it still is heinous

Thoughts on “Heinous” and Trans Marco

So from this episode we know that Miss Heinous still isn’t done trying to exact revenge on Princess Marco, meaning she’ll be back later on, and from the leaked ADR shot of the characters in starcrushed, she probably won’t be in the season 2 finale (there was a name listed ending in “-us”, but the number of letters didn’t fit “Miss Heinous” but rather “Rhombulus”) which leaves season 3 for her arc to come to completion.

This fits pretty well with what we’ve been thinking wrt trans marco - it doesn’t seem to be happening this season, but it’s still totally plausible for season 3, especially if Heinous is still a threat.

Also, the fact that there was no confrontation over the contradicting pronouns being used for Marco in this episode is evidence for the writers wanting to wait till later to deal with Marco’s gender in the show. especially since Heinous being appalled at the idea of the st. o’s girls inviting over boys to party with shows that the “no boys allowed” rule at st o’s is still relevant, and that Heinous doesn’t know Marco is a boy (at least to all the other characters in the show)


@kaistrex, from @sterektbh

On one level, Stiles knew that Scott was just trying to be a good friend. He cared about Stiles’ social life and wanted to spend more time together.

On basically every other level however, Stiles knew that shoehorning him in as a last-minute addition to a couples-only dinner party was about the biggest bro violation Scott could ever commit.

It’s not like Stiles could really blame him. Individually, most of the people at this table were all right. But as couples? A nightmare. It was like there was some strange switch that flipped in their brains when married couples came together. Suddenly all that mattered was whose wedding was the most expensive and how rewarding it is to trade sleep for a tiny, ugly human that only knows how to cry, sleep, and shit.

And, of course, how to peer pressure the last remaining single person in the room into adopting their clearly superior lifestyle.

The thing that married people didn’t understand about singledom is that being alone wasn’t a state that Stiles needed to be saved from. In fact, it was a state he’d much rather have been in, instead of sandwiched between what appeared to be the world’s smuggest gathering of people and their patronizing concern for his sad, lonely life.

He knew the drill by now, and it was all he could do to grin and bear it through the usual third degree.

“So? Any ladies in the picture?” No, not a single one. Not to mention, wow, heteronormative much?

“Well you better act fast. Most of the good ones have already been snapped up. You’re not going to be young forever, you know.” No, really? Shit. Thanks for the reminder, Greenberg.

Or his particular favorite:

“Tell me, why is it that so many men your age can’t hold down a serious relationship?”

It was like none of them had ever been single before, the way they were all treating him like some sort of adorable but pathetic zoo animal. Like each and every one of them emerged from the womb with a ring on their finger and a bowling pin shoved up their ass. He wanted to take them all and throttle them. He wanted to scream, Don’t act like you’re above this. This time last year you were sitting on my couch in your underwear eating rice krispies out of the box, Jackson! Don’t think I’ve forgotten!

Then again, everyone knows what happens to zoo animals who go rogue on the people come to gawk at them. And why give them more of a reason to look down on him?

Or maybe more accurately, why give Hale more of a reason to look down on him? It’s not like he didn’t have all the ammo he’d ever need and more.

Stiles let his eyes slide over to where Hale was sitting, looking way better than he had any right to. Hale had never, ever, in Stiles’ memory looked flustered or uncomfortable in public. No, unbearably sexy was, sadly, a better descriptor. He was always perfectly stubbly and muscly under heinous sweaters that somehow still looked good on him, usually with a gorgeous girlfriend on his arm or some relative poking around and begging for a story from the bottomless well shared experiences he and Hale had joint custody over, all of them featuring Stiles making an extraordinary ass of himself.

By the time the rallying cry of didn’t you used to run around naked in Hale’s backyard made its way around the table, Stiles felt he was perfectly justified in calling an Uber and making a fucking break for it.

And, of course, leave it to Hale to come between Stiles and his last steps towards sweet freedom.

“I liked your report the other day,” Hale said. Well, grunted really. And with a face that made it seem like he was personally offended by every word that escaped him. Stiles had seen more willing expressions on people getting root canals.

“On the Beacon Hills Fire Department,” Hale elaborated just as painfully.

Stiles suppressed a wince. That piece. His journalistic debut, and he’d fucked it up royally by crashing ass-first into his cameraman just as the fire chief received a congressional medal of honor for his services. Every other news station had gotten the shot of the fire chief shaking the congressman’s hand. Theirs had gotten a shot of Stiles’ lucky Spiderman briefs. There were already gifs of it. Plural.

And thank you, Hale, for bringing that up.

Which, you know what? Fuck that.

“Is this all part of some master plan?” Stiles snapped, letting all the annoyance he’d been biting back tonight leach into his tone. “I mean, you seem to go out of your way to be there every time I fuck up and make a fool of myself. And I have to wonder if it’s on purpose. If you just want to make sure I feel like a complete idiot each and every time I see you. Which, if so? You really don’t have to bother.”

Hale’s eyebrows slammed together, making him look kind of constipated. “Stiles, I…”

“You what?”

“I’m sorry, if…” Hale’s frown deepened, then he continued. “I don’t think you’re an idiot

Well, I mean, there are… some situations that seem to happen to you more often than anyone else. You trip over things a lot, and you do let whatever mean thing’s in your head pop out of your mouth without thinking it through, and that Chippendales thing– that sort of thing happens a lot more than normal with you…”

“Really, dude?” Stiles was compelled to interrupt. Because seriously.

“Right.” Hale grimaced. “Well. The thing is, I know that when I met you I was rude. I didn’t give you a chance. And I think, maybe despite everything, I like you. Very much.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Just not the asshole tendencies, the awkwardness, and the sarcasm, right?”

