just because i am rich and white does not mean i like you

transcript of the speech i gave at Vassar’s black baccalaureate service

Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, honored guests, and the Vassar class of 2017.
Just saying that aloud made me feel old. Class of 2017? Most of y'all were born after dark-skinned Aunt Viv left the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. That’s wild.

I want to first thank you for allowing me to be a part of such a special moment in your lives. I am honored, privileged, and a bit in disbelief that you asked me of all people to give this address. I try not to have feelings, and I’m going to do my best not to cry today, but no promises.

I’m here to stand in the gap between you and your parents and guardians and any other elders in your lives that you stopped listening to because you thought they were wack and out of touch. I remember being in your shoes not TOO long ago, and it is my fervent prayer that something that I say here today will help you avoid some of the mess I went through.
To be honest I’m a little nervous, but I figured there was no way could this be worse than when Betsy DeVos went down to Bethune-Cookman, so let’s get started.

As you transition to life after Vassar the changes will be both inevitable and swift, so I’d like to begin by giving you some well-intentioned advice and warning you about the continued process of becoming an adult.

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anonymous asked:

Hey! I have a kind of random question: what korean beauty products do u use?? I am really curious bc I need recommendations? Sorry; it's a weird question.

It’s a great question, don’t worry! I can understand that, I love finding something new (and if that something new fits me perfectly then I’m super happy so!)

Sweats, I have a lot of stuff though so it might be a bit long-ish…

I’ll just start with skincare because it’s always what I’m looking for first:

The Face Shop Rice water bright rich cleansing oil (from normal to dry skin). The first cleansing oil I actually tried. It’s a pleasure using it, the smell is amazing, I will definitely buy it again. Removes make-up well for me, but I’ve read people saying it has a bit of a trouble re-moving very strong make-up, but since I don’t use it I’ll give it an A+.

• I have a few foams; one from The Face Shop as well - Rice water bright cleansing foam. Smells amazing as well, I nearly finished it. I have one stored I want to try, so not yet sure if I buy it again, but I love this one too. Also I have one from Skinfood Egg white pore foam - I think I’ll buy this one. These two might be a bit drying to your skin if using without a uh..bubble maker? Not sure how that thing called in english. It dried me out, I made that thing that helps making richer foam, now I don’t have any dryness so! Skinfood will probably be great for oilier skin.

• Theeen I have The Secret key’s Milk brightening toner. Still not sure about it, I broke out a lot when I was using it, but I am not sure if it was from it or from..period, I’m sorry, Still haven’t retried it, so don’t have an opinion except that I think the smell is pretty good.

• UUH i bought a lot of creams in the search for the perfect one. I have Tony Moly Pure eco snail moisture gel (smells fantastic, used it for the face a lot, didn’t break out, nothing really changed nor for the worst nor for the better, now use it mostly on my hands); I also recently bought Mizon’s All in one Snail repair cream (because I REALLY REALLY want a few marks to fade); comparing to Tony Moly’s it does make skin very soft to the touch. But I’ve been using it for like, six days, so other than that I can’t say how effective it’s going to be. Doesn’t quite smell, pleasant to use. Depending on how it goes next, I think I’ll re-buy it. I also use Aloe Soothing Gel by Nature Republic. used it all the time before i bought Mizon’s, never broke out. for now uh.. I kind of use it after shaving. HUGE container. I wonder if I will be able to finish it before it expires. Next (GOd, there are so many) Skinfood Fresh Apple sparkling water cream. Use it before make-up. It’s supposed to keep your skin matte, I love the smell of it, nice to use. My skin is pretty normal, so I don’t know how much it actually does what it’s supposed to. I’ll try it in summer and find out:”D

• nooow MASKS. oh, my love. sweet, sweet masks. I think my AAABsolute favourite is Skinfood’s Black sugar wash off mask. A present from my friend. Basically a scrub that you let to stay on your skin after you scrubbed. Smells amazing, leaves skin suuuper soft afterwards, will definitely 100% buy it again. Theeen I have Volcanic ash pore pack by secret nature. After using it the skin seems a bit brighter, a bit softer. Nothing too outstanding, but it’s fairly pleasant overall. I wanted to try Holika Holika’s Soda Pore Cleansing Bubble mask BECAUSE O MY GOD. BUBBLES. ON. MY FACE. BUBBLES. I swear I’m a child. I WAS REALLY CURIOUS OKAY. Pretty much the same effect as with Volcanic ash pore. Probably one time fun for me. (I mean. one bottle time, ahah). Theeen I wanted to try Elizavecca’s Hell Pore Clay mask, I think it was the first mask I bought. Wasn’t painful for me, skin is pretty soft afterwards, but I don’t think it does much for my skin? Probably because I don’t quite have that much to push out. It doesn’t quite catch it. Can remove dead skincells though, I’m sure. God. IS this all? No. I recently bought Holika Holika Honey Sleeping pack (I have canola); I’m still not sure, I had quite a big zit when I went to bed with it, in the morning it was, like, much paler and didn’t feel on my skin. Was it the mask’s doing? was the zit supposed to fade away? Not yet sure, since I bought it very recently with mizon. For masks I think that’s all. Kinda sticky because of the honey, but smells nice.

• I have one emulsion by The Saem Urban Eco Harakeke. Moisturising, smells good, make-up goes smoothly on it.

• the last for skincare: Ciracle pore control blackhead off sheet. I only used it twice, and it’s quite tricky and I guess takes some used to. basically does the job of steaming the face without steam and probably works a bit better. Pushes out everything from your nose, you just have to remove it. Didn’t push out as much as I’ve seen on pictures and in reviews for me, but it does it’s job. Nose is as smooth as a jellyfish. SO SMOOTH afterwards.

FINALLY I THINK WE ARE DONE WITH SKINCARE. OH DEAR GOD, not a million of products have passed.

Nooooow up to Make-uuuup~~ 

• BB CREAMS. I swear on those. I. am. a nerd. Before I tried any bb or cc creams that are sold in our stores they never fit me ever. They always felt so greasy and dark for me. I don’t know, I had the curse of bb creams and now i think it’s finally gone. The first korean one I tried was Aritaum Full Cover. The coverage IS nice, can be a bit shiny in a certain lighting, and feels pretty heavy on the skin. I think my problem with it was mostly my dislike for powders, so it felt sticky, but I think with people who DO use powders it’s going to work better. After that I tried Holika Holika Petit BB (Moisturizing). MY LOVE STARTED. I love how it feels, in certain lighting it makes the skin seem absolutely perfect, pleasant on daylight, doesn’t fell like a mask on a skin. Has universal tone. The Last one is CC, actually, but not less amazing. I’ve been using mostly it recently, CC Color change blemish balm. This one is MAAGIC because it’s like greenish-white, and then you put it on the face, and it turns into your face and it’s MAGIC i swear I love how it feels(doesn’t) on the skin, the coverage is decent for me, Baaaarely noticeable on the skin. I’ll definitely buy holika holika and this one again.

• as for concealers I have Aritaum Full cover liquid concealer for undereye (the tube is huge for concealer, I’m not sure if I will ever finish it since it takes such a minimum for me); and Facetone Creamy Tip concealer for any spots. Good coverage, most likely I’ll buy it as well.

• I have Sweet Cotton pore cover base by Holika Holika, still not sure about it, doesn’t quite hide pores much, at least for me, but the make up does seem to stay longer with it. I’ve read the reviews for people to whom it really worked in regard of hiding pores, so! Might just be me, striving for absolute perfection.

• I have A’pieu Cheek Chok blush. Overall nice, but I think it’s a bit too pigmented for me and it seems to be a bit hard to blend. Creamy texture, but not quite as creamy as I wanted.

• last but not least… tints. Fresh cherry tint, pleasant texture, but I think I picked a bit of a wrong shade for me, though if I use it with The Saem’s Saemmul Real Tint (it’s orangish) it gives a fantastic effect. I also have the latter in dark purple. Love those tints, stay forever (especially the dark one - which is also quite hard to wash off) surprise, tint leaves a tint! :”D Love these, gotta buy again most likely. If I ever finish those, ahah.

I’ve been writing this message for so long. I’m sorry it’s huge. I’m sorry I’m a nerd when it comes to makeup and skincare. Goodbye, money, GOODBUY. ;)

This is cliche and short but I actually finished it so

“Dex." 

"What." 

"I need another word for ‘cleansed’." 

"Do I look like a Thesaurus to you, Nurse?" 

"Chill, dude." 

”… Purified.“ 

Nursey looked up before he could stop himself, shock on his features for barely half a second before switching to… Pleased? Content. No, chuffed. (God, Nursey wanted to use that word in a poem one day. Chuffed.) 

"Thanks." 

Dex, however, didn’t look up. The keys on his thick black laptop clicked almost continuously, and Nursey did not debate internally on whether he was writing an essay or lines of code, because he had poetry assignments to finish for tomorrow. While not procrastinating, he shifted his mind to the whirring machine- it was really fucking old, but the thing was, Dex was the kind of person to repair his own electronics instead of upgrading them. (Like, with pliers and everything. He’s seen it happen.) The thing was in really good shape. Similar to the way that Hugh Jackman was by no means a spry twenty year old, yet looked like it would take nothing short of a battering ram to knock him over. A nice, solid, dependable- 

"What the hell are you muttering about now?” Dex muttered, the hypocrite.

