you. Always. You decided to mess with him. You stored all of his tracks onto a USB, Triple checking to make sure it was all okay. You slipped it into your pocket, and deleted it from his computer. He walked in, sweetly kissing you and you toyed with your hands

“Joon.. I don’t know what I clicked.. but I accidentally deleted something off your laptop..” you whispered. He paled immediately. 

“not the tracks.. please tell me it wasn’t the tracks..” he whispered. You remained silent. He moved you to the side, seeing that they were gone.

“y/N WHAT THE FUCK!” he yelled. You jumped, not expecting that.

“I worked for weeks on this shit! Why the fuck did you touch my shit! How could you do something so idiotic!” he yelled. His voice boomed in the enclosed room. You felt small suddenly, tossing him the flash drive.

“it’s on here.. It was a prank…” you whispered, walking out of the room nearly in tears. He sighed, following you out. You locked yourself in the bathroom trying to calm down. He could hear your hiccup sobs from the other side of the door.

“baby i’m sorry.. please come out..” he said. You made your way out, arms crossed, sniffling. 

“You yelled at me..” you whispered, near tears again. He took you in his arms, trying to calm you down.

“i”m sorry baby..” he says.

Originally posted by ksjknj

Jimin

You were beyond excited. It was weeks of countless stress, studying and worry. You got your grades from your final exams. You passed! You literally ran to where your boyfriend was, in the dance hall working on dances for the comeback. You couldn’t contain your excitement.

“Jimin guess what!” you squealed.

“Not now” he mumbled.

“really quick baby I have great news!” You squealed. He glared at you, but you were still giddy and excited. 

“I said not now! I’m busy!” he yelled. You took a step back, trying to figure out who he was talking to. You shoved the paper in his chest, becoming angry like he was and walking out. When he would get home he would feel bad, seeing you on the sofa with your arms crossed, clearly upset. He crawled next to you, laying his head on your lap and not letting you push him off. 

“i’m sorry… I was rude.. Congratulations jagii.. you passed..” he said. You stared forward, ignoring him. He sat up, pulling you onto his lap, and placing his plump lips on yours, knowing you wouldn’t be able to resist. You kissed back happily, and he smiled.

“Let’s go celebrate” he said, picking you up and taking you to the bedroom and you started dying. 

Originally posted by mvssmedia

V/Taehyung

As you dropped off the last bag, you felt satisfied. You and your boyfriend decided to donate to the less fortunate. You both donated a bunch of clothes, as well as some money to help those in need. You went home, and saw your home in a war zone.

“Where is it!!!!!” you heard your boyfriend yell. You tiptoed over shoes, and sweaters, careful not to step on anything.

“baby?” you asked, looking into your bedroom.

“I can’t find it!” he yelled

“my sweater! my favorite sweater!” he yelled. You sat there, completely and utterly confused. Then you realized that it must have been at the top of the donations pile. Tae had the habit of throwing things in random piles, so you assumed it was for donations.

“… it wasn’t the black one with the grey writing on the front was it..” you asked.

“yes! have you seen it?” he asked.

“baby.. don’t get mad.. I assumed it was donations… It was in the pile-” you started

“What the fuck y/n!” he yelled.

“it’s not my fault you throw your shit around!” you yelled back. You stormed off into the living room, cleaning up. After he calmed down, he pulled you close to him on the sofa.

:im sorry.. it was my fault.. it’s going to someone in need.. you still love me right?” he teased. You huffed, looking at him.

“Sadly.” you responded. He showered you with kisses, and you smiled, feeling 1000000x better.

Originally posted by bwipsul

Jungkook

You sat in the kitchen, working on an assignment when you heard the front door shut. Your favorite time of day. Your boyfriend, Jungkook was finally home. It was really busy for the both of you lately. School had started again, so you were constantly studying, and his comeback was slowly creeping up, so he was always at practice, and rarely home. You missed him, and rarely got to see him. You were only lucky this time because you were up late to finish something. You walked into the living room, and saw him elevating his leg.

“What happened?” you asked, softly kissing him. 

“I fell at practice.” he groaned. you tried fixing the pillow, but he moved away. You ignored it, walking to the kitchen and getting him an ice pack.