Hale shook his head, then fixed Stiles with a look that had his heart thundering for reasons he was unwilling to examine.

“No, Stiles. I like you very much. Just the way you are.”

Why did your lot hate women so much?

Like I’m currently taking a course on Southeast Asian Culture and History, with some focus on the Philippines, my motherland. And before the coming of the Spaniards in 1521, the situation in the Philippines was as close to utopia imaginable.

Whilst women in European Middle Ages were being barred from inheriting, from receiving respect, from literacy, in the Philippines people (1) traced their lineage from both mother and father; (2) received equal inheritance regardless of gender and birth order; (3) were not aware of the concepts of virginity and chastity, hence women being as active in courtship and sexual relationships as the men; (4) had long hair and pierced ears regardless of gender; (5) had only a single pronoun; (6) had only a single word for husband and wife; (7) covered only their genitals because they thought that the body is a work of art and meant to be seen, but genitals are to be protected because they’re a source of power; (8) had a very different way of viewing power: it’s about balance, not dominance and violence; (9) viewed menstruation as an excess of power of the women; (10) had the men come live in the house of their new wives; (11) had the men or his family pay the bride price before marriage, which the woman will keep for the rest of her life; (12) allowed both men and women to practice divorce; (13) had women in charge of the money, etc.

And then the Spaniards came, with their new religion, and beheld the natives. The Spaniards were appalled by all these cultural differences. They burned the natives’ records, histories, written literature, to “save” these “uncivilized” “savages.”

But today, even now that preoccupations on virginity are present, rape is still an unspeakably heinous crime, right up there with murder. And when a man commits violence against a woman, he is regarded as less than a human, almost an animal but infinitely beneath even an animal.

When I first studied my readings I cried in anger.

Listen. At least two of my great-grandparents were Spanish themselves, so I have this conflicted feeling of owing my very existence to circumstances in history, but there’s also this anger and resentment. (Similarly mixed-race post-colonial people, I’d appreciate it if you share how you deal with this.)

And it’s a big part of why I love Dornish nationalism and resistance so much (and the North’s, to an extent). Dorne is almost exactly like pre-colonial Philippines except that they were victorious against the conquerors, and I revel in that in fantasy literature.

And so the next time I see “But that’s how it was in the Middle Ages,” in connection to criticisms of sexism and misogyny in fantasy literature (there can be dragons but there can be no different cultures re: women across continents apparently), I’ll be like, “lol, YOUR middle ages, my pal. YOUR history.”

anonymous asked:

what are your thoughts on people writing to killers?

I think people are often confused by what motivates somebody to write to a killer or somebody in prison for that matter. People assume that because you write to an inmate then you must condone what they do in one way or another and it couldn’t be further from the truth. There are countless reasons people write to inmates.

If you’re interested in something, why wouldn’t you want to correspond with somebody associated with that thing? How many people fascinated in WWII would jump at the chance to speak to Hitler? To understand a crime, you have to have a look at the criminal. Not just their crimes but them as people - how they behave and interact with people. Additionally, letters are the only interaction inmates have with the outside world, and while they have committed heinous crimes, they are still people. It’s counter-productive for inmates to be locked up with no correspondence with the outside world and the last thing inmates, or the prison staff need is for the inmates to deteriorate - mentally and physically. For example, isolated inmates are seven times more likely to harm or even kill themselves than other inmates.

TL;DR - I don’t care if people want to write to inmates or not. It’s none of my concern.

anonymous asked:

Pretty random idea I think would be cool to see... What if we combine the Role Reversal AU with the Saint Olga AU (My faves from your works :D), that'll be very interesting seeing a Sol and Lady version of Mars and Starla! :)

Strap in cause I drew a lot of things for this… (fair warning it’s a lot of fanon stuff based on loose assumptions and the new scenarios brought on by the swapping)

 First, we have to consider the brain-washer of this scenario. Since I swapped Heinous and Toffee around this au. Toffee will be the Headmaster of this school for wayward Princes.

A mild mannered Lizardman with many skeletons in his closet. He doesn’t look it, but he was the previous ruler of Mexi before Sol Rafael.  Adept at using the family ring, he(a previous name I can’t think of at the moment) sought to be the ‘immortal king’ and rule the land for all eternity. Raf and Angie overthrew him, and they and the rest of the kingdom have assumed his death. But his big ol’dragony final boss form, and being forced away from the ring(it got cut off) resulted in his current lizard-y form. So no one really recognizes him. 

He blamed his greed and emotions for the lose, and now lays low in his mutanted state secretly plotting for his return to power and glory. In this case, molding young patriarchs into perfect future rulers. 

Mars’ transformation would be pretty similar to those ‘evil marco’ concepts where he’s either possessed by Toffee and/or is basically Toffee 2.0. In this case, an estranged uncle remaking himself in his nephew. Like Sol, proper prince!Mars has a scar overlapping, and obscuring his mole. Except in this case it’s clearly a claw-mark and there doesn’t seem to be a replacement eye. 

Part of me kind of imagines that Stela/Starla didn’t mind her disguise so there might not be a “why couldn’t you make me into one of those ADORABLE maids?” line to be corrupted later. Like Guard!Marco’s line about ‘guards with cool masks’. But if we want to carry over the “Royal and Servant” dynamic from the original SaintOlga au then I also drew a maid!Stela alongside “proper prince Comet”. The “Gentleman Prince” to Mars’ “Dashing Prince”. I like to keep options open with my alternate universes and stuff. 

The reform school for wayward Princes only seeks to mold your royal sons into proper patriarchs deserving of the future title “King”. No nefarious plots here, NO SIR.(unlike Heinous in the canon show Toff still controls the school to this day thanks to his natural fighting ability, and manipulation skills.)   