“Aw, nothing.” (Hugh Jackman) “The next line.” (Hugh Jackman as a laptop)

“What’ve you got?" 

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Taylor Mason

I am really excited about Taylor Mason’s appearance in Showtime’s Billions.

Here’s Showtime’s behind the scenes introduction of Taylor on YouTube, with interview snippets with the actor and the writers.

I don’t know the show at all. It is definitely not my usual genre. No one does any science or magic, you know? It’s a fast-paced businessy financey drama thing. I don’t even remember how I found out, but when I heard that Billions claimed to have the first ever nonbinary character on TV… well, to be honest, I kinda did a skeptical face. The articles are all very US-centric, and explicitly nonbinary characters are not uncommon in some parts of the world. And anyway, “nonbinary character” usually means “gender non-conforming binary character” because that’s usually the best we can hope for. But yeah, I was interested, so I looked into it.

Here’s my TL;DR: Billions is the first mainstream US TV show to my knowledge that contains a character overtly described as nonbinary and whose they/them pronouns are stated in the show and affirmed by almost all of the other characters.

We’re introduced to Taylor, played by Asia Kate Dillon (also nonbinary, they/them pronouns), in the first episode of season 2 - toying with another character about being vegan. They’re a sharp, brilliant, think-outside-the-box intern.

In episode 2 it gets a bit more in-your-face:

That guy in the second shot, Bobby Axelrod, is the very rich, very arrogant boss of macho boy’s club Axe Capital. And he just accepts Taylor’s assertion of their pronouns, no questions asked, no raised eyebrows. Just, “okay.”

Taylor proceeds to seriously impress the very rich arrogant boss guy in the chair.

Taylor isn’t going through some coming out plot, working out their gender and discovering themself. Taylor is out and comfortable and confident in their identity. People who refuse to accept them get bulldozed, either by other characters or by the plot itself.

Later in that episode there’s a scene in which Taylor isn’t present, and Taylor is misgendered by that bald guy, Bill:

It’s hard to capture the tone in this scene. It’s an alpha male showdown, over a nonbinary person’s pronouns. The arrogant guy who misgenders Taylor gets corrected, and then has two guys above him in the pecking order stare him down until he concedes, in body language and facial expression. Taylor’s rich white old guy boss is not gonna tolerate you misgendering them. (Over the next few episodes it becomes clear that Taylor is replacing Bill as Axelrod’s “favourite.”)

Bobby Axelrod upholds the pronouns of every singular-they nonbinary person in this one scene, to everyone watching the show. After that the conversation continues as before. It all happens very naturally as part of a conversational plot to take down a business rival, like it’s important and yet no big deal at all to correct a colleague’s pronouns.

There are people watching this who are nonbinary and going “wow, that’s me.” There are nonbinary people who haven’t worked themselves out watching this and going “wow, maybe that’s me?” There are parents of nonbinary kids watching this and going, “wow, maybe using new pronouns isn’t so hard? Maybe my child is not just going through a phase?” There are nonbinary kids watching this with their parents, thinking “maybe now my parents see Taylor being taken seriously they will take me more seriously.”

This is incredible.

Naturally, I have concerns. I’ve got them on the back-burner because one TV show is not a pattern among TV shows. It does, however, fit a known trend of nonbinary visibility.

Taylor is white, AFAB, thin, young, wealthy, able-bodied, and masculine-presenting. They fit the nonbinary cliché so well that I can’t even find any deviation from it. In reality nonbinary people are very diverse in pronouns, gendered presentation, race, body type, and class. But when newspapers are interviewing these “new” and fascinating nonbinary people, they always seem to choose people mostly like me: white, thin, AFAB, young, apparently able-bodied, androgynous-to-masculine-presenting. (I’ve been interviewed by journalists for articles about nonbinary people that then didn’t even include me in the final piece, because I refused to be seen as a representative of nonbinary people in some way.)

Taylor is also autistic. I don’t know if it’s deliberate, goodness knows writers create accidentally autistic characters all the time, but if you know what to look for in TV-autism it’s really really clear. And people really like to draw attention to the way autism and gender non-conformity overlap, to the extent that articles have been written by and focusing on doctors who believe that some gender non-conformity is directly caused by autism and should not be treated. (Article link. Warning: Daily Mail, general awfulness, etc.)

So going forward, I’m hoping that if and when there are more nonbinary people in TV shows we get to see some femininity, some differing body types, some people of colour, etc. I’m also hoping that we get to see some nonbinary people who are not obviously autistic - characters who express emotion freely and are not somehow brilliantly sharp and intelligent and innovative in one particular area of interest, for example.

But for now, I am thrilled. A TV show is portraying someone like me. In this case I’m lucky because I fit that autistic nonbinary cliché down to the ground, and I am perfectly represented in a mainstream US TV show for the first time in my life. I want other nonbinary people to experience that too, and this is a huge step forward and a long-deserved validation of the nonbinary community. I am excited to see what happens next for nonbinary representation and visibility.

Prompt: Date Night!

It’s Fanfic Sunday! (Monday whoops, ran a little late because I got carried away with the writing) Prompt is Formal Event + aquarium date, suggested by an anon and the discord chat! <3 Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy the read! Will try to do the other prompts next time! Read it under read more!

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Huntress in the Snow

What if Rhys had met Feyre back when she was still a little girl, alone in the woods and hunting for her family? Inspired by this beautiful work of art, here’s the hypothetical meeting between an abused, tired Rhysand and a tiny Feyre.

 

Rhysand rarely leaves Amarantha’s court Under the Mountain.

He rarely leaves her bedroom, for that matter. Life is just a frenzy of lies, sex, dancing, drinking, hatred and torture these days and he has long given up on making his existence bearable. He doesn’t really care anymore.

He doesn’t care for the stares they give him, the names. He doesn’t care for those pitying glances. He doesn’t care when Amarantha is straddling him, using him, her fingers pulling his hair.

Spring Court is covered in masks right now, but Rhysand might as well be wearing one, too. He doesn’t recognize himself in the mirror anymore. He murmurs things in her ears, he lies, promises, he kills on her behalf, he smirks and laughs and betrays, and he isn’t sure he can ever get back from that.

He’s doing it for Velaris and his beloved ones. That is what he tells himself, over and over and over again, when he’s buried inside her or when he snaps someone’s neck. It’s the only reason he’s still holding on. Velaris. Mor. Amren. His brothers. His court.

Court of Dreams. It’s like a bitter joke, ashes in his mouth. He doesn’t know if he will ever see them again. Doesn’t know if he wants to- after what he’s done.  

He probably won’t ever see them again. This nightmare will never end.

Life is miserable. Rhys doesn’t care.

With the way things are developing right now, his old enemy Tamlin is going to join them in a few years- 42 years have passed and that fool, that idiotic fool hasn’t managed to break the curse. If he realizes that he could save them all, Rhysand doesn’t know. Perhaps Tamlin is just trying to protect those he loves as well. Perhaps he’s trying- perhaps he’s fighting.

Perhaps he’s not.

Rhysand doesn’t care.

He also doesn’t care that Amarantha sends him to the human realm today. To find a group of fae from Dawn Court that have escaped; find them, bring them to her, watch her torture and kill them and fuck her afterwards. It’s nothing to him. He’ll play his part. He’ll be urgent and passionate- I’ve been aching for you, my queen, my everything, woman of my dreams- only you, only ever you- he’ll make her scream his name and kiss her afterwards.

All the while, he’ll be somewhere else. He’ll be talking to Amren, quietly. He’ll be drinking with Cass and Azriel, playing cards. He’ll be dancing with Mor. He’ll be walking through the streets of Velaris.

That’s the only thing he has. And even those memories are further and further away from him with each passing day. Rhysand is afraid that he’ll wake up some morning and find that there’s no fight left inside him- that he’ll just give up.

He looks around.

He’s in a forest, close to the wall. It’s spring, but snow still covers the trees and the ground. He will encounter no humans here- none of them would be so foolish, so daring to get this close to the wall. He sits down next to a stream, closes his eyes and just doesn’t think. A few, scattered moments of peace- he takes what he gets.

Just a few moments. Then he’ll hunt those poor bastards down.

Feyre is twelve, and she’s been roaming this forest for a year now. She’s been following the village’s hunters; copy the way they set their snarls, carry their bows. She has a dream: she’ll hunt so much food her father will get better again. Nesta and Elain will get fatter, rounder, and they will both find very handsome men to marry. Then it’ll be Feyre and her father, and she’ll hunt for him while he reads at home, and in the evening, she’ll cook for him and paint a little.

So far, she hasn’t ever shot anything bigger than a rabbit, and that one time was on accident. The snarls are what works better.

Nesta turned fifteen yesterday. Feyre knows her sister has hoped their father would say something, but he has forgotten all of their birthdays. Nesta has looked like murder all day long. Elain tried to talk to her, but she locked herself in their room.

Elain and Nesta are very sad, Feyre knows that. They remember more of their mother and they talk about her sometimes, exchanging bits and pieces of who she used to be. In the beginning, right after they moved into the little hut at the village’s edge, they tried to be there for her- but they have too much to worry about, now. They never even play with each other. They don’t thank her when she brings food home.

Feyre makes her way through the trees. She must always stay away from the wall- dangerous creatures are there, fae. She’s so afraid of them she has nightmares sometimes.