“my poor baby.. do you want something for the pain?” you asked. 

“I’m fine. You’re acting like my mom” he said. You frowned, trying to put the ice pack on his leg. He moved away once again.

“I said i”m fine!” he yelled. You looked at him, irritation taking over.

“You bust your ass, I’m not the one who hurt you. Stop acting like a dick” you said, throwing the ice pack at his chest. You stormed out, and he sighed. Your attitude was the craziest thing he had experienced, but it was his favorite thing about you. You didn’t take shit from anyone. He felt guilty immediately, letting his pride get the best of him when you were only trying to help. You shut your laptop, going to bed. He hopped over, laying next to you and pulling you onto his chest.

“You’re sexy when you’re mad” he teased.

“Do you want another bad leg?” you asked. He grinned, softly kissing you.

“I’m sorry.. you were trying to help.. thank you babyyyyy” he said gooffily, trying to kiss you up.

“Jungkook you need to watch yourself.” you said. He continued kissing on you, eventually making you give in. 

“I love you..” he whispered.


Remember our messages are open for requests! Send us anything you’d like!! Hope you enjoyed

-Lia  ♡ 

i just made this announcement over on twitter, but like, let’s be real, i’ve been on this horrible blue hell site since i was 16 - and i’m turning 24 on sunday, so that’s essentially a third of my life, yikes - and you guys are wonderful and i love you and you deserve to hear it here first. so.

as most of you know, i finished my first manuscript earlier this year, and i’ve been reservedly liveblogging the absurdly nerve-wracking process of querying agents and throwing my novel out to the wolves. 

and i’m so happy to finally be able to tell you that i’ve accepted an offer of literary representation from brooks sherman of janklow & nesbit associates.

i first became aware of brooks a couple of years ago when my best friend lena, who was loyally and devotedly beta-reading one of my early drafts, suggested i check out becky albertalli’s “simon vs. the homo sapiens agenda.” she thought simon was an exemplary gay ya romance, exactly the kind of thing i was hoping to do. and she was right: simon instantly became one of my favourite books, and becky became one of my favourite authors. i pledged to myself that when i finally worked up the nerve to start talking to agents, i would talk to the guy who helped make simon happen.

but it took a long time. like, a long time. i started writing “teenage victory song” - the name of my novel, a contemporary gay YA love story, hopefully coming soon to a bookstore near you! - back in 2013. specifically, during an 11:30 PM gchat with grace on wednesday, december 11, 2013, which i have archived for historical preservation. so grace is getting the dedication when this thing goes out, naturally. but, yeah, i started writing it in 2013, and only just finished it this spring, and only with the help of some truly incredible people and loyal friends and family - way too many to name here, but you know who you are, and thank you. i love you. if i hadn’t had your love and your support to battle the little grey cloud of depression and trauma and persistent economic instability that hangs over me 24/7, i’d never have gotten this far. writing this book, and keeping myself mentally healthy and happy enough to finish it, is the hardest thing i’ve ever had to do. 

i also need to thank benjamin alire saenz, andre alexis, dennis bock, anne michaels, and mallory ortberg for reading various permutations of this manuscript and believing in it and giving me their writerly advice on it. i love all y’all. and, of course, major, major thanks to the lambda literary association, who do so much incredible work for so many lgbt authors, and to whom i will be forever in debt.

i just don’t have words for the fact that brooks read my manuscript and said yes, that he said wow, that he believes in me and in what i’m trying to do with my writing. he represents so many authors whose work i’ve been continually blown away by, and it is patently ridiculous and surreal that i get to stand next to them now? i’ve already mentioned becky albertalli, whose work has done so much to humanize young lgbt people and to normalize gay love for a mainstream audience. or adam silvera, who just put queer boys of colour on the new york times bestsellers list with “they both die at the end,” which i am presently reading and crying over and having my internal organs ripped out by. and last, but definitely not fucking least, angie thomas, who wrote “the hate u give,” very possibly the most important young adult novel of the last twenty years, a heartbreaking and compassionate and warmly funny complete and total masterwork that i inhaled in less than two days. like, i really don’t. have words. these are people who have been heroes of mine for so long. i just started actually crying so i’m going to have to wrap this up lmao.