Dang that was fun, thanks for the ask anon, and your patience. 

The Battle for Hogwarts: Why Slytherin House is Unfairly Vilified

Yesterday, I saw a post in which a Nonny Mouse said:

“Jk rowling unilaterally writing that not a single member of slytherin house fought in the battle of hogwarts and instead every single one of them hid like cowards is honestly one of the laziest most flaccid writing decisions of our time”

Of course, a number of people leaped to Rowling’s defense, praising her for her donations to charity and for her creation of a complex yet flawed world. I’m not arguing with any of that. 

However, the OP is wrong. The Slytherins did NOT run and hide like cowards at the Battle of Hogwarts. This is canon. 

According to Deathly Hallows (Chapter 31–The Battle of Hogwarts), Voldie makes an announcement in the Great Hall: he wants Harry Potter turned over to him immediately, and the people in Hogwarts have until midnight to do so. If they do that, he says, he will leave Hogwarts alone. No one will be harmed; the people who give him Harry will be rewarded. 

Once Voldemort’s voice is silent, this happens:

The silence swallowed them all again. Every head turned, every eye in the place seemed to have found Harry, to hold him forever in the glare of thousands of invisible beams.

Then a figure rose from the Slytherin table and he recognized Pansy Parkinson as she raised a shaking arm and screamed, “But he’s there!  Potter’s there! Someone grab him!” 

Before Harry could speak, there was a massive movement.

The Gryffindors in front of him had risen and stood facing, not Harry, but the Slytherins.

The Gryffs are followed by the ‘Puffs and then the Ravenclaws.. Also, they are pulling wands “from beneath cloaks and from under sleeves.” The Slytherins are all facing angry classmates who are armed with functioning weaponsClassmates who are ready to attack because of the words of one person.

Then McGonagall says this:

“Thank you, Miss Parkinson.” said Professor McGonagall in a clipped voice. “You will leave the Hall first with Mr. Filch. If the rest of your House could follow.”

Perhaps, after a year with the Death Eaters in charge, she knew how the other Slytherins thought. But we readers didn’t see that year.  What I saw was a panicked seventeen-year-old who didn’t want to die. Yes, she was screaming for someone to grab Harry and turn him over to Voldemort, which was neither fair nor right. But she didn’t attack Harry. And the other Slytherins hadn’t even made a move to do so when the rest of the school drew their weapons.

So no. The Slytherins did not “run and hide like cowards.” They did not balk at fighting their relatives and possibly their parents. McGonagall—the Head of Gryffindor—was not trying to spare them. She threw the Slytherins—at least the ones who were of age—out of Hogwarts on the eve of battle. (It was decided in the previous chapter that ALL underage students, which would be eleven- to sixteen-year-olds from ALL Houses, would be evacuated to Hogsmeade by means of secret passages that connected the school to the town.)

Remember, please, what was outside of Hogwarts. Voldemort’s forces consisted of more than mere Death Eaters. There were giants…or, if you prefer an anime term, titans. There were carnivorous venomous spiders, each the size of a small car. Werewolves—hated and feared throughout the Potterverse–led by the creepily pedophilic Fenrir Greyback. And worst of all, soul-devouring Dementors. 

McGonagall, veteran of the First War with Voldemort and member of the Order of the Phoenix, surely had an idea of who Voldemort’s allies were; they didn’t change from the First War to the Second. She also knew what the castle would soon be facing; all the teachers, including her, were preparing for magical battle prior to the meeting in the Great Hall.

She knew. And she threw a group of seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds out to face not just their parents and kinfolk, but an enormous army of actual monsters who didn’t really care who they destroyed. And the one refuge from the monsters—Hogwarts—was barred to them.

Because of one person’s words.

"Our choices are what define us,” my ass.

Voldemort boasts to Snape later that all the Slytherins joined him except for Draco Malfoy (who was still inside Hogwarts, IIRC). This doesn’t surprise me; people will do heinous things to stay alive. And saying, “No, we’re NOT on Lord Voldemort’s side!”, however moral it would have been, would not have been conducive to continued breathing.

Therefore, we don’t know if siding with Voldemort reflected deeply held convictions or was a lie born of desperation. We don’t know if any Slytherins performed sabotage behind the lines; we don’t know if any of them fought the monsters once the battle was joined. Given the existence of Andromeda Tonks (an ally of the Order, if not a member), Regulus Black (surely the most quixotic of Death Eaters), and Horace Slughorn (who did fight for Hogwarts), it’s hardly impossible that some Slytherin students did.

And there’s one final irony.

Remember what Pansy suggested–that Harry be turned over to Voldemort?

Well, what does Harry end up doing? He walks into Voldemort’s camp, turns himself over to Voldemort, and lets Voldie kill him. (Or try to kill him anyway.)

The action that saved the Wizarding World…was the suggestion of a frightened Slytherin.

Yes, abortion is legal, but that does not change the fact that it is a heinous evil. And because it is a heinous evil, despite the law, there is still a whisper of something, a sense, an instinct, an innate understanding that Lena Dunham even hears and feels herself. It’s this nagging voice that says to the most avid pro-abort, to every woman who has killed her child no matter how deep her denial, to every sentient human being: “This is wrong. This is shameful. This is murder.”

This is what the pro-abortion camp calls “stigma.” They blame it on society. They blame it on the Patriarchy. They blame it on pro-lifers. But those are ridiculous cop outs and they know it. Conservatives and pro-lifers do not have nearly enough influence to create a culture that stigmatizes anything. I wish we did. But those days are long gone, and now a woman who supports abortion, or who has had an abortion, can carry on with her life and almost entirely avoid anyone who might so much as suggest that child murder is an ill advised practice.