But today, some inner voice tells her that the wall is not dangerous. That no fae will hurt her. And almost by themselves, their feet make her walk closer and closer to the buzzing, invisible thing that separates their human world from the fae.

When she comes onto a clearing, she sees a man. He is sitting on a fallen tree branch next to a river and his head his lowered, almost as if he were praying. He doesn’t carry weapons, but his clothes are fine and elegant- he must be a rich merchant, lost in the woods.

Perhaps she’ll get a reward if she leads him out of here. Curiosity gets the better of her. “Are you okay?”, she calls over to him, and that is the exact same moment he looks up and meets her eyes.

It knocks the breath out of her. He’s a fae. His ears are long and pointed, and there is something otherworldly in his features that marks him as different.

This is it. She is going to die. Nesta and Elain and her father will starve because she’s not there anymore. How could she be so careless, hunting so close to the wall?

The man takes in her unwashed hair, her threadbare clothes, her make-shift bow. “You should not be here”, he rasps. “You should run.”

Feyre tries to be a still as she can be. The man doesn’t get up, doesn’t come closer. As if he knows that she’ll start screaming if he does.

“Go”, he commands, angry. “Don’t ever come here again. Understand me? Don’t go into the forest at all. Stay at home.”

And she should do just that, run until she’s far away from him, but…

“I have to”, Feyre says. “I have to hunt.”

“No, you don’t. A small girl like you should stay with her family.”

“You don’t understand.” She steps closer, her bow still ready in her hand. “My family will starve if I don’t. I am doing all of this for them.”

The man breathes in, sharply, and she swears that she sees devastation in his eyes. “What?”

“My father can’t take care of us.” Why the words are spilling from her mouth like that, Feyre doesn’t know. “And my sisters are scared. I have to be strong, even when I’m afraid- for them.”

The man stares at her.

“Are you going to hurt me?”, Feyre asks. She tries to hide that she is scared of that fae. She tries to pretend that she could shoot him, if she wanted.

He shakes his head, slowly. “Of course not.”

“What are you doing here, then? Shouldn’t fae be on the other side of the wall?”

The man smiles a bitter smile. “Usually, we should. But I…was allowed a little freedom today.”

“Are you a hunter, too?”

He closes his eyes. “I suppose.”

“Then you’re a little bit like me.”

“Well.” He laughs. “Not really. But I am doing this for my family, too. All of this.”

Feyre doesn’t know why, but for some strange reason, it makes her very happy that the man has a family. That he’s not alone.

“That’s good”, she smiles. “You should go be with them, not sit in the forest by yourself.”

He nods. “You’re right, of course. As should you.”

Feyre steps as close to him as she dares. The fae is very pretty, she realizes. All the older village girls would probably be in love with him. But he looks sad, she thinks, and she doesn’t know why, but it makes her heart ache a little. She wants him smiling.

“Here.” The fae nods his head and suddenly, a basket filled with bread and meat appears in the snow. “Take that home to your family. It should give you enough food to eat for the next few weeks. I can’t- I wish I could do more. But my hands are quite literally tied.”

“Is this some sort of trick?”, Feyre asks. “Some bargain? Some fairy magic?”

The fae shakes his head, a flicker of amusement on his face. “No bargain, little girl. Although I’m impressed you’re already so wary for your age.”

Feyre picks up the basket. This is better than the time she shot the rabbit. This is all of her birthdays combined. “Thank you- what’s your name?”

“Rhys”, he says, looking at his hands. “That’s what my friends call me.”

“That family you told me about?”

“Yes”, Rhys says softly. “My family.”

Feyre smiles at him. It comes so easy, the smile- because something deep inside her core tells her that she doesn’t need to be afraid of him. And she trusts that. “Thank you, Rhys. Your family is lucky to have you. You just saved mine today.”

He still looks so very sad. “Then that’s something”, he says hoarsely. “Before you go- one thing.”

And suddenly there are talons in her head, and she can’t move anymore.

“It’ll be over in a few moments”, Rhys says. “But I can’t let you remember me. She’ll find out, somehow. She’ll break you just for fun.”

Some white blanket is thrown over her mind, and the next second, Feyre finds herself alone in the woods.

What just happened? Why is she here?

Oh, yes- she remembers- the rich merchant who she met on her way here showed mercy and handed her the basket-

What on earth is she doing so close to the wall?

Feyre turns around and runs. Today is such a good day. She feels happy, not just because of the gift…but because of something else.

And maybe she can get through all of this.

Maybe she’ll find a way out of this someday.  

Rhys has never done something like this, but he forces himself to forget her. He pushes her image into the very, very back of his mind, he uses his magic on himself and forces himself to forget about that girl in the snow, that tiny, little huntress.

Because for some reason, he knows that she is important. For what, he doesn’t know. But he’ll do what it takes to keep her hidden from Amarantha.  

It makes him cry out in pain to use those talons on himself, but-

Rhys finds himself standing somewhere in the forest.

Why is he still here? He should go- hunt those Dawn fae down.

There’s a weird feeling of goodness in the back of his mind. Of happiness. And he remembers- that those he loves are out there. That somehow, someday, he’ll see them again. That there is a reason for everything.

He feels hope, and he doesn’t know why.

I have to be strong, even when I’m afraid- for them, whispers a voice inside his head. He knows who said it-

A girl-

He can’t remember. But that feeling lingers.

That night, when Amarantha is on top of him, moving and moaning about how good this feels after a kill, all he can think is the clock is ticking, you bitch. You’ll go down soon. Someone will come and end you.

When she leaves him, he showers and washes her scent off him. Someone is out there, he thinks. Someone good. This world is not completely lost. And for some reason, he cares again. Cares about what happens. Cares about who wins. Suddenly, he wants to fight.

That night, he has the strangest dream. It’s a hand, unpacking a basket full of bread, apples and meat. A small hand; a child’s hands. But it makes him so inexplicably happy he thinks about that dream for days.

A few years later, when Rhysand has long forgotten about everything, he dreams of that same hand again.

Only this time that delicate, female hand is drawing flowers on a table.

And something inside Rhysand whispers, soon.

Soon.

Soon.

I respect the opinion of my elders, but just an open query about the charges brought against my generation:

For not working hard enough: where is the evidence. When we were younger you told us you started from a small job and climbed your way to the top. When we are flipping burgers it’s because we didn’t apply ourselves. When you did it, it was shouldering the future by suffering in the present. When we ask for the money to buy bread, it is shameful. When others went on strike in the name of labor conditions, it was heroic. When we ask for more, we never deserve it. So how did you get here? Did you never sit up and demand the world give you what was rightfully yours? How hard working is hard enough?

We are illerate, use slang instead of language, shun poetry: did I just imagine the “rad” bloom of the 70’s? Is it because you can’t catch our tongues in your hands? Is it because our poetry is now published beyond books, beyond the control of one voice, beyond you? That our language doesn’t need your approval to evolve? When you drew political pictures of us asking how to turn a book on, you laughed at our ignorance. When the tables turned, when we were shown to be the most literate and well-read generation on record, you scratched the mirror. You said it was our lazy nature. A body rotting. Because we read trash, or we read into things, or we write loudly and it bothers you. Why does it bother you?

School is too easy: What was it like going to school without being worried about a shooting? Did you ever cower like we have, like I did, like our friends, crying muffled in your hands because you love your parents and now have no time to tell them? What was it like, dear, in a world where my standardized testing scores would have broken your curve and I didn’t even get perfect. What part is the easy part. Is it the highest recorded level of anxiety? Is it the rising teenage suicide rates? Is it the eating disorders, body dismorphia, self harm, self destruction? Tell me, have you seen - there’s a show called “Are you Smarter Than A 5th Grader.” It’s very funny. In it, bright young kids show adults that what we’re learning didn’t even exist in common knowledge while they were in school. Tell me. If you were up against our 5th grade curriculum, who would win? No, I’m sure you’re fine. You learned it all in high school.

We want too many free things: What was it like to want for nothing? What was it like to have a certainty that hard work leads to a bright future. What was it like imagining being rich instead of imagining just being rich enough to eat good food. What was it like, not being worried that a broken leg would cost you an entire apartment? Do you know they hate us so much they would rather see us die than bring down the price of an EpiPen. And since I know you love the idea of us abusing the system, tell me, where do I go to expose the lie about my life-threatening allergy? How do I fake it, because I’d like to opt out of it, and while I’m at it my mental illness, and while I’m at it can you take my chronic pain please. And since I know that the answer is to go to school and get a degree so I can be worthy of not dying, just another question: are you aware fifty thousand dollars a year is equivalent to a house. I could buy a house instead of going to college. Since you’re good at this, while we’re talking, I have two siblings. Which of the three of us gets the money? Go on. Look at us. Choose. Who goes hungry?

We’re entitled: yes, please, give me a deed, give me land, give me better than winning the lottery. What I’m entitled to is life, liberty and the pursuit of profit, am I not? So where are any of the above? Where did the jobs go? Why do you jail people for small crimes but free the criminals? And my life? This life? I end where my body begins, I am cut off from the nation’s decisions about what I can put in or take out of me. And me? I’m safe because I’m white-passing. Don’t the bodies pile up? Aren’t we entitled to justice? Aren’t we entitled to an answer? A response from the government? More than just speeches about how riots won’t solve things? Aren’t we entitled to a fair trial? To freedom of speech? Was it not our common fathers who fought for these things?