i grew up in an intensely homophobic and conservative christian household, and when i was probably eleven or twelve i somehow came into possession of a copy of “a great and terrible beauty” by libba bray. i don’t remember anything about it except that it had a subplot involving two girls who kissed each other on the mouth, and when they kissed each other on the mouth, i was so viscerally horrified that i started bawling, and i stood up, walked upstairs to the garbage disposal, and tore the book apart with my bare hands. watched the pages filter down into the garbage. and i don’t, like. i don’t like to damage books. i don’t even fold corners because i don’t like to crease the pages. i still remember it all these years later because my first reaction upon recognizing myself in that kiss was to literally destroy it. and i had to keep that part of myself buried for so many years. reading lgbt ya and fanfiction was some of the only escape i had. i wasn’t able to come out until i was eighteen years old, and when i did, it ultimately meant becoming estranged from my mother forever.

i have so much love and tenderness and compassion for all those previous, wounded versions of me, who went through so much, who hated themselves so much, who spent so much of their teens and early twenties being depressed and closeted and suicidal and dreaming of the day when they might get to be an author. you fucking did it, buddy. i love you so much and i am so proud of everything you did to survive and keep creating.

in conclusion,

anonymous asked:

Hi! You seem to have become a sort of dinner consultant/therapist/cheerleader, which is delightful. I hope you don't mind if I ask a downer question--how do I will myself to make good food when I'm depressed, and feel deep down that I may not deserve proper nourishment? Than you, you're well.

I suffer from Depression, Bipolar, C-PTSD, ADHD and Memory Issues and yeah, I really get that feeling of not having the energy/focus/self-worth to make dinner.  I’m not a therapist or nutritionist, so all I can offer is things that have worked for me, and hope that some of them work for you:

It’s Better To Eat SOMETHING Than Nothing

No really.  There are a LOT of days when I’m too tired, too distractable or just too Blugh to cook.  And for days like that, I have microwave meals, or “put in pot and add water” things, like Mac N Cheese.  They’re not Organic, or Nutritionally Balanced but everything I’ve been told by every doctor and therapist I’ve had: EATING SOMETHING, EVEN MICROWAVE MAC OR CHIPS IS SO, SO MUCH BETTER FOR YOU THAN EATING NOTHING.

Food is not an all-or-nothing deal.  Humans have an amazing ability to take in nutrition from darn near anything that doesn’t kill us, which is part of the reason we’re all over the dang planet.  Any food is good food, esp when you haven’t eaten all day because your brain has been playing a shitty surrealist version of reality for you all day.

So when you CAN cook, cook, but if you can’t, don’t worry too much.  Just get something down your throat, and live to see the next, better, day.

Related: If you can’t do a full meal, but you CAN add *extras* to things to help you.  Tortilla Chips Depression meal? Add Salsa!  BAM! VEGETABLE SERVING!!  Can of beans? CHEESE.  OH LOOK, MORE PROTEIN.  whatever you can add is like, extra credit.  Good job you!

Actually Learning To Cook

So actually learning about food safety, spice theory, what happens chemically to food when you cook it and how to make different styles of cuisine confers a whole bunch of cool benefits for my sometimes-garbage brain:

  • I really like reading and learning new stuff, so making it a “learning a new thing” makes it less like a chore and more of an Interesting Distraction.
  • This doesn’t have to be any form of academically rigorous.  Like, watching cooking shows, looking up stuff online, or hell, googling stuff in the middle of the supermarket if something is on sale and you’re curious but don’t actually know what to do with it.   Good Eats and America’s Test Kitchen are both very educational and soothing to watch.
  • Also cooking shows are GREAT for both my anxiety and stimulating my appetite
  • Reduces the number of Thinking Spoons to actually make dinner.  If I have a general working knowledge of what things taste good and how to make them, it’s a lot less effort than trying to look up and follow a recipe.
  •   GO AHEAD AND USE SHORTCUTS.  No, really.  Those frozen cutlets of fish you stick in a toaster oven? GREAT.  pre-mixed seasoning? AWESOME. Frozen veggies are already cut up and are just as good as fresh.  Like if you don’t have the energy to do something, pre-made stuff is FANTASTIC for getting something healthy into your system for honestly not that much money or less in some cases.