Almost everything she encounters will either be neutral on the abortion question or actively reinforce what she already believes about it. If she turns on the TV, unless she flips over to EWTN, she will find countless examples of the media and Hollywood trying very hard to normalize and “de-stigmatize” abortion. It’s so common now that Salon was able to compile a list of the “Top 10 abortion moments” on TV this year.

If a woman feels a “stigma” about abortion, then, where is it coming from? Not from our culture, clearly, so where? Answer: her conscience. This “stigma” is not the work of conservatives or Republicans or society, but of God. What they call a “stigma” is really their soul speaking to them and telling them: “This is wrong. This is shameful. This is murder.”

It’s really for their own sake — only secondarily for the sake of their movement — that they do battle with that voice. When a woman “shouts her abortion,” she’s not shouting at us. She’s shouting at herself to drown out her conscience. When Lena Dunham complains of a “stigma,” she’s really complaining about the existence of the ingrained Natural Law which gives all human beings an innate understanding of right and wrong.

—  Matt Walsh - The Blaze
Stealing The Bite Pt. 2

Genre: Smut, angst, and a teeny bit of fluff

Word count: 6,203

Author’s Note: I hope you guys give this a chance. I worked really hard on it :))

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

 The forest was an absolute desolation. Alters were desecrated. Offerings were stolen. Symbols of the goddesses were defiled. The air was laced with wicked powers. They drill into your skin, seeking a way in. Your heart thumps in your chest. Every beat feels like you heart is slamming itself against your rip cage, willing itself to expire. Your body thrums with the instinct to run, to turn tail and head far away from this cursed ground. But the powers take a hold of your body, and move you forwards like a puppet on strings.

The sound of leaves crunching under your footsteps pierces the eerie stillness of the night, and it feels like you’re stepping on the very skeleton of the forest. Shrill screams echo in the distance, originating from the direction the powers are leading you. You try to stop your limbs from moving but the more you struggle the more they propel you faster and faster.

Keep reading

a mere exaggeration

“The weretiger, Nakajima Atsushi, immediately regenerated-”

“That is a lie.”

Atsushi and Chuuya both look up to meet the steely eyes of Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, who had previously been standing there, listening to Chuuya reading out the report depicting Atsushi and Akutagawa’s first encounter, silent as a sentinel, hands in his pockets. Now his attention has been caught and his eyes are lit with fierce determination.

Chuuya looks down in mock interest at Atsushi’s right leg. “Really?”

“I mean,” Akutagawa replies, with a minute cough. “It’s an exaggeration. The weretiger’s leg didn’t immediately regenerate.”

Chuuya blinks once, looking extremely exasperated under the brim of his hat. He raises a thin eyebrow in questioning. “So?”

“So?” Akutagawa returns back indignantly, pale face almost paling even further in an appalled expression. “That is a greatly overstated fact! I thought we promoted efficiency in the Port Mafia.”

“This has got nothing to do with efficiency,” Chuuya answers tiredly, rolling his eyes. He watches Dazai, who is perched on a chair at the other side of the table, but the suicidal maniac’s chipper expression doesn’t shift. He’s probably amused by this.

“Whatever. I still feel the need to correct this heinous report.”

Chuuya rolls his eyes again while Atsushi snorts and snaps, “What’s the problem?”

“The problem, you pathetic weretiger,” Akutagawa retorts, eyes shooting daggers into Atsushi, who flinches at the overdone hostility, “is that I remember clearly that your right leg did not immediately regenerate. That makes you look like some kind of Ability Superman. The truth, Chuuya-san, is that the weretiger was first screaming in pain. And crying. In a pool of blood. Without his right leg for, like, five minutes. He was also begging for mercy-”

“Now that’s a lie!” Atsushi declares, thrusting a gloved finger at Akutagawa’s nose. “I do not remember that at all!”

“Of course you wouldn’t. You were in a state of shock.”

“I never begged you for mercy. I agree about the screaming part, but maybe it was because of the teeny weeny problem called having my leg ripped off!”

“Oh God, Dazai,” Chuuya mutters, rubbing his brow in frustration. “They’re worse than us.” He watches Dazai’s smile grow tighter, as if he was getting fed up himself.

“Well, partners are not always friends at first, correct?”

Chuuya gives Dazai another eye roll before saying, “Enough!”, a wave of gravity rolling over the room, forcing Atsushi and Akutagawa’s argument to halt abruptly. Both of them watch as Chuuya takes out a pen and with a precise gesture, he writes something in the report. After he is finished, he lifts up the paper.

“The weretiger, Nakajima Atsushi, eventually regenerated …”

Akutagawa gives a pleased smirk while Atsushi crosses his arms over his chest and scoffs.


As you all know, in the most recent episode, Into the Wand, Disney dropped a TON of hints regarding who Toffee was and Star’s ancestry. There’s going to be a lot of speculation in this theory but basically I’ll be talking about Mewni’s Timeline and how it relates to all of this lore. Prepare for some mind blowing speculation. This’ll be a long post so if you’re not into theories, you can skip it now. Otherwise, delve into the abyss:

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I also felt that Heinous was very jarring for how Marco's parents acted. If Heinous was attacking Marco, this would change the story around. As Angie and Rafael still act in their cheering but concerned personality on their own terms. Heinous calling them out on their absence made it worse. They're just work busy. And taking out the Morrisons and that police offer will make a much more better story. And the Diazes after all should've trust Starco that Heinous is evil. Sad to see Diazes angry.

Not Established Lore

Look, even if the writers weren’t going for the “Wanna be one of the cool kids” angle, that’s how the episode came off. The minute you mention someone being cool and or trying to impress them, it comes off as though the character(s) have an obsession with becoming cool themselves!