We’re lazy: Where? Who has the money? I’ve been working since I was 12, am I just an anomaly? Or do you just ignore those who don’t fit your story? All those student-run engineering projects that are changing history. All those protests. The art world, shifting. All these adults who demand more - do they count as lazy or as entitled? What were you doing at our age? Did it really look all that different?

We don’t listen to real music, don’t like real art, are loud, are too busy partying: We changed and you didn’t keep up. Is that’s what’s so startling?

We are sucked up into the Internet, wouldn’t drop the phone if the apocalypse was happening: my phone has my family on the other end of it. Do you not save pictures from a burning building? Do you really care so little for others you’d stick to the old ways entirely instead of texting? Oh sure, yes, a letter is pretty, I love them. But just asking for a friend: What do I do in an emergency with only a pencil. And I don’t mean to downsize the problem because I mean it’s not like you took Polaroids of your friends at sunset - right? - and it’s definitely wrong of us to want memories of a really nice night, but, just curious, did you post that opinion on the Internet? Was seeing others on the Web what made you upset? Maybe - this is just a crazy idea that popped up into my head - you should go take a walk, go outside, disconnect.

We do everything different: Yes. Because we were raised on the cusp of the next great Renaissance. We are in somewhere new, a galaxy of expansion that doesn’t rely on you. That knows more than you do. That doesn’t function the way you expect it to. How rose-colored is the past to you? The place where you erase AIDS and drug abuse in an effort to tell us we are a terrible youth. Where you don’t talk about the marches that happened around you. How painted do you picture it, simply because you had to physically look in a book to learn something new? How do you turn your eyes to a world where war sits on our necks, our earth melts, our populations swell, our people starve, and we are powerless in it all - and say, “It’s your fault.”

It’s our fault. The housing market, somehow related to our obsessive need for safe spaces, I’m sure, because our dreams no longer lie in yards but rather something big enough for at least a bed, and hopefully with tasteful curtains, and you have no idea what a safe space is. The certain failure of the two-party political system, maybe somehow due to our political correctness - we are, after all, rude enough to never open doors for old ladies or just let you be racist - how we controlled the media, how our desires drove this. Our request for trigger warnings and correct pronouns is a burden, and I see that now, because our special snowflake syndrome really does hurt you as a person; while your ongoing use of torture in corrective therapy is only a problem if you’re actually looking. You’re so right about so many things. When you beat us to correct us, it’s your child and it’s your right; when it’s our bodies we ask to have rights over - well, what did we expect? It’s our fault. The crushing debt, the companies that own our government, the privatization of prisons, the unrightful searches, the human trafficking and abuse of sex workers, the gun violence, the pharmaceutical industries which control our doctor’s choices, the climate change you only just started to admit is happening, the extinction of species worldwide - we are responsible for both pollution and poaching, the lead in our water, the death in our streets. So what do you get from it? From dismissing us? From quitting on us before the race begins? From forgetting who exactly raised us kids?

Now, I was told that the problem is that we too often point to bigotry. That we hide behind pointing out your sexist comments instead of realizing the truth your words wrought. I was told we are so focused on our victories, of a world that rallied for marriage equality, for gender expression, for the safety of survivors, for a healing nation - we call out instead of calling on. So I’m calling on you, Generation X kids. Here’s your free one. No bigotry spoken of. So speak. Explain what exactly you mean.

I get it. We asked for a country. The land is borrowed from your children, they tell me.

Now why are you so afraid when we show up and start collecting?

Ice Cream Is A Form Of Love

Anon request for Michael confessing after Jeremy gets his tonsils taken out!! I hope you enjoy it, I’m sorry if it’s not incredible!!


Jeremy complained about his throat hurting for weeks before being told that he needed his tonsils out. His appointment was set up for an early school morning, and was only supposed to talk about half an hour. Michael had gotten the text the day before, so the second the school day was over he drove to Walmart and grabbed a few pints of ice cream. Mint chocolate chip, pecan, and Oreo, Jeremy’s favorites. He stored them up in his PT cruiser before heading out to Jeremy’s house, where he was now resting in his room.

Michael tapped his finger against the steering wheel to the beat of his too loud music. He was trying his best to drown out the thoughts he’d been having since far before the SQUIP incident. It wouldn’t take a genius to see it, even Rich had known. All he could think was Jeremy Jeremy Jeremy. After the SQUIP stuff went down Rich had certainly tamed down the teasing, but that didn’t stop him from whispering “gay” into Michael’s ear whenever he was caught staring at Jeremy’s eyes, or cheekbones, or back-

Michael had to physically shake that thought out of his head, singing along to Marley just for something to replace it. He thought that Jeremy dating Christine would help but…somehow that just put a microphone to his heart and amplified the sound. Every time he saw Jeremy all he could feel was his heart racing and oh diggyidy damn were those gay thoughts-a flying. But he had just gotten Jeremy to stop being all awkward and worried around him, they fell back into their routinely friendship and just hung out like bros do. Bros, dudes, besties, not-gays.

But Rich and Jake had assured him that if he just told Jeremy how he felt things would go down better. Whether Jeremy accepted him or not, he’d feel better than just sitting around wondering “what if”, even if the thought of confession made his heart wanna chug Mountain Dew red to short circuit itself.

So yes, Michael was on a mission. And he was nervous. He shook in his car seat and gripped the steering wheel. He gave himself little pep talks. He wanted to see his best friend and make sure he was ok too of course, but this was a big deal and opportunity for him. And he wasn’t going to pass it up.

Suddenly he was face to face with the white door of Jeremy’s house, and he knocked to the beginning of the Pac-man start up. He was greeted by Mr. Heere with a “hey Michael! Jeremy’s upstairs.”

“Hey Mr. Heere, you’re looking better off”

The man had gotten a haircut, fixed up his beard, he even smelled like fresh cologne. He was currently fumbling with his tie, something only Mrs. Heere was good at. Michael came over and fixed up said tie, he was oddly close with Jeremy’s dad, he even gave him parenting tips.

“Thanks, I have a meeting at the office today, wanted to look…presentable I guess?”

“You look rocking.” He gave a thumbs up as he finished the knot and pulled away.

“Thanks,” he was saying that a lot today, must be nervous, “but Jeremy’s upstairs. He can take his pain meds in an hour, ok?”

“Gotcha, and hey, knock em dead!”

“As always.”

With the close of the front door Michael made his way up the stairs, the talk with Jeremy’s dad had calmed his nerves down some, but he was still on the verge of passing out. The door to Jeremy’s room was open, he would have let himself in regardless.

Jeremy was laying flat on his bed, looking up at his DS that he held far from his face. Around the room were video game and movie posters, a lot of crappy horror genre. Clothes were scattered all over the place, his hamper overfilling itself. The walls of his room were a deep blue while the bed sheets were a mix of both the blue and red strips. Jeremy stood
out from the room, at least in Michael’s love vision. He almost forgot to say hi until he saw Jeremy’s icy warm eyes look up at him with an arched eyebrow.

“Hey dude!” Michael made his way over, pulling up chair. “I got your favorite ice creams!” Jeremy smiled and sat up in the bed “I know I know, I’m the best friend ever no need to thank me.”

Michael was beginning to open up the tub to pour them some when his eyes widened at Jeremy’s response.

“…th'nks…” the poor kids voice was terrible! Scratched, croaky, unable to control pitch and overall painful. He made a strange undesirable sound, cringing as he held a hand to his throat.

“Woah dude don’t speak that sounds awful! Are you ok?”

Jeremy simply nodded, his eyes looked from the ice cream to Michael, before softening to become pleading.

Michael felt the heat rush to his face, damn he was cute. “Yeah- yeah I can totally do that.”

He took big scoops of green ice cream and handed the bowl to Jeremy. Who instantly dug his spoon in and ate up, the relieved smile he gave combined with the way his shoulders went slacked showed how good the cold felt to his throat. Michael couldn’t help but smile, he took his own bite, but it couldn’t be nearly as blissful as it did to Jeremy.

“So I’m guessing only yes or no questions huh…does it hurt?”

Jeremy nodded, eyes focused on the ice cream he was scooping furiously into his mouth.

“Is the ice cream at least helping?”

Another nod, this one a little more desperate.

“You’re not gonna talk at all right?”

Nod.

“…Am I the greatest guy you’ve ever met~”

A nod, with an eye roll.

“….well…” Michael almost through up, his voice was shaking as his heart hammered suddenly in his chest. Just do it dammit, don’t wuss out. At least you won’t be able to hear his rejection.

“Well did you know that I’ve had like THE biggest crush on you since maybe like 7th grade and I really really really like you because Jesus dude I like you I mean there’s a lot about you that’s just really awkward and sometimes I worry that you’re a furry but I just hecking love you man!” Michael let his word vomit spit out, unable to control his built up emotions.

He heard a clang as the spoon from Jeremy’s hand slipped against the bowl, “…whAt?!”

“Shhhhhshshshshhhh!!!! Your voice dude!”

Jeremy and Michael both had a match of fully red faces, their wide eyes stared at each other, neither blinking. Jeremy went to speak again-

“Nope! Nu uh! No talking!”