Being Responsible For More Than Myself

The thing that has helped me take care of myself was getting engaged and a dog.  My mental illness has a neat shortcut where when I can’t do things for myself, I can magically do them for other people.  When I cook, I’m cooking for both myself and for my fiance.  Being responsible for making sure he eats a few nights a week is the biggest driving force in getting me to stay on enough of a schedule that I’ll be capable of cooking.  (He cooks other nights and whoever cooks, the other does the dishes.)

I realize that getting hitched is not in the cards for everyone and that’s hardly a reflection of one’s worth, but there are ways to add responsibility to your life if that helps with executive function.  Prior to meeting my fiance, My family had an elderly German shepherd with a sensitive stomach and I cooked him chicken and rice every night for three years on the vet’s recommendation.  Or maybe you cook for a neighbor once a week.  Or tie feeding your cat to you having dinner as well, becuase you can’t take care of fluffy if you’ve got low blood sugar, right?

Eating Is Self-Care, Like Taking Meds or Wearing Comfy Jammies

Another thing that helped me: Realizing that eating made me feel better.  Literally, if I keep my blood sugar stable (Prone to hypoglycemia), my mood’s better, I get fewer headaches, and so on.  What’s Healthy is different for everyone and I recommend talking to a nutritionist at least once to get an idea on what might be unique to you.  Most gyms, community centers or clinics will have someone on staff to help, but you should start by asking your GP for a recommendation.

So when I start too feel poorly, my checklist is “When was the last time I ate? Am I craving something?”  (Along with “Am I dehydrated?”  staying hydrated also helps with appetite issues) and I fin that I usually am.  Sometimes it’s salt, sometimes it’s a whole head of broccoli.  Food is our body’s main means of getting what it needs to survive and giving your body what it needs (even if it’s fat and sugar and carbs, which yes, you need sometimes) will make you feel better, I promise.

Eating Stuff You Actually Like 

Bananas are, allegedly, really good for me.  Potassium, vitamins, good fats etc.   They also taste like satan’s own diabetic mucus and I’m never gonna eat one if I can’t help it.  Just, No.  Don’t force yourself to eat things just becuase they’re healthy.  That’ll only make you hate eating.

Like I mentioned before, you, presumed human, can draw nutrition and calories from darn near anything.  So go boldly, and try new foods and spices and cooking methods and find things you actually enjoy eating.

  • Remember all those veggies you hated as a kid?  Try them again as an adult, because your taste buds literally change over time and things taste way less bitter than when you were a kid.  Try different cooking methods too- anything brassica is like 500% better tossed with olive oil, salt &pepper and roasted on a sheet pan. 
  • HOW you cook things makes a huge difference in both how they taste and how stressful cooking is.  Wanna leave something in a crock pot and forget about it until the timer goes off? AWESOME. Grilling becuase  you prefer something more engaging becuase you’re bored? ALSO GREAT.  Try out different cooking methids to find out what tastes good and is fun to do,
  • Are you one of those people that likes, 3 things, and can have them every night for eternity?  GO YOU, with your pre-planned menu!  Maybe call up a nutritionist to see if you need to be taking some extra vitamins, but really, this is fine too,

Ok this has gotten a mile long and kind of rambling but I hope it helps you!

13x01 - Episode Review Part 1

In which Dean just about held it together… and I did not. 

This review will be in several parts. I have separated it into several sections that I wish to talk about because hot damn. What an episode! This Part 1 focuses on Dean’s grief and Destiel and saying goodbye to Castiel. 

Firstly, an introduction

As I sit here, surrounded by three friends who I met on tumblr, BECAUSE of this show, I am amazed at how far I have come. I did not think that when I joined this fandom I would ever get to this moment, but my gosh what an amazing feeling this is. To all of you out there – reach out to people, you really won’t regret what you find. 