And if the Diaz’ do have an desire to be the “cool couple” on the block, it’s never addressed prior to the episode! It just comes out of left field for no reason other than to emphasize the Diaz’ major flaw (absent parental figures).

Sorry for ranting, but it honestly feels as though the whole ordeal was shoehorned into the episode -JUST- so Heinous can be all “Holier than thou.”

I Never Stopped

It had become a common thing. They’d meet in his apartment, eight o'clock sharp, and work until eleven. Ezra dictated, Aria typed. What Aria didn’t like, she omitted, what Ezra didn’t like, she tweaked until he did. They were undoubtedly an efficient team, which was not surprising to either of them.

They had fallen back into the same old habits; takeout, movies playing unnoticed in the background, sitting on the floor in front of the couch instead of actually on it- something Ezra questioned as much as he used to. The situation was familiar; things were so close to what they used to be, but there was a blockade of abandoned emotion and untouchable subject matter between them that worked to separate their relationship like a stone wall.

For one, there was the pain. He was always close to being angry, except the brief moments in which they were laughing. Those were the best times, when they’d laugh. His laugh was the same as it used to be, deep and full, not broken and inconsistent like the rest of him was now.

Then there was the alcohol. There was always a tumbler of scotch in his grip, a bottle wedged between his knees, a bottle of wine open on the coffee table, enough liquor to keep him drunk enough to get through the night.

It killed Aria, bit by bit, with every sip he took. She knew it was none of her business to tell him what he could and could not do- he was doing a goddamn favour for her, after all, but she couldn’t stand sitting back and watching him destroy his life. She didn’t recognize him like this, and a part of her felt empty. She had always sought comfort in the idea that somewhere in the world was still her Ezra, the generous, mixed-up poet with honest intentions, and that maybe one day she’d see him again. But this wasn’t him.

One night, they were curled on the floor side by side, Aria clicking away at her computer as he dictated. She watched as he brought the whiskey to his mouth, the first sip of his second glass, and suddenly shut her computer.

“What are you doing?” Ezra asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Remember that time I tried your scotch and almost threw up?” Aria giggled, and reached for his cup. She had an idea.

Ezra grew quiet for a moment, pondering back to when they were younger, when she would ask him about all the adult things she’d never experienced. He remembered that particular night and laughed, remembering Aria running to the sink to rinse out her mouth.

“I wonder if the years have changed me,” Aria took a small sip of the whiskey, gagged slightly at its awful flavour, and set it on the coffee table just out of Ezra’s reach. “That’s heinous.”

He shook his head, a smile still on his face. “Remember that time we went to a French restaurant and you tried to finish a glass of wine and couldn’t do it? So we took the bottle home and made a lantern out of it?”

Aria laughed. She’d forgotten about that.

“Remember that time we went to that art museum and the artist didn’t show up?” Aria asked. “And you picked me up in a limo?”

“Of course I do. I’ll never forget that red dress.”

Aria blushed. It was a push pull of foreign and familiar, hearing him say those words. She realized he was leaning slightly closer, the alcohol momentarily forgotten.

“Remember that time you went after a guy in class when you were mad at me?” She laughed. During college, sometimes she speculated the inappropriateness of their relationship. But she missed the way she felt about Ezra, the way Ezra had undoubtedly felt about her. She regretted nothing about their relation.

“I used to love reading your essays,” he said, slightly lower. “That was one of my favourite things to do, I loved hearing your written voice.”

“My written voice?” Aria speculated.

“Yeah,” he breathed, cheeks reddening. He felt embarrassed for speaking so deeply. “The voice in your head.”

She realized how deep he was breathing, how intensely he was looking at her. She frowned. The sadness that glowed off of him was palpable.

“Remember when you used to hold my hand when I was upset?” Aria boldly reached for his palm and squeezed it, and watched the way his eyes suddenly flickered with life again, even for just a second.

She revelled the feeling of his hand; secure and warm and comforting, everything she missed so much about him.

“I hate seeing you upset- hated seeing you upset.” He was staring at her hand in his. “Remember when you used to fall asleep in my arms?”

She blushed. “Of course. You always picked the most boring movies.”

He smiled again.

There was suddenly a denseness between them, hot and dark and overwhelming. Ezra turned slightly to face her, eyes following the curve of her face to her neck and all the way back down to their hands. “Remember when I thought I lost you forever?”

Aria bit her lip. “Remember when I forgave you?”

“Remember when i kissed-” he froze, he’d hit unmarked territory.

Aria however felt a sudden burn of anticipation, deep in her chest.
“Whipped cream off my lip?”

He was staring at her mouth. “Mm.”

Aria let out a small breath, feeling herself being pulled to him, closer, closer, “remember when I did this?” She pushed her fingers through the soft waves of his hair and out of his eyes, their faces inches apart.

He paused. “I missed your eyes.”

And then their lips crashed together, a collision of pent-up emotion left idle for years. Kissing wasn’t going to fix everything, but it seemed like for the moment, right now, everything would be okay.

“Remember how much I loved you?” Ezra thought, lips against the skin of her neck. “I never stopped.”

Hi I just wanted to write a one shot because I haven’t written fanfiction in a dogs age and I’m super excited about ezria this season. :)

anonymous asked:

Princess Lady Serenity, I've always dreamed of being a princess but a requirement of being one is to be pure and innocent. I'm not pure and innocent at all - I've had a past of bullying and abuse. I feel that "princess" is only afforded to girls who were sheltered. I know you've been through bullying too, so I wonder, can a girl who has a sordid past be a princess?

Pureness and innocence are requirements of Princesses in fairy tales, but rarely are required of real-life Princesses. To be a Princess is part identity and part career - what is really required of a Princess is to have courage and dignity when we face our hardest trials. I don’t agree that your past of bullying and abuse robbed you of purity and innocence. The cruelties of other people are no reflection on who you are as a person.