Jeremy gave him this look of shocked this belief, and knowing him long enough he was able to take fully sentences from those expressions.

“I know- I know it’s not a joke though Jerm I’m being serious!”

Jeremy’s jaw had dropped, his face seemed to be getting redder he the second, he nervously piled more ice cream into his mouth. But those eyes never left Michael.

“I-I know…bad timing but I just…I had to tell you ok so you don’t have to answer, I’ll leave you with your ice cream and-”

Jeremy’s cold hand touched the top of Michael’s. When Michael stared at him in wait of an explanation, the boy simply smiled cheekily.

“A-are you sure it’s ok?”

Jeremy’s face screamed ‘it’s more than ok’

Michael looked down at his sneakers, unable to hold back his relieved smile, physically shaking as adrenaline rushed out of him.

“What about Christine?”

Jeremy took a moment to grab his phone, type in a password, and do a fair amount of scrolling. When he turned it to Michael it was Jeremy admitting that he liked someone else to Christine, and thinking that they should break up, followed by a fair agreement by Christine. She even wished him good luck with the new crush and asked to stay friends.

“Oh…you like someone else…?”

An eager nod.

“…who?”

“I’s you…idi’t…!” Jeremy voice sounded god awful but in that moment the nails-on-chalk-board effect of his vocal chords was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

Michael smiled, trying to ignore the awful cringe Jeremy held and kissed his forehead. “Holy shit man this is like!! The best day! Ever!! Even better than that time I watched Rich fall down the stairs this is amazing!”

Jeremy laughed, the choked noise halting short with a pained noise. Michael kissed his hand “hey hey it’s ok…relax and eat your ice cream ok!”

Jeremy nodded, his eyes now holding an ‘I love you’ as he nuzzled against Michael’s hand. He ate his ice cream, before patting the free space in his bed. Michael handed Jeremy his pain medicine before laying down beside him, soon after about a half hour of cuddles, I love you’s from Michael, and eating ice cream, Jeremy’s pain began to calm down, allowing him to fall asleep. Michael kissed him again, he just wanted to kiss and kiss and never let go of what he’s always dreamed of.

Jeremy never knew getting his tonsils taking out could end up so awesome.

anonymous asked:

Bellarke: actors in a soap opera with so many plot holes and things that could never happen realistically

thanks for the prompt, I hope you enjoy!! ao3


“How dare you.”

Bellamy looks up with a grin as his dressing room door crashes loudly against the wall. “I see you’ve read the script.”

Clarke falls across his couch like a swooning southern belle, one hand to her forehead.

“After all we’ve been through, Bellamy. I can’t believe you would father one of my own sister’s twins.”

“Just one of the twins,” he points out, spinning his chair to face her. “Because that’s biologically possible.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” she sniffs, but her expression cracks into a smile when she looks over at him.

This is why Clarke is his favorite person on set. She, somehow unlike the rest of their cast, is aware of just how ridiculous their show actually is.

Which is part of why he likes it, honestly. He got into acting because there didn’t seem like much of a downside– if he didn’t get regular work, it was something he could fit around his patchwork schedule of minimum wage positions, and if he did get something more steady, it seemed like it would pay a lot more than Starbucks.

He never set out to be a serious actor, hence why he had no reservations about going out for any job, from voicing a squirrel in a Geico commercial to, yes, soap operas. He took the job because it gave him enough hours to get health insurance from the SAG. But ask him why he looks forward to going in to work every day, and he’d have to try really hard not to mention Clarke Griffin.

“Really?” He asks now, propping his feet up on her thigh. “It wouldn’t be worse if I was the father of both her twins?”

“You slept with her even after I saved your life.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten hypothermia if you hadn’t pushed me down that well in the first place!”

“I was possessed by my dead lover’s ghost,” she says, fighting a smile. “It was really traumatic for me.”

“For you,” he mutters. “Which one of us had to spend six hours in cold water?”

“I thought it was twelve.”

“I’m not talking about Antonio. I’m talking about me, Bellamy. They couldn’t even make it warm water?”

“They were going for realism,” she says, patting his ankle patronizingly.

“Yeah, realism is really important to this show,” he snorts. “Realistically, I doubt I would have taken my shirt off if I was hypothermic.”

“It was wet, it wasn’t keeping you warm,” Clarke points out, finally letting herself smile. “Besides, if you’re going to die, might as well go out looking hot.”

“Oh, you think I’m hot?” He teases, nudging her in her most ticklish spot with his foot.

She yelps and swats at it. “You were shirtless and ripped and wet. Yeah, I think that’ll do it for me.”

Keep reading

chasing cars

for @onethousandroaches! happy birthday to my salty hockey mom! 

some unbeta’d messy holsom for ya bc i love these boys

(I’m going with a few hcs I have, so holster is jewish and has gradually worsening hearing loss, and ransom has anxiety. I am not HOH, so if I got anything wrong please tell me! also, there are Hebrew transliterations in here! hope u don’t mind!)

(also whoops title is slightly irrelevant that song is just as soft as this fic)

words: a lil over 1k!

warnings: some homophobic language, and a vague description of an anxiety attack

Adam is seven, and he loves the ice.

It’s abundant in New York, especially in January, but he loves how he can glide across it so easily. Well, maybe not so easily, he thinks, as his dad has to pick him up off the ground for the fourth time this morning.

It’s a start.

Keep reading

POPULAR TEXT POSTS + ASK MEME  ( PART 4 )