I adored this episode. I screamed, I even shed a single man tear whilst holding on to @amwritingmeta quite tightly… sorry Annelie if I hurt you at all. @tinkdw, @margarittet and @amwritingmeta you guys are wonderful and I am so glad that I have been able to flail and scream along to this awesome episode with you. Thank you for sharing this crazy obsession with me.

Part 1 - Love, Grief and Saying Goodbye

THEY USED METALLICA’S NOTHING ELSE MATTERS AS THE OPENING SONG! We were two seconds in and @margarittet had to pause because we all collectively SCREAMED that they chose to use this as the open song AS WELL! @tinkdw said that she wanted to try and guess what the opening song was this season but I don’t think ANY OF US considered that they would reuse “Nothing Else Matters” because its just so on the nose isn’t it? Nothing else matters? Nothing else matters than what exactly?

Well once again the “Then” sequence ends on Dean kneeling over Cas’s body.

The answer is Castiel. Nothing else matters than CASTIEL. This is repeated CONSTANTLY throughout the episode. You are not allowed to forget about him for a SINGLE SECOND and this opening song drums that home. Seriously if there are any Cas fans out there still bitter about Cas I dunno what show you are watching because it certainly ISN’T the show I watched yesterday.

It hurts to think about. What even was this episode? From the opening song “Nothing Else Matters” to the “Goodbye Cas” at the funeral pyre, this episode was chocablock full of moments that prove unequivocally that for Dean, Cas truly is his guiding light, his hope. Even if you don’t see their relationship as romantic you cannot possibly deny after 13x01 that Dean and Cas have an extraordinary connection and a deep and profound love that has now transferred to an even deeper excruciating grief in Dean.

Choosing to use this song as the season opener though? The season opener always reflects the tones of the season, the main themes. To have THIS song as the season opening? Wow. Just wow. This is a song that comes up first if you google “Metallica Love Song” by the way. In case you were wondering if it was indeed a love song. Because it is. James Hetfield confirmed it was written for a girlfriend. Interestingly though it has been debated over the years as the lyrics themselves are not conventionally romantic lyrics. Nevertheless, this is now fact: Supernatural used a Love Song called “Nothing Else Matters” to set the tone and theme of season 13, lingering over shots of Dean looking down at Castiel’s dead body. This isn’t even arguable. This is where we are.

(and what a wonderful place to be my friends)

Dean’s grief was beautifully portrayed by the superb acting skills of Jensen Ackles. In my season 13 wishlist I said this:

“It probably goes without saying but MAN PAIN OVER CAS – I mean, I reckon we are gonna get a good helping of this. Maybe not immediate tears but its gonna be pretty damn angsty – if the promo’s are anything to go by. I basically want it to be UNDENIABLE in canon that CAS is the reason that Dean is so broken up and that BOTH brothers are seriously struggling with his death. It has to be OBVIOUS how important Cas was to them and how his death has affected them

I think we can tick this one off. :)

Continues under the cut.

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Dear connorallen94,

I think everyone does to some degree or another.

Career success and artistic skill are only poorly correlated. What do I mean by this? I mean that you have to get a certain level of skill in order to get published/ put in a gallery/ get musical gigs, but after you get to a certain level of competency, greater or less skill doesn’t seem to have any relationship to how commercially successful you are. Other factors begin to take over in exposing your work to buyers, and moreover, the more rarified your skill becomes, the fewer the punters are who can appreciate it. You can turn a beautiful turn of the phrase while juggling 47 themes and delicately drawing an allegory for the pain of man’s condition? Great. Most people won’t notice. And while that additional skill will get you noticed among peers who are also writing beautiful novels with 47 themes and delicately drawn allegories, it is a bad predictor for commercial success. If you use that skill to delicately render specific lizards, for instance, you still run the risk of only appealing to lizard people. But mostly it’s just excess — the average person doesn’t care if Coldplay’s Chris Martin can play Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 in D on his guitar. (I don’t know if he can. But I hope so.)

This is because in the commercial art world, most consumers are not also artists. Other factors are nearly always more important to the non-artist consumer: a strong story, a topical subject matter, a celebrity name, a catchy tune, a wicked hook, a pretty cover, the creator’s funniness on Twitter, the creator’s ability to speak in public, the creator’s actual and literal hotness because wow, relatability of the themes, a movie tie-in, an omnipresent advertising campaign, availability of the work in places that rhyme with BallMart. 