While it seems like Princesses are idealized paragons of perfection, it is absolutely possible for someone with a sordid past (as you put it) to be a Princess, even if things don’t turn out well. To use a real-life example from history, look at the daughters of King Henry VIII of England.

Princess Mary was his eldest living child, who was forced to watch her father abandon her mother, Katherine of Aragon, for a younger woman (Anne Boleyn) because none of their male children survived past infancy. Princess Mary and her mother were publicly humiliated, and Mary was repeatedly reminded that her father did not value her because she was a daughter instead of a son. When her mother was dying, Mary wasn’t even allowed to visit her or to attend her funeral. She survived, however, and did eventually become Queen, but the humiliation and abuse she suffered at the hands of her father did have long-reaching effects for the rest of her life. None of the cruelties she suffered when she was young were her fault.

Princess Elizabeth, Mary’s half-sister and sole living child of Anne Boleyn, had an even more sordid life. When she was still a baby, her mother was accused of multiple heinous crimes she was almost certainly not guilty of, and Anne Boleyn was executed just so Henry VIII could move on to yet another wife who might give him a son. Elizabeth was so young when her mother died, she couldn’t even remember her. On top of that, despite her strong resemblance to her father, she was branded a bastard and denied the title of Princess (for her early life she was referred to as ‘Lady Elizabeth’). She was abused by her stepmother’s husband, and faced multiple assassination attempts because she was a Protestant and her enemies were Catholic. But in the end, she became one of the greatest monarchs England has ever had. She suffered, but became wiser and stronger as a result.

I know it’s hard to move on from a past of bullying and abuse. But you have survived. And as far as I’m concerned, you are definitely a Princess.

anonymous asked:

Are Star and Marco still good role models despite the fact they lied to the Diazes about any inter dimensional mischief. in Heinous? And is individuality still a good thing when Heinous said the princesses individuality leads to them to breaking rules?

Oh, but of course dear Anon, while Star and Marco may do some questionable things, they are no doubt good role models, simply because they teach people to be themselves, and to not let others tell them who they are or what they should be, and individuality is what makes each person special in their own right, without individuality people would all be the same, believe in the same thing, it’s our individuality that gives us our strength, it’s our individuality that breaks people apart, but it’s also what brings them together, sure individuality leads to some people breaking the rules in a very bad way, but sometimes some rules are meant to be broken, especially when someone like Heinous is in charge, because Heinous may not be fit to be in charge, while she is strong and sturdy, she is also very controlling and arrogant, but when she is faced with a challenge such as (Marco and Star or Expressed Individuality) she takes a very extreme approach, which shows that Heinous is very corrupted by questionable royal morals, and being a corrupt leader is never a good thing, that’s why it’s so important when the show expresses to embrace your individuality, there saying don’t be afraid to be yourself even when someone else doesn’t agree with you, cause in the end that is what makes you special, that’s what literally makes you you, and I think Daron and the Crew do it in a very masterful way with each episode and how they build their characters individually, so not one is the same, they all have their difference’s, but they all see the difference’s in each other, and accept each other for these difference’s, and become friends, these difference’s don’t drive them apart, they for the most part actually bring the Characters together, and the way the show conveys said message of Individuality is certainly great, and definitely something I think the show will try and convey more and more down the line, and I definitely couldn’t be happier to see more of this message conveyed, through both Characters and the show itself


Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law’s traveling costumes from “Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows” on display at the Arclight Theatre, Hollywood, in December 2011.

This was, of course, after the bohemian Holmes obtained a jacket, waistcoat, belt, boots (and hat and scarf, not seen here) from the Roma (the better to ride Shetland ponies with, I guess…). And Watson still sported his “heinous” scarf hand-knit by Mary…the scarf whose dramatic trajectory you can trace through the entire movie.

Black in Europe

“Ugh I didn’t like France. French people are racist”“Go to Italy! They’re so friendly and I hear they love black women”“Do Germans even have black people outside of the military?”

It’s something almost every black traveller fathoms before venturing abroad. How will my blackness be perceived in this predominantly non-black space? It’s a valid concern. At best, our otherness might put us on a flattering pedestal. At worst, we might get mistreated. Even traveling to remote areas of the U.S you will find people that stare at you and ask aggravating questions like “Can I touch your hair?”. I certainly wondered about how I’d fare as a black woman before moving to France. 

But this post is really not just about me. Yes I am black. Yes I am in Europe. But that really doesn’t make me special. Because even though only a small percentage of African Americans travel to Europe yearly, there are tens of millions of black people that are already there: Afro-Europeans. 

Black people don’t just live in Africa and the United States. Thanks (but like, no thanks) to colonialism, the African diaspora truly reaches some of the most unlikely corners of the earth. Most African Americans make the mistake of assuming that we are the only group of african descendants living as the underrepresented, mistreated, systematically oppressed minorities in predominantly white spaces. Tell that to the 55 million Afro-Brazilians. Or the millions of black descendants in the UK, Italy, and France. 

But our egocentricism isn’t entirely our fault. I, too, had no idea exactly how many black and brown people lived in Europe until I came here. I assumed based on films, television, and images I had seen growing up that Europe is one homogenous white continent. Full of sameness with very little variation of color or culture (or at least not culture from an ethnic standpoint). It’s the invisible diversity of Europe. In the same way African-Americans lack representation in almost all facets of our society, Afro-Europeans lack it even more. 

I had met a lot of people my first couple of months in France but I still felt something was missing. I yearned to connect with people that were like-minded. People in which I had an inevitable bond with. In short, I needed to make black friends. It sounds silly to some but anyone a part of a minority group in some way (race, sexuality, etc) understands this desire. 