❛ you inability to learn complicated handshakes is tearing this gang apart ❜
❛ i hope no one lowkey hates me. highkey hate me. hate me with every fiber of your being. go big or go home ❜
❛ my style isn’t even my style, i can’t afford my actual style ❜
❛ i feel like everyone has a teacher from high school that they’d 100% fight ❜
❛ i don’t mean to interrupt people i just randomly remember things and get really excited, i’m sorry ❜
❛ sir, you cannot name your son ‘Papa_Roach_Scars.mp3’ we just won’t allow it ❜
❛ if you asked me what my sexuality was, i couldn’t give you a straight answer ❜
❛ i just wanna wear lingerie, smell like lavender, and have soft skin ❜
❛ yabba dabba done with your shit ❜
❛ 5 years ago i was a fucking mess and now i’m a fucking mess but at peace with it and with a cooler fashion sense ❜
❛ the only reason i’m staying in school is so i can provide for my future ❜
❛ occupation: sleepiest girl on the planet ❜
❛ true friendship is willfully making someone’s emotional devastation over fictional characters worse ❜
❛ (not so) breaking news: i’m sad again and everyone’s tired of hearing about it ❜
❛ my new year’s resolution is to stop ❜
❛ people keep posting ‘what’s REALLY in your food’ articles like i’m gonna stop eating whatever it’s about lmao listen, death is coming. death is coming. pass me a hot dog ❜
❛ do you sometimes wonder why you have weird friends but then you snap and realize that you’re as weird as them ❜
❛ have you ever met someone who’s smile looks like it could make flowers grow ❜
❛ is ‘no’ an emotion because i feel it ❜
❛ i wanna be the one girl who looks really cute but also gives off the vibe that she could snap your neck if you disrespect her like is that possible for me ❜
❛ concept: me, having friends and being liked by people ❜
❛ the human body has 7 trillion nerves and some people manage to get on every single fucking one of them ❜
❛ replace my heart with another liver so i can drink more and care less ❜
❛ i need a hug and six months of sleep ❜
❛ good morning i’m obsessed with being loved ❜
❛ don’t come back when you realize that i’m rare ❜
❛ i’m stuck in between ‘i really wanna meet new people’ and ‘why can’t everyone leave me the fuck alone’ ❜
❛ can you believe some people meet each other and just hit it off right off the bat and just… date??? and fall in love? ?? that sounds fake ? ? ? ❜
❛ painfully average looking with a great sense of humor and always down to get drunk ❜
❛ people are always like ‘are you a morning person or a night person’ and i’m just like… buddy, i’m barely even a person ❜
❛ you ever talk to a stupid boy to pass time? ❜
❛ don’t talk to me or my 78 insecurities ever again ❜
❛ i’ll always have a soft spot for you ❜
❛ i hate being tickled. i do not think it’s cute, i do not think it’s funny. i will kick you in the fucking face ❜
❛ you inability to learn complicated handshakes is tearing this gang apart ❜
❛ there’s no blood in my veins anymore it is coffee and broken dreams ❜
❛ i’ll pay you $7 to have a crush on me ❜
❛ i’m a hopeless romantic… emphasis on hopeless ❜
❛ i deal with my personal problems the same way i study for tests… i don’t ❜
❛ half of me is a hopeless romantic and the other half of me is, well, an asshole ❜
❛ my biggest problem is i don’t like, do shit ❜
❛ how am i supposed to be productive when netflix just automatically plays the next episode for you? ❜
❛ a girls sleepy voice is probably the cutest thing that has ever existed on this earth ❜
❛ at like a really specific time at night i feel like i wanna fall in love or some shit but then i wake up and i’m ok again ❜
❛ i’d really like to be taken out tbh. in a date way or a sniper way. i have no preference ❜
❛ i don’t need alcohol to make bad decisions ❜
❛ i want to be one of those people who does yoga and eats berries for breakfast, but i’m one of those people who stays in bed until 4 pm and eats pizza ❜
❛ why are there waiting lists for preschools?!?! babies are small!!!! 800 could fit in one room, just stack them ❜
❛ raise your hand if you are scared shitless about the future yet couldn’t care less at the same time ❜
❛ i hate being the stereotypical emo bitch, but life sux, my dude ❜
❛ i wanna learn how to throw knives so i can throw ‘em like real close and graze somebody to let them know to shut the fuck up ❜
❛ my heart says yes but my mom says no ❜
❛ if we are ever invaded by aliens and they wanna destroy earth and whatever that’s fine, but leave old friends senior dog sanctuary out of it ❜
❛ i don’t want to get involved in the drama, i just wanna know 103% of the information on what happened ❜
❛ if i had the power to control time i would probably just use it to sleep more ❜
❛ guess who got shit done today….. not me lmao but congrats to somebody out there ❜
❛ i promise i’m a lot nicer than my ‘walking to class’ face would lead you to believe ❜
❛ why spend money on booze when i can get fucked up by conspiracy theories for free? ❜
❛ binge watching is great until you run out of the show and have to start watching it weekly like some sort of medieval peasant ❜
❛ merry crisis, everyone ❜
❛ my whole life is the one episode of friends where ross drinks all those margaritas and keeps telling everyone that he’s fine when he clearly isn’t fine ❜
❛ i’m a huge supporter of things which annoy misogynistic rich white men ❜
❛ kinda wanna go on a date, kinda wanna get hit by a truck too ❜
❛ do i even have a sexuality at this point or is it literally just ‘oh yes i’d kiss you’ ❜
❛ not interested dot com forward slash you ❜
❛ napping together is my kind of date ❜
❛ i’m trying to stop being a hater but it’s just so hard when there are so many things that need my hate ❜
❛ i need to stop imagining things i’d say in interviews if i was ever famous because i am not ❜
❛ guess who got their life together!!!!! …not me, but someone probably has ❜
❛ concept: the worst is over. everything’s gonna be okay now ❜
❛ me, giving your eulogy at your funeral: ‘we are gathered here today to mourn a friend, a relative, a companion and a loved one, and to kinkshame them one last time’ ❜
❛ one day i will take a really good selfie and you will be sorry….. you will all be sorry ❜
❛ i was so ugly in 2008 because i didn’t care about my looks, i cared about the jonas brothers ❜
❛ i’m the whole package: bitter AND petty ❜
❛ my life is that awkward walk/jog you do in front of a car when you’re crossing the street ❜
❛ i use sarcasm because flat out telling you you’re a fucking moron is considered inappropriate and is frowned upon and i was raised better than that ❜
❛ my aesthetic is looking really tired even when i’ve had enough sleep and having a lot of bad habits and responding poorly to criticism ❜
❛ yes you’re allowed to have other friends, you just have to love me more ❜
❛ i just want to be somewhere warm and making questionable decisions ❜
❛ i don’t have plans for tonight or the rest of my life if you want to have a drink or get married ❜
❛ screenshots don’t scare me, i know what the fuck i said ❜
❛ ‘you’re kind of annoying’ kind of? kind of??? excuse me. excuse you. i am fully annoying. i am very annoying. there’s nothing half-assed half-hearted ‘kind of’ about it ❜
❛ *jumps over hole in sidewalk* yeah you could say i’m pretty fucking athletic ❜
❛ i don’t ‘dress to impress’ i dress to depress. i wanna look so good that people hate themselves ❜
❛ sorry, i couldn’t hear you over my internal monologue ❜
❛ valentine’s day is coming up, i don’t know what to buy myself ❜
❛ you’re really cute and it’s ruining my life because i think about kissing you all the time ❜
❛ ‘dude, i’m wasted’ and by wasted, i’m talking about my wasted potential because i’m a lazy piece of shit ❜
❛ i may be a terrible person but at least i say please and thank you and use my fucking blinker ❜
❛ is it too late to try to be myspace famous ❜
❛ ask him if he’s good with his hands, then when he comes over, make him put together ikea furniture ❜
❛ if a woman’s hand is steady enough to put on winged eyeliner then it’s steady enough to stab you in the heart ❜
❛ please don’t get tired of me ❜
❛ finals? fuck a final. gone girl myself. ❜
❛ i really thought quick sand was going to be a bigger issue in life when i was little ❜
❛ i’m so tired of not being a multimillionaire ❜
❛ why must the cute ones (me) suffer ❜
❛ nasa actually stands for ‘not any straight aliens.’ gayliens are real and out there ❜
❛ not to be bitter or anything but i hope everyone that has ever hurt me is absolutely miserable ❜
❛ my mind says college, but my heart says isolated sheep herder in iceland ❜
❛ i am an adult oh god make it stop ❜

( you can find the other three parts here: 1, 2, 3 )

Let's get something straight here.

I’m fucking done with everything and everyone. Just because people aren’t used to something or think it should be a certain way doesn’t mean it’s fucking right.

1. Straight people are straight. Gay people are gay. Deal. With. It. Not everyone is going to be fucking straight or gay. Some of us are even in between like pans, bi’s, and shit.

SO STOP HOMOPHOBIA AND QUIT HETEROPHOBIA. SIT DOWN. SHUT UP. AND DEAL WITH IT. IF YOU DON’T LIKE SOMETHING, KEEP IT TO YOURSELF.

2. A Woman does not “belong” in a kitchen. And she doesn’t HAVE to be a wife. Everyone sees women as someone who has to be feminine, and cute, and perky and shit. NOT ALL WOMAN WILL BE LIKE THAT.

There are tomboys, a woman CAN become a soldier. A woman is capable of so much more than just having kids, making dinner and being a goddamn housewife. Yea I fully understand if that’s how SOME woman want to live their life, but NO WOMAN should be held back from what SHE wants.

3. QUIT WITH STEREOTYPING PEOPLE. Just because someone wears glasses doesn’t make them a nerd. Just like how if someone is buff and strong, it doesn’t make him a jock. Not every Muslim is dangerous, and not every white person is rich. And not all gays are “fabulous.” I got called out the other day because I am bisexual and someone asked me why I don’t dress like it then. Excuse me? BUT EXACTLY HOW WOULD A BISEXUAL GIRL DRESS???!!! FUCK EVERYONE WHO STEREOTYPES PEOPLE. GROW A BRAIN. READ A BOOK. Who knows, maybe you’ll fucking learn something.

4. People. Fuck. Up. But that doesn’t mean you get to fucking laugh at them, or judge them. Sometimes things happen and we all make stupid decisions. So don’t go fucking prancing around like you’re any better than anyone else.

5. How is it that if someone has a broken leg, or head injury, they get sympathy? But people like me, who are actually mentally injured, get judged and dismissed as freaks? Yes, I’m mentally unstable, that doesn’t mean I’m going to kill a person.

Just like how not every depressed person wants to kill themselves!

Before you fucking judge a person, know WHAT you’re judging for fucks sake, or else YOU’LL be the idiot.

6. If you think beating, raping, violation in any way is alright if it’s the “victims fault” then fuck you. You can die now.

It’s not the “Victim’s fault” no matter what.

IT’S NOT OKAY AT ALL.

IMAGINE HOW YOU WOULD FEEL IF IT HAPPENED TO YOU. OR YOUR FAMILY OR LOVED ONES. And no one would care because it was “the Victim’s fault”. Think about it.

7. WE ALL HAVE DIFFERENT BELIEFS. SO DON’T FUCKING GET PISSED OFF BECAUSE SOME OF US SEE THINGS DIFFERENTLY.

I grew up in a Christian/Catholic family and I REFUSE to believe in God, yet I believe in hell and Satan. Question me. It’s not fucking worth it.

Some of us believe in God, reincarnation, death, science, etc. Whatever it is, don’t judge another person because of it.

8. WE ALL HAVE A REASON. AND A VOICE.

It’s whether we choose to USE that voice, and if it’s for Good or Bad.

WE CAN/WILL MAKE A DIFFERENCE.

9. This is OUR MOMENT.

Our generation is what changes everything.

Think about this nice and hard.

Every move we make, Every Choice, will one day effect what happens to US in the future, to our possible kids, and THEIR kids!

With every choice on US. We HAVE to be careful! We need to make SURE we know what will happen, and what are consequences will be.

10. I AM USING MY VOICE. THESE ARE MY OPINIONS AND MY WORDS I USED.

IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM, DEAL WITH IT.

I WILL ALWAYS HAVE A RIGHT OF SPEECH, AND NO ONE WILL TAKE THAT FROM ME.

Nothing Sweet About Me

Corey Graves/Reader
2380 words; Smut/Explicit

This is set back when Corey was still wrestling in NXT and was requested by @southerndreamz , thank you!

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There are cupcakes in catering at the taping tonight, and you don’t know where they came from, but they sure don’t look like the usual blandly adequate backstage fare. And you probably don’t need the sugar rush, but you try one anyway, taking a tentative bite and oh god, because yeah, these are definitely not your typical catering dessert. They’re white chocolate with vanilla frosting, so rich and buttery that it melts on your tongue. You glance around, and no one’s looking, so you take the one you’ve just tasted and then another, just because, and head off.

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slain [kuroo/akaashi]

kuroaka assassins!au based on this answered ask i posted

tl;dr: kuroo is an assassin hired to kill akaashi, akaashi figures out he’s being watched, he manages to catch kuroo and then uses….. v special means for his interrogation method B)

~2.5k words

Kuroo is hired to kill him. That’s the task that he’s given.