It’s why you can be an international bestseller without being the best in your field. It’s why you can be an international bestseller without being remotely the best in your field.

Whenever I say this online, people like to shout “what kind of a self-drag!” I suppose because as an international bestseller, I am supposed to think I am 100% fantastic and have definitely earned my title at the top of the heap by some objective measure of wonderfulness. Also because people are weird and possibly don’t understand how self-awareness, confidence, and humility really ought to play well together if you want to be a happy professional artist. It’s crucial to understand just how big of a role you play in your own success. This is so that you can focus on only the things you can control (you can’t make your subject more topical, you can’t suddenly become a famous rock star with a memoir, you can’t guarantee you have a beautiful, eye-catching cover; you can only work on writing faster, writing more accessibly, writing well), so that you don’t take it too hard when all of your career dreams fail to come true overnight. But it’s also to keep you from being a self-aggrandizing asshole about success. You’ve sold millions of books? Great. Remember, Stiefvater, that your skill is only poorly correlated to that number. You wrote a competent-or-better book at a good time for that genre/ subject/ cover/ something, and it took off. Good job, that was nice. Get back to work.

I don’t generally mind this push-pull, actually. Imposter syndrome whispers that I might be a fraud, a just-okay writer wrapped in accolades I don’t deserve. But mostly I think that’s all right: let the voices whisper. The opposite of the imposter syndrome would be letting myself believe that I am entirely to credit for my success, and that’s just as false. The truth is a middle ground, and this truth is also why imposter syndrome doesn’t get in the way of my work. 

Because the truth is this: I’m a writer who works hard, puts down a quarter million words of fiction each year, shows up for work even when life throws health or family or world crises at me, and doesn’t make excuses. Those things aren’t subjective. Those things I can control.

So get to work.

urs,

Stiefvater

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Robert Small ~ aka Bad Dad/Knife Dad

(All info is culled directly from in-game references; gif was made by me - if you want to use it in something else, please ask &/or give me credit.  Thanks so much!  <3)

~ Background Canon ~

  • Seems to have little/no respect for people who sleep around and/or put sex before other, more important things
  • Was (possibly) in the Army
  • Has a Boston Terrier named Betsy (likes to pretend she’s a pit bull)
  • Likes to tell elaborate (and sometimes graphic) stories. (Are they true? No one but Robert knows.)
  • Knows how to fake people out (i.e. good poker face?)
  • Sends texts/messages like a teenager
  • Believes hitting a child would be despicable
  • Insists on watching movie credits to the VERY end
  • Has a daughter named Val who lives in Brooklyn; she works for some ‘news media online magazine thing’ and makes a lot of money doing it.
  • He’s unsure of Val’s age, but thinks it’s maybe 25 or 26
  • He refers to Brooklyn as ‘home’ (…so what does that make Maple Bay?)
  • Carries a fully-stocked first aid kit in his truck
  • Has an unconventional sense of humor
  • Has a tendency to say exactly what he means…and then pretend like he didn’t mean it
  • Not the most talkative of people, generally speaking
  • Thinks River has an ‘old soul’
  • His wife’s name was Marilyn; she died in an ‘accident’.
  • He has a ‘long, wicked scar across his pecs’ (supposedly from a bike accident with Val)
  • Has a tattoo on his left hand, shaped a little like a compass rose
  • The mention of cannibalism reminded him of the last time he went skiing. (Just another ‘story’?)
  • Claims his leather jacket has been in his family a long time, and that it’s ‘cursed’
  • Seems to have done a lot of thinking about killing someone.  “It’s not just their life, you know.  It’s their hopes and dreams draining away.  Every memory and experience they’ve ever had…gone.”
  • This guy may not look it, but he’s smart!  Knows who Hemingway is, has heard of capybaras, is a classic film buff, knows random Bible verses by heart…
  • Robert’s hands are calloused and covered in little white scars.
  • Got stabbed in Louisiana…or was it Kentucky…?
  • Isn’t a ‘sore loser’
  • Drives a VERY old red pickup truck.
  • House is filled with sleek, modern appliances; a big flat-screen TV; and shelves upon shelves of DVDs