The problem was never the lack of black people, but how to organically make friends with them. Making friends as an adult is not an easy feat. When you’re a kid it’s so easy! All you have to do is say this: 

But how do you tell a random person you think they’re kinda cool and we should hang out in the most platonic way possible without being creepy? 

Several months later and I’ve met friends of friends, connected with random people through social media, and have even joined a Black Expats in Paris meet-up. By speaking with people I’ve gathered quite a few perspectives. 

African Americans are both admired and envied in France. Believe it or not, we have the type of global visibility not afforded to others of the African Diaspora. African Americans are the examples of cool, the creators of pop culture. Our celebrities are their celebrities, our favorite TV shows are their favorites too. African Americans are vocal in periods of inequality and reactionary during times of social injustice. Mike Brown & Trayvon Martin are not only names uttered on American soil. “I Have a Dream” is familiar to all European ears, the “Black Lives Matter” cry has been heard around world and the Civil Rights Movement is a part of their curriculum just as much as ours. In short, the Black American experience has left a definite mark in world history. 

For Black Europeans, however, their history tends to get shoved under the rug. I am not AT ALL an expert on this topic but here is a concise history of European colonization in Africa in my own words. 

**Anndi’s Quick and Over-simplified History on the Conquest of Africa**

In the late 1800s, several European countries such as the UK, France, and Portugal had set up port cities in Africa for trading goods and resources. Everything was cool until this dude named King Leopold II of Belgium was like, “you know what would be awesome? My own territory in the Congo”. So homeboy sliced out a chunk of the Congo for his own PERSONAL benefit, not even in the name of Belgium. The other European powers (UK, France, Italy, Portugal, and Germany) started to freak out and thought, “Damn my ego is super big, how can I make it bigger?”. So they had a meeting in Germany, found a map of Africa, and literally cut the continent apart like slices of pizza. It’s worth mentioning that none of the African countries in question were invited to said pizza party. So NINETY PERCENT of the continent was colonized without permission, MILLIONS of Africans were forced into labor, resources were exploited, men were killed, women were raped, children were maimed, feuding ethnic groups were mixed…all under the guise that they were “saving uncivilized savages from eternal damnation”.

Flash forward several decades and the European Powers finally started to leave. Whether they left on their own accord or were driven out by revolutionary groups, the heinous effects of imperialism are evident for several African countries by way of corrupt governments, tireless civil wars, and psychological trauma.

**The End** ….Except not the end because these heinous effects still linger. 

I’ve noticed a slight lack in community for Afro-French people. For African-Americans, there’s this idea of fictive kinship. I may not know you from Adam, but if we are the only two black people within a predominantly white space then we will acknowledge one another. But that’s only on a micro-level. On a macro-scale, we have become masters of creating spaces for ourselves. Hair salons & barbershops, Historically Black Colleges and Universities, BET Network, NAACP… we have a black national anthem!! All with the intent of uplifting and strengthening one another, for validating our place in a society not made for us. 

But our sense of community derives from our shared experiences. Many of our ancestors were slaves. Many of our living relatives grew up in segregation. For France, and many other European countries, the experiences of black europeans, while similar, are not identical nor are they shared. At any rate, its hard to have a sense of community when you don’t even know how many people of African descent live in your country. Apparently, taking an ethnic census is constitutionally banned in France. 

For Afro-french people, they’re not bound together by race as much as their family origins. If you’re a black woman from Guadeloupe, you might feel a bigger bond to people from the West Indies than to those from West Africa. Honestly, I envy greatly that Afro-Europeans know exactly where they come from and even have family that still live in those countries. I have never felt so shameful about not knowing my roots until moving here. Every time I meet an Afro-french person for the first time, the conversation goes as follows.

Them: So where are you from?

Me: I’m from the U.S!

Them: Yeah, I know. But like where are you really from?

Me: Washington, DC. 

Them: What’s your family origin I mean to say.

Me: Um…I don’t know? My ancestors were slaves so…

Them: …..

Me: …..Nice meeting you! 

In general, there’s this idea that black people are never really from whatever predominantly white country they reside in. Afro-french people can be born and raised in Paris and never feel or be seen as “french”. Even when I meet White Europeans, they are generally skeptical about my origin story but for a different reason. Because I have a lighter skin tone than most Afro-french, many assume that I am “métisse” or mixed. During my trip to Italy, an italian man told me “You’re beautiful. I love mulatto women”. The assumption really bothers me because black and beautiful are not mutually exclusive concepts homeboy! But I do love their faces of disappointment when I tell them I am proudly, undeniably, 100% BLACK. 

But let’s discuss some positives, for there are many. While Black French don’t organize against injustices in the same way we do, that doesn’t mean they aren’t having these important conversations. The Afro-fem movement seems to be really big here. I’ve seen countless articles, youtube videos, tweets, and have even been invited to conferences by Afro-feminists to discuss the interesting balance of race and gender. 

I’ve met so many black french women who are smart and woke. Clever and funny. Women who want to be a voice for their community. Women who are artists, poets, and singers. Women who are beautiful inside and out. Women who are writers. Women who are fly. Women who are college educated. Women who want to uplift and strengthen their fellow sisters. Women who want to be a vessel for serious change in their society. 

So don’t sleep on Afro-Europeans. They have a very real place in our world. 