Not a terribly hard concept to understand, really, when your job is an assassin on the side. Kuroo does it for the money, but he also does it for the thrill. His victims are lucky, though, because he’s a merciful, quiet killer. He doesn’t make them suffer, even if his clients request it. He’s not a murderer, he’s just doing his fucking job.

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anonymous asked:

Hi there :) so I was thinking... could you just imagine how the boys would react if the found out their s/o could actually sing?! Like maybe the found them in the kitchen, cleaning, or singing their child to sleep! Honestly I think this is straight up too much fluff for one person to handle! Btw your stuff is amazing, continue the good work ;)

Hehehe, this request is sooo adorable! I’m gonna write these as short headcanons <3

Noctis: Noctis has just come back from a long day of training. He’s been working towards mastering warp-striking and Regis has been pushing Noctis gently towards utilising more and more of the Crystal’s powers. Noctis is absolutely exhausted. He drags his feet through the lobby of his apartment complex and has the security guard on duty buzz him into the elevator before he rides it up to his floor. When the elevator pings, he drags his feet along the coarsely carpeted floor and absolutely hates life as he haphazardly bangs on the door of his apartment, eyes bleary and head pounding. Realising that no one is moving towards the door from the inside of his apartment, Noctis lets out a long-suffering groan and fishes his keys out of his bag and jams them into his door lock. After painfully jingling his keys around, he manages to unlock the door and fall into his apartment. He almost doesn’t hear the sweet, melodious voice over the harsh banging headache in his skull. But he lies still, sprawled haphazardly upon the floor and just listens as your voice floats towards him through the walls and into his ears. Immediately, he finds himself smiling. His headache remains, as do his weary bones… but he feels like he’s been healed. Noctis thinks that he can train as hard as he did today next week, at his next session, but only if he gets to hear your sweet voice sing to random melodies to soothe his highly burdened soul.

Prompto: Prompto likes it when you invite him over to your place. You’re usually a very private person, so Prompto treats every moment in your personal space like his very last. Yes, he gives you plenty of room to breathe and do your own thing, but then he also likes to stick close to you and keep skin-to-skin contact with you when he gets the chance to in a private setting. Prompto especially likes to lay his head down on your lap as you stroke his hair with gentle fingers. You like the way Prompto’s silky smooth blond hair feels against the pads of your fingertips, and Prompto adores the way you unconsciously pull gently at his longer locks after carding your hand through his hair. Sometimes, your movements lull Prompto into a peaceful sleep, and you continue to pet his hair and let him rest simply because you adore Prompto’s sweet, angelic sleeping face. When Prompto’s breathing evens out, you usually like to hum softly to keep yourself awake. You need to wake Prompto, after all. It wouldn’t do for you to fall asleep as well! And so you hum whatever tune comes to mind at the time, whether it be a classic rock song, a pop song, or even electronic rap. However, this time when you begin your humming, you don’t realise that Prompto is still awake. The blond stills his breathing and just listens in awe as your beautiful voice wafts into his hears and absolutely unravels all the existing tension in his muscles out of his body. When he movies to press a gently kiss against your knee, you are slightly startled. But then you relax as you witness Prompto shut his eyes again and blissfully lean back on your lap, caressing your knee and waiting for you to hum the next song in your repertoire.

Gladio: Gladio doesn’t like to listen to music while he works out. For him, music is like a crutch- it’s like admitting defeat to the delicious strain of your muscles before even beginning the set. That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t allow you to listen to music while you go through your sets of exercises and your cardio. You’re breathing hard and fast as you jog at a fast pace on the treadmill while Gladio is lifting weights in another section of the gym. You wearily glance over your shoulder for any presence of your boyfriend before you raise the volume of your music and run even harder on your treadmill. You open your mouth, absolutely enthralled in the music as you finish your final mile of running. You begin to move your mouth, simply mouthing the words to the song you were listening to before you felt your ragged breaths escaping you like breathy gasps. You shake your head and grit your teeth to try staying focused, but very soon your singing your favourite song blasting out loud directly into your ears as you run through the cool down jog. As you’re finishing your exercise, you don’t notice Gladio’s warm amber eyes on you. Gaze gently, Gladio merely watches you as your soft, sweet voice carries over to him and hits him right in the heart. He’s amazed at the talent and stamina that you hold, and even lets the thought of listening to and singing to some music during his workout cross his mind. If you were so good at running and singing at the same time, that meant that your breathing was absolutely amazing. Gladio nodded in approval twice before he made his way forward and wrapped his arms around your waist with a sweet smile on his beautifully shaped, thick lips. You gasp in surprise and rip your earphones out, only to hear the soft chuckle of your boyfriend telling you that he adored your voice and he wanted to hear more of it more often. Being the great girlfriend you are, you complied with his wishes from time to time- singing loud and proud while Gladio struggled to do the very same and sound as good as you on the treadmill right beside you.

Ignis: Ignis has known that you like to sing for a very long time- he’s caught you singing to yourself within your own apartment. However, you were none-the-wiser about his knowledge. Whenever he suggested a date to the local karaoke bar, you would simply shake your head and flush a light shade of pink before verbally refusing and explaining to Ignis that your voice wasn’t anything special. Ignis would not push the matter any further, but he does enjoy your singing and does want to hear it again without having to hide around the place to do so. He likes the way your voice rises and falls with ease hitting both high and low notes with such effortless precision that his heart skips and beat and falls down to his stomach. He’s thrilled to hear your sweet, rich voice, and he wants you to know just how much he loves it. And so… he plans a surprise visit to the karaoke. Ignis tells you that the two of you are going out for a simple dinner because he hasn’t taken you out anywhere for the longest of times. Unable to argue that logic, you almost reluctantly slip on a nice pair or dark denim jeans and a white shirt before shrugging on a bomber jacket and slipping on some sneakers. Ignis approves your attired with a sweet kiss to the forehead and the two of you head out in matching attire, a small grin on Ignis’ handsome face. When he notices your face freeze at the karaoke sign on the front of the building you two have just arrived to, Ignis clears his throat and sheepishly gestures at you with his elegant hands.

“I just wanted you to sing me ‘Runaway’ by The Corrs… you have a lovely voice and I felt like being swept off my feet by you tonight- I do hope that is alright with you dearest.”

You merely stare at Ignis, in awe of his bold and bashful request, before nodding in agreement.

“Fine. But I’m no good…”

After you eventually finish singing Ignis’ requested song, he pulls your onto his lap and holds you in a gently embrace, leaning his slightly stubbled cheek against your smooth one. He smiles against your skin and peppers quick kisses on your cheek before murmuring in a low tone: “thank you- everything you do is wonderful… your voice is beautiful and I am truly blessed to be considered yours.”

Natasha is Young: Costuming Denée Benton in “The Great Comet”

I had a special request in the Ask box for another entry in my The Great Comet series, and I am happy to oblige. This time, I’m turning my attention to something I’m typically more comfortable reviewing, namely women’s costuming. Having covered the male lead last time, I want to take a look at the costumes of Denée Benton this time, because they really show off Paloma Young’s skills as a costumer. I’ve picked a couple of Natasha’s (Ms Benton) outfits from The Great Comet to focus on, but I really do think you should check out all the costumes from this production; it’s definitely one of the most sumptuous musicals currently running on Broadway.

I’ve talked a lot about theming in costuming, and this is a good place to reiterate those points. Costume designers use color to make a statement, and this production is no exception. Costuming the character of Natasha in white for virtually the whole of the musical imbues the character with a kind of purity that none of the other characters possess to the same degree (with the possible exception of Sonya…but then again, “Sonya is good”). I think that’s important in the context of the musical, but there’s another reason that I think the white coloring of Natasha’s costumes is so important, and it goes to the heart of what makes The Great Comet such a unique theatrical experience: the staging and lighting.

Anyone who has seen the staging for The Great Comet knows that it is an interactive performance, one where the audience is very much brought into the heart of the action. As a result, the lighting design is more complicated than in your average production. That means your costumes need to be able to catch the light, and it makes the detail work you put into a costume all the more important. After all, members of the audience will be seeing the actress and character from every angle, as opposed to just a handful. Let’s take a look first at The Coat that is featured prominently in many of the promotional images and in the musical itself:

I want to start off by saying how in love I am with this coat. It’s regal and rich, and it hangs beautifully on Ms Benton (I haven’t had the chance to view anything from the understudies, so I’m focusing on the actress who originated the role). This is a posed shot, but it gives us a view of just how gorgeous this piece is. As I mentioned in my 9 to 5 review, outerwear is not something that is commonly featured on Broadway, and so costumers tend to take their cues more from history or current trends rather than other productions. But Paloma Young has come up with something beautiful and original here.

It’s floor-length, which has the effect of adding to Ms Benton’s height (something costumes can do, as I have noted in other reviews) and giving her more of a stage presence. The white is almost creamy in color in every photo I have seen, which is a good choice, I believe; pure, stark white can look artificial to the eye when it is overused, and a formal coat like this in the era (remember we are dealing with the 1810s) would almost certainly not have been in pure white. But this comes close, and onstage, it has the effect of being almost blindingly brilliant–which has to be intentional. Take a look at this shot where Ms Benton is lit from behind; the coat almost seems to glow as it catches the light, but you can still see the creaminess of the color where there is shadow:

Just take a moment to drink that in. Part of it is the effect of the spotlight, but it is not easy to get this kind of effect in a stage production, and Ms Young deserves a huge amount of credit for her fabric choice and the cuts of the cloth here. There’s an angelic feel here that gives me all the good feelings, and it really forces you to pay attention.