~ Likes/Dislikes Canon ~

  • Has at least a mild interest in sports of some kind and a preferred team that he roots for
  • Likes Paranormal Ice Road Truckers, but isn’t a fan of TV in general
  • Likes war documentaries
  • Doesn’t like small talk
  • Doesn’t like being called Rob (…or Bobert) - ‘buddy’ seems to be okay?
  • Likes to go camping (but hasn’t been after what happened last time)
  • Digs old movies from the 30′s and 40s
  • Takes the creation of movies VERY seriously
  • Likes Tom Waits and Santana
  • Likes to whittle and is pretty good at it
  • Smokes like a chimney (if all the ashtrays in his house are any indication.)
  • Enjoys the Criterion Collection

~ Food/Drink Canon ~

  • Likes whiskey… A LOT - especially shots
  • When it comes to alcohol, rarely takes ‘no’ for an answer
  • Likes white zinfandel because it’s delicious, fruity, and refreshing
  • LOVES pineapple on his pizza
  • Enjoys bar-hopping
  • Thinks Jim and Kim’s is the best bar in town
  • Occasionally hangs out at The Coffee Spoon

~ Sex/Romance Canon ~

  • Talks dirty…very dirty
  • Enjoys leaving hickeys…lots of them
  • Rough enough in bed to leave a person feeling sore and ‘creaky’ afterwards
  • Enjoys biting
  • When his lover says ‘no’ or ‘stop’ he takes it seriously
  • Recognizes that he’s an emotional wreck/emotionally unavailable…and is honest about it

~ Memorable Quotes ~ 

  • “The key to being cool is acting like you don’t care about anything, but actually care very deeply about everything to the point where it’s debilitating.”
  • “Too many people think that they have to fill the dead air with noise.  Personally I think they’re afraid of the silence.  Or they’re afraid of what the other person is gonna think of the silence…learn to be comfortable with silence.”
  • “I respect your opinion.  And I will fight with my life for your right to say it.  But where’s your sense of adventure? Where’s your sense of taste?  Why won’t you love yourself?”
  • “The juciness of the pineapple paired with the tanginess of the sauce is a flavor combination that everyone should experience at least once, if not a thousand times more. Pineapple on pizza is one of the few things in life that I genuinely and thoroughly enjoy.  Please.  Please just do this for me.  No - do this for yourself.”
  • “That popcorn-ass drivel the mass media is shoving down your throat will only make you dumber and sadder.  You of all people should strive for a higher standard in the art you consume.”
  • “Are you kidding me? I would never hit a child.  That would be despicable.”
  • “This is my Thinking Bench.  I have to get a solid two to three hours of brooding per day.  Filling quotas…A lot of people underestimate the senses of a man who broods.”
  • “I’m so many levels of irony deep that I’ve forgotten what humor is.”
  • “I was so busy chasing after all of these things that I thought would make me happy that I didn’t think about anyone else.  All I cared about was myself.”
  • “Maybe I’m just built like this.  Or maybe I do it to myself.  Maybe it’s my own choice I’m as unhappy as I am.”
  • “I’m working on my relationship with existence.”
  • “Long live the king, baby.”
  • “I spent my whole life only taking, and taking, and taking.  And now here I am, an old, broken man sitting on top of a pile of everything I’ve ever taken.  Alone.”
  • “I spent so much time chasing after things I thought were gonna make me happy that I ruined my only real chance at happiness.”
  • “You know, every day for me is a battle against my own self-destructive habits.”

HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY TO THE WONDERFUL @australet789. I hope you will like this


“I can explain.”

“I’m sure you do.” Marinette bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

“Princess, please. This isn’t funny. Have some pity on a poor stray.”

Marinette burst out laughing, making Chat Noir pout. Or well, pout as much as a cat could.

“You are being mean.” he muttered.

“I’m sorry.” Marinette whipped away an imaginary tear. “But I can’t fathom what in the world did you do to become an actual cat. Is it a new power or where you cursed?”

“Cursed,” he replied back. “Woe is me.”

