“We started with one and now we have seven. You have no chill” - hunay
Hunk wiped his hands on the towel next to the sink. He had been in the middle of preparing dinner when he heard the door to their apartment open. “I’m in here!” He called into the hallway. Hunk put the towel down onto the counter and walked out of the kitchen. Yellow and Blue, two of the couple’s six cats meowed for his attention; He stopped to pet them and continued down the hallway.
When he received no answer, Hunk made his way into the living room. Turning the corner, Hunk was met with the sight of Shay with a wet bundle in her arms. It mewled pathetically.
“Oh no! Shay Not this again!”
“It rained all day! I couldn’t just leave him out there all alone!”
“Shay! We started with one and now we have seven. You have no chill!” Hunk sighed as Shay started to walk towards him.
She raised the kitten so it’s nose was almost pressed to Hunk’s. “How could you say no to a face like this?” Shay cooed; she could see that Hunk was losing his resolve. She smiled as Hunk sighed and reached for the little kitten.
“…..It is cute.” Hunk mumbled as he held the kitten up to his face to take a closer look. It was a scrawny little thing, mostly red with dirt crusted in it’s paws; it shivered in his hands. Hunk sighed again as he brought the kitten to his chest to try to warm it up. There was a reason the couple already had six cats; Hunk was a teddy bear at heart. There was no way he could ever say no to Shay, especially when she looked as earnest as she did right now.
“Fine, we can keep it.” Shay smiled. “But I swear! You need to stop bringing home every single stray you find.” Hunk shifted the kitten in his arms again as it let out another meow.
“Of course.” She leaned into his side and gave him a peck on the cheek.
“Now, c’mon.” He moved towards the kitchen where they kept the cat food. “Let’s get this little guy some food and water.”
Don’t be surprised if I call you out of the blue
Whether it’s at six at night or in the morning at two
Your voice is a craving I would die for
Nothing could make me want it even more
But I can’t pull you through telephone wires
And you can’t come to me by tires
So I will listen to you through horrible reception
That’s the closest way to get to your voices perfection
I speak out for little one year old me who was associated with pink long before I could even express that my favorite color is in fact blue.
I speak out for little six year old me who was conditioned into believing that boys like cars and girls like barbies.
I speak out for little twelve year old me who had her period and thought she was so disgusting and dirty because that’s what society taught me to think about my body; it stayed with me.
I speak out for little fifteen year old me who killed herself over this delusional idea of beauty that was pushed down my throat ever since I could understand advertisements; diet this, diet that, yeah well how about we all learn to love ourselves and stop looking at our bodies like a project and start looking at it like the piece of art that it is?
I speak out for little sixteen year old me who was told to start playing “like a boy” if I ever wanted to pass my class.
I speak out for little seventeen year old me who was referred to a baby machine; brought to this world to do nothing more but reproduce, without considering my goals, dreams and mental state. As if women are only important to carry children as men are encouraged to make a living for themselves.
I also speak out for eighteen, ninteen and heck, eighty year old me; married or not, children or not, no matter your weight, I hope things got better for you and all the others like you who were suppressed and shut down for being born: a girl.
LESSON LEARNED: If you take a Valkyrie out for coffee, you’ll get stuck with the check and a dead body.
I hadn’t seen Samirah al-Abbas in almost six weeks, so when she called out of the blue and said we needed to talk about a matter of life and death, I agreed right away.
(Technically I’m already dead, which means the whole life-and-deaththing didn’t apply, but still … Sam sounded anxious.)
She hadn’t yet arrived when I got to the Thinking Cup on Newbury Street. The place was packed as usual, so I queued up for coffee. A few seconds later, Sam flew in, literally, right over the heads of the café patrons.
Nobody batted an eye. Regular mortals aren’t good at processing magical stuff, which is fortunate, because otherwise Bostonians would spend most of their time running around in a panic from giants, trolls, ogres, and einherjar with battle axes and lattes.
So one of my favorite blogs, @underlineau has recently been doing some comics with the fallen children and their integrity child, Sela, is just adorable. I had to do a quick doodle of them (her?) with my own Integrity. Was originally hoping to do this digitally but my IPad’s on the fritz again so- traditional it is.
Yeah, I was a punk. I’m that old. I haven’t been to the Met yet and my invite to the Ball got lost in the mail, but I can tell from afar (& by the sight of poor Madonna in tartan hotpants) whatever opened at the Metropolitan Museum of Art today, it is not punk.
I know, I know, it’s punk to COUTURE. But that is a complete nonsense. The entire point of punk was: make it up as you go along–including clothes. It was found fashion. Ratty sweaters, workwear, 50s ski pants (or was that just me?), holes, zips, buckles, vintage, vintage and more vintage. This is no newsflash, everyone knows how punk was dressed. But what’s dispiriting is the soulless in-yer-face commercial glossyglam monetizing marketing blablabla around this show. The Anna-izing.
It could have been a call for a gently anarchic messing up of things but instead it’s: “this is how we made it safe,” endorsed by interchangeable famous people in $5000 black gowns. It claims to celebrate freedom, but it’s lily-livered obedience to the status quo. The opposite of punk. I guess you never really grow out of it. –Kate Sekules
Six years ago today Troye Sivan came out to his dad and his family. I’m so proud of what he has become since then, inspiring young people, like myself to accept yourself and be proud of who you are. He’s a popular artist who is gay and spreading awareness about important topics such as homophobia, gay rights, abuse, suicide, and so much more. Troye I couldn’t be more proud of you keep up the amazing work. @troyesivan ❤️💛💚💙💜
Pennsylvania has gone blue in six out of the last nine elections, mainly because of urban hubs like Pittsburgh and Philadelphia, but there’s one county that has gone blue in every election since 1985, Erie. So what makes Erie swing blue when it’s surrounded by red counties, a big ass lake, and Canada? Erie is home to one of Pennsylvania's oldest LGBTQ communities.