Onto the details of the coat itself! As can be seen in the first still, the coat is relatively simple in design, but that adds to its elegance in my book. Floor-length, it closes through the addition of four silver buttons on the bust and chest, which manage to stand out without being distracting. Ms Young has added a false belt around the high waist, using gold embroidery to add a splash of color to the cream of the coat itself. The embroidery takes the form of gold roping, which I think ties it nicely to Pierre’s waistcoat, which was the subject of my first Great Comet review. It flows nicely while still being a tiny bit abstract, and I think helps to make the coat more impressive.

The collar and cuffs of the coat match (which is important, I think, when one wants a classical look) through the addition of white fur. That’s a nice hat-tip to Russian styling of the Romanov era (1613-1918), which often emphasizes fur elements both for functionality and for design. Earlier on, functionality would have been more important–a Russian winter is brutally cold and fur is naturally warming–before eventually giving way to being a design element; given the setting of The Great Comet, I think it’s fair to say we’re more into the design era. 

What I like about the addition of the fur is that it adds another texture to the coat itself; while not apparent in the stills here, under magnification the coat is a rough, almost leathery fabric that would help to keep the wearer warm while still looking elegant and graceful to an outside observer, as it does to the audience in this production, whether in the orchestra or onstage in the special seating. Texture is important, I think, even when it isn’t directly observed, because the eye is capable of picking up tiny, minute details even without us being conscious of it. It’s apparent that this isn’t a completely smooth fabric, but the addition of the fur adds a softness to the coat that it might otherwise lack.

The other amazing costume that is worn by Ms Denton in her role as Natasha is the White Dress. I think when most people hear that there is a ball scene in this musical, they conjure up images of voluminous dresses with yards of silks and chiffons, but I think that’s because most of us have been spoiled by Victorian or 18th century costume dramas rather than those set in the era of The Great Comet. Regency-era attire, both in the West and in Russia, was a little bit more simple. Crinolines (the wooden or wire skeleton of a ball gown) had yet to come into fashion in Russia as they had (to some extent) in France, and instead, a lot of emphasis was given to relatively straight cuts of fabric. The idea was that a woman’s figure could be hinted at, but not excessively revealed, leaving a slight air of mystery that would change over time.

Taking a look at the White Dress, the 1810s fashion leaps right out:

The dress is a patterned white fabric, where the pattern is a series of circular elements that are a part of the dress rather than being adornments added later on. There is a very high waist, which is a classic hallmark of this era of fashion in both the West and in Russia, and the bust and chest are richly adorned with detail work I’ll take a look at in a moment. 

But look at the overall effect of the dress first. The fabric flows down to floor-length, is capable of floating when Ms Benton is in motion (as this shot shows), and has a regal look without being too imposing or intimidating. Compare that to, say, some of the dresses that Helene wears in the production, and the effect is even more important. Natasha is evolving slowly throughout this musical, and the dress is a point of transition. She’s allowing herself to be absolutely gorgeous in the context of a grand ball, and the dress is made to show off her ability to revel in the moment.

The overall effect is only enhanced by taking a closer look at some of the detail from the top portion of the dress. Here, we see Natasha being aided in getting ready by the aforementioned Helene (who may very well be the subject of her own review in this series), offering us not only a view of the detail but a chance for a little bit of compare-and-contrast:

First off, wow. I know I have a tendency to gush over design elements that I find attractive, but I can absolutely see why the Anon who asked about reviewing this dress cited it as their favorite-ever piece of costuming. The white, patterned fabric gives way to a saltire (an x-shaped) of fringed beadwork that sticks out from the dress and really gives it an effect that pops. It would have been easy to go over the top here, but in my opinion, Ms Young struck the perfect balance of small, delicate beadwork attached to the dress, and the pattern she chose for it adds a bit of a whimsical look to the dress that I don’t think we would see with a more flat or one-dimensional strand of beads.

But the beadwork, while impressive, is not my favorite feature of this dress–it’s the lacework! Take a look more closely at Ms Denton’s chest and shoulders. There is some really beautiful, delicate, elaborate lacework that has been added to take the dress from amazing to spectacular. Lace is very difficult to work with, and even more difficult to incorporate into a costume because it is by nature delicate. One wrong move, and it will just absolutely shred. Using it in this dress was a little risky, given the intense movement that goes on throughout this production, but in my considered opinion, it’s a risk that absolutely paid off. The addition of the lace really takes this dress to another level, and even without the other costumes in this production, Ms Young’s nomination for a Tony was well-deserved (and, again, there is a very good case for a win there).

I’ve had a chance now to look at a few of Paloma Young’s designs, and I am absolutely in love with them. Being able to look in depth at a few of her designs both in The Great Comet and Bandstand, I am a real admirer of how she uses fabrics and cuts to tell a story. The story I see here, in both the coat and the White Dress, is one of evolution. This young, innocent character is finally starting to come into her own as a result of the events in the musical, and her costuming reflects that. There is an innocence and purity to the dress, yes, but there are also design elements that hint to the audience that change is coming for Natasha. The country girl has gone city, and with that she’s starting to become someone else–someone, perhaps, she was always meant to be. That’s not an easy effect to have through costuming, and it’s one that I think deserves to be appreciated and admired.

Once again, thank you to Paloma Young for these visually stunning and meaningful costumes!


That wraps up today’s review of Natasha’s costumes in The Great Comet. Given the reception the last piece got, I’ll mix a couple more reviews of Paloma Young’s designs into my rota for the blog, with Helene and Anatole both high on my list as deserving some analysis.

As always, dear readers, if you have thoughts, comments, or feedback, please do not hesitate to drop me an Ask or send me a message on here or my main blog. Stay tuned for more from the beautiful world of Broadway costumes!

THINGS TO REMEMBER WHEN PORTRAYING A LATINX

All right, so lately I’ve noticed a lot of confusion over the portrayal of Latinx and Hispanics in roleplays/bios. This includes questions such as who counts as Latinx, Hispanic and whether or not they qualify as POC. Well, as a Latina myself, I figured that maybe I could help some of you understand. Hopefully this “guide” (it’s not really a guide) will do just that and take away some confusion.

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@zahnie i am kind of mad tbh bc now i keep thinking about that leverage/batman crossover and it’s ridiculous. they’re using a charity gala as a way to get into the manor. eliot immediately pegs alfred for former mi6, but he can’t figure out what the fuck bruce’s deal is. something about the way he stands or the way he watches the room or his shoulders or something. “is it not distinctive enough?” “oh, it’s distinctive as hell, i just don’t know what it is”. let’s say it’s older bruce so hardison has to get into a hacker fight with tim. sophie can’t grift bc there are too many rich people who’d recognize her in attendance. parker can’t infiltrate the catering service because they run that shit tighter than the white house (WHY is he so paranoid about his CATERERS what the HELL i’ve seen BANKS less lax about tracking employees than this) so she has to pretend to be a model. that backfires so fast because bruce is so nice and wants to know if she’s okay bc she seems uncomfortable. parker is thrilled when she discovers the house is full of secret passages but that also ends poorly when she turns a corner and bruce is standing there like “hey there, you seem lost”. he’s still wearing the tux and drinking his champagne. he helpfully guides her to the bathroom since she is having such trouble finding it. eliot has a tense standoff with alfred bc this is wayne manor alfred and that means he is like an older, british eliot who’ll shoot a motherfucker. hardison and tim get distracted playing wow together and it isn’t clear exactly how that happened. there has to be at least one scene where eliot and bruce are fighting and the rest of the team just watches instead of doing anything useful because it’s actually kind of really hot. they don’t even really hurt each other so it’s fine. probably fine. just let them keep pinning each other to the floor for a while, it’s fine. bruce has a lot of helpful critiques for nate’s plan that nate does not appreciate. the obvious thing is that they figure out he’s batman but it’s kind of funnier if they don’t and just think bruce wayne is an inexplicable bamf. they’ve all learned a valuable lesson about judging people based on appearances. bruce flirts with sophie and nate pretends not to be bitter about it but he gazes out at the gotham skyline and broods. it’s just what happens when you’re in gotham. it’s a very broodworthy skyline. make fun of batman all you want but you look out at that skyline and try not to brood. you can’t. even superman broods. i mean, he looks like he’s brooding. he’s usually trying to remember if he left the oven on because every time he decides to make himself a nice dinner a supervillain attacks and four hours later his baked ziti is charcoal. it still counts as brooding. nate never stood a chance.

Housemates! NCT Part 12

Your university runs out of dorm space, forcing you to find a last minute living arrangement with some international students. In other words, you’re basically screwed.

Warnings: alcohol, drugs, sex, profanity

Word Count: 1564

Guys…I was an emotional wreck writing this. Yay for early updates tho!

@fruitlatte HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Housemates!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 13

Also check out my College! thing too to help you tide yourselves over as i’m a shit head :)

I’ll also be updating with a College!Yuta soon!

College!

Jaehyun | Ten


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