Marinette rolled her eyes fondly. “Alright, Chat, ow that we established that you can come out. I am sure you aren’t a nightmare cat.”

With a sigh, he walked from behind the dress dressing screen. And then an unexpected thing happened. Marinette squished her cheeks with her palms and squealed. Chat didn’t even get the chance to react properly before he was swapped up in her arms and spun around.

“You are the most adorable thing I had ever seen!” Marinette said, holding him tight to her chest.

Chat wondered if cats could blush. They might not, but he sure was blushing right now. Marinette began petting him and, to his embarrassment, he began to purr. But it wasn’t his fault Marinette was so good at petting and she smelled like baked goods and God, this was paradise on earth. He should have annoyed Plagg into turning him into a cat long time ago.

“So, pretty kitty, for how long are you cursed to be in this adorable form?”

Chat was surprised he could speak while still purring. “I don’t know. Maybe until a kind, beautiful princess kisses me and turns me back?”

Marinette stopped petting him abruptly. Then she grabbed him from under his arms (front legs?), raised him to be face to face with her and gave him an unimpressed look.

“Once a tomcat, always a tomcat, aren’t you?”

Chat gave her a toothy grin. “I am no tomcat nor a stray. I got a princess who loves me dearly.”

Marinette kept looking at him skeptically, before sighing and smiling fondly. “Guess you are right. Oh well, here goes nothing.”

Marinette kissed him on the top of his snout. A green light wrapped around him and Marinette waited for Chat Noir to appear. But, instead, the next thing she knew was that she was holding Adrien Agreste in her arms.

“Hi, Princess.” he said, cluelessly.

Marinette screamed.

The Color Of My World // A Stiles Stilinski AU

Prompt: Soulmate AU where for your entire life you’ve only ever seen black and white, until you receive the first touch from your soulmate and color blooms before your very eyes. But, what would you do if you found out your soulmate was the one person your current boyfriend hates the most in this world?

Relationships: Stiles Stilinski x Reader/Theo Raeken x Reader/Stiles Stilinski x OFC/Theo Raeken x OFC

Warnings: Intimate Dancing, Kissing, Swearing, and Future Smut (I gotta build it up first y’all but smut is coming)

Song: Flaslight by Jessie J (Cover by Leroy Sánchez)

Word Count: 3,157

A/N: Y’all this was a long time coming. This series is so incredibly important to me, it took me months on end to write. This is without a doubt my favorite story I have written so far and has become my baby. Special thanks to @sarcasticallystilinski for reading it over and supporting me! I really hope you guys love this as much as I do.

P.s. All of the songs will be in Stiles’ POV and, Oh My God, I highly recommend you listen to them after every part to know what’s going on in his mind throughout the story. 

Love, Soulmates and Colors are the three words I despise the most in this world. They ring in my ears like sharp nails scratching against a dry chalkboard and, yet, it seems to be all everyone ever talks about.

“When will I find my soulmate?”

“All I ever see is black and white, I hope one day I’ll meet her and see color.”

“Wait, what do you mean you’re only seeing blue?”

Everyone on this God forsaken planet can only see the dull shades of black and white. However, rumor has it, that that completely changes when you meet your soulmate - as if that bullshit actually exists. Apparently, the moment your skin touches theirs, your entire world becomes vibrant with color and life.

I don’t believe it for one second. Not because I’m bitter or anything, but because I’ve never actually met anyone who can see in color and, therefore, I don’t believe that possibility exists. What would a world full of color even look like? I’m so used to the reality of black and white that the idea of shades other than these two seem so foreign and impossible.

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PAPER MAGAZINE : Beautiful People ~ Cardi B is Still Real


Known for her candid social media presence and outspoken, magnetic demeanor, Bronx-born rapper Cardi B rose to stratospheric heights this year on the wave of her summer anthem “Bodak Yellow.” Despite her whirlwind success, Cardi has kept it real, speaking out about police brutality, honoring Colin Kaepernick at the VMAs and continuing to share her life and feelings unapologetically with her fans. From stripper to BET-nominated artist, this “regular, degular schmegular” girl from the Bronx reminds us that being beautiful also means staying true to yourself.

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