I would be remiss not to mention the Strolling Series by Cecile Emeke, which was in truth my personal introduction to Afro-European voices. Cecile Emeke is a British woman who brilliantly decided to film black individuals across the African diaspora. The result? Unraveling the generalized blanket of our black experiences into singular, personal threads of testimony. Emeke has filmed in the Netherlands, Italy, Jamaica, and many other countries and its widespread appeal has garnered a huge Youtube following. Of course, you’ll hear the familiar stories of micro-agressions, respectability politics, and self-love affirmation. But you’ll also hear views on mental health, sexual orientation & expression, capitalism, veganism, colonial reparations, and a plethora of other subjects not often heard from black standpoints. 

If you’re interested, I would start with one of my three favorites: Two Black Friends in France , One Black Male Feminist from the UK, or A Black Actress in London

So what does it mean to be Black in Europe? I have the same answer for someone who would ask what its like to be black in the U.S. There is no simple answer. The culture, the attitudes, the ideas, the joys, the struggles of black people are not monolithic. They are varied. They are nuanced. They may intersect but they don’t coalesce. 

I write this to say there is more to the black experience than what you have experienced personally. I think its important not only to have conversations on blackness within the US but in a global context as well. And lets remind ourselves that as Black Americans, our global visibility gives us a certain level of privilege. The next time you say #BlackLivesMatter, mentally expand that demand outside of North America. When you think of the black community, challenge yourself to think beyond your own borders. 

And if you’re able, travel abroad. Talk to people. Have these discussions. Your eyes and minds will open wider than you know. 

anonymous asked:

Do you think dylan supported gays/lesbians/bisexuals? Brooks brown said Dylan might be bisexual.

I think using the word “support” is a bit too proactive a word for Dylan? Honestly, I don’t think he really spent any time considering sexual rights let alone having passionate opinions about them. If anything, among his peers, especially his guy friends, it would be the standard dude thing to downplay any personal stance on that risky topic. On a personal level, within his own family, Dylan was probably more easy going rather than prejudice about that sort of thing if not meh about it based on his growing up in an environment with liberal parents. He might have even said he was in agreement with his parents on the gay rights issues. That would not surprise me considering that his mother said that he was malleable and could be persuaded to see others’ points of view. He was just being agreeable because it was the easiest thing to do.

As for Brooks’ claim, who knows what he’s even basing that conclusion about Dylan off of? Did he make assumptions simply because Dylan never had one single girlfriend in high school all the way up to his senior year or wasn’t interested romantically in Robyn Anderson? Brooks was socially outgoing and seriously dated around and Dylan, on the other hand, was very shy, introverted and..well, just not there yet with the dating thing. So, if that’s the case, it’s not really substantial, equitable logic on Brooks’ part. In addition to that, Brooks is not really thought of as a reliable source for the truth. In the 11K, quite a few people offer that he’s not to be trusted, often lies, embellishes things and is ‘an actor’.

Is it hypothetically possible that Dylan offered to Brooks that he was questioning his sexuality or might be bisexual but in what specific context? Kinda important. Do I think that Dylan would be hanging out with Brooks and then suddenly risk confessing something as painfully personal as.. “hey, man, I think I might be sexually confused..maybe even bisexual. what do you think?” I just do not see Dylan being comfortable enough to broach that topic with a guy friend, let alone Brooks who might be a blabber mouth. From what I’ve observed about Brooks in interviews and also in his stint on Tumblr, he tends to paint his two ex friends in a very minimizing, debasing manner whenever and however he can. i.e. (to paraphrase) “They died virgins” or “They’re worse than Napoleon Dynamite” By doing so, he gets to take jabs at them in a very public way and, of course, he’ll always have the last word as D & E are not here to defend themselves. In a way, I can’t blame him still wrestling over the heinous betrayal of his friends fifteen years later - but it simply means that what he has to say about Dylan or Eric is colored by his own personal grudge over them. Is Dylan bisexual? I would say there is really not enough evidence or specific anecdotes from other friends to support Brooks’ claim.

Now, Is it possible that Dylan was confused and doubtful about his own sexual identity simply based off the fact that he was unable to obtain a girlfriend in high school? Yes, that is plausible. Again, his own doubts about himself and his lack of confidence with girls doesn’t make him bisexual either. It’s normal teen self assessment stuff - especially for guys. He might be questioning because he lacks experience and self confidence to acquire any experience so he’s left to wonder about himself. If Dylan had his own doubts about sexual ambiguity, he probably wouldn’t divulge that these thoughts crossed his mind to anyone. We also know he didn’t feel it was worthy of downloading on the pages of his journal either. What he does mention in his journal appears to be thoughts about girls.

Tonight in my forensics class we had two guest speakers: one was an author and one was the person whom this author’s book was about. He was was a 39 year old man who was released from prison after stabbing someone which resulted in death when he was 16. He was sentenced to prison for life without parole but was released after 20 years of serving time. This man, this “killer” was one of the most genuine, remorseful, and captivating people I’ve ever met in my entire life. He wasn’t charming in the sense that he was cunning and manipulative, he was charming and refreshing in the sense that he was self-aware and responsible and filled with the determination to make amends in any way he possibly could. He committed a horrible crime. He took the life of an innocent boy in a moment of panic and poor judgement. But his story both prior and post incarceration was so moving, I was in tears multiple times throughout his talk. It hurts to know that horrible things can be avoided. It frustrates me to know the CJ system is failing in more ways than one and that upbringing and attachment can potentially save or destroy an individual. It also discourages me to know there are so many people I won’t be able to save in my lifetime no matter how hard I try. Today, I was truly humbled and taken aback by the candor and vulnerability of a person willing to share a story that they know has been scrutinized in more ways than one. I learned that my desire to help and make a difference goes beyond the walls of a therapy office. I was taught that there is no one way to be human and that incredible reformation is possible. But I was also reminded that while terrible, unfathomable, and heinous things can be prevented, they’re still always going to occur. This day lit a new fire within me that is burning so intensely I can actually feel it.