perfectonism

2

Milo Yiannopoulos mocked a transgender student — and her response is perfect

  • On Tuesday, alt-right provocateur Milo Yiannopoulos brought his white nationalist schtick to the University of Wisconsin - Milwaukee. 
  • The talk was titled “Master Baiters: The Liberals Keeping America’s Race War Alive,” and Yiannopoulos diverted from discussions of race to mock and misgender transgender student Adelaide Kramer. 
  • Kramer was sitting in the crowd during the event, which was open to the public.
  • University chancellor Mark Mone sent an email to students after the appearance, in which he condemned Yiannopoulos’ words but upheld his right to say them. 
  • She responded to the chancellor’s statement with a long email, which opened “GO FUCK YOURSELF,” and copied around 400 other people on the email. Read more.

sorry mom I don’t have a social life

shut the fuck up!

she can fuck you good but I can fuck you better

god loves you but I don’t

who’s gonna be the first to say goodbye?

my heart says yes but my mom says no

love is louder than the pressure to be perfect

one love, two mouths, one love, one house

the promises we made were not enough

three word story: pain changes people

everytime you smile at me I fall in love over and over again

but if you loved me, why did you leave me?

stop being cute or come being cute in my bed

nobody dies as a virgin life fuck us all and I can fuck you too

dont touch me, I’m famous


SÍMBOLOS


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youtube

2nd Row - Perfect

One Direction

On The Road Again - Newcastle- 27/10/15

More can be found at my YouTube channel (more also coming soon!)

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCmeZQ8YttcIQ7UwY_PDH-ew

Is it Perfect?-A Harry Styles Imagine

Not requested, but suggested lol :)

               Article: Perfect isn’t so Perfect

One Direction’s latest, dropped single Perfect isn’t quite as AMAZING as one would imagine it would be…

The article was typed and re-drafted to sound just the way you had wanted it to. Your line of work made you be as honest as possible when it came to writing reviews on the latest, released music. You were a semi-fan of One Direction, taking to a lot of their hits, but this one song in particular just didn’t appeal to you. So you wrote how you felt on it and sent it out for the world to read.


It had only been a few hours since the review had been out and already you were being harassed by the One Direction fans. It wasn’t something you weren’t used to, but a lot of the comments were some that made your insides turn, though you didn’t let it get to you too much.

You were sat behind your desk, writing another review that was due to go out in a few hours. The song you were writing was on repeat, blasting through your office. You had asked for the receptionist to not disturb you while you wrote, a request you made multiple times a day. You had a fresh, steaming, hot cup of coffee sitting on your desk next to your notebook, which was wide open. You were hitting the pencil, which you had in your hand, against the desk.

A hum came from your lips as the music became to get trapped in your head, if you had penny for every song that you went home singing every day, you would be rich.


As you worked on finishing the draft to your latest review, you heard the intercom come on, an indication that the receptionist was on the other end, but she wasn’t saying any. There was, however, the slight sound of two people talking in a rushed tone before the connection ended. You sat in your chair, confused as to what was happening. But then your door was thrown open.

“You can’t just go in there,” your receptionist said behind the figure at the door. The dark room you were in only showed a tall silhouette that was outlined by the hall light, the small girl standing behind the figure pushed through and turned on the light.

“Are you Y/N Y/L/N?” a deep, rasped voice asked as you adjusted to the light.

“I am,” you responded, seeing Harry Styles clearly as you focused. “You’re Harry Styles.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, he just barged in,” Callie, the receptionist said with a scowl on her face as she faced the popstar.

“I want to talk to you about the review you did on my band’s new song,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you.


He had sat across from you, making you review the song over and over. Your opinion still not changing from its previous position. You had sent Callie away, inviting Styles to sit and make himself comfortable while the two of you talked. He tried to sway you, singing his parts of the song, making you aware of how amazing his voice was in the flesh.

You continuously stared at him for almost an hour, admiring the view that was in front of you.

“So?” he asked after the song had stopped for the millionth time.

“I still don’t think it’s amazing,” you said, sitting back in your chair.

“Well you don’t have a good taste in music.” He sat back in his seat with a smug look, chopping on the gum that was held in his mouth.

“Excuse me?” you asked, resting your hands on your desk and pushing yourself up. He stared at you with a smirk, chuckling at the reaction he had just gotten. “My job is based around music, I know good music. Sorry your newest song just doesn’t make the cut,” you sneered, rounding your desk.

He got up on his feet, his facial features changing as the last sentence left your lips. You were standing right in front of him, a mere foot between both of your chest. You had to lift your head up to look straight into his eyes.

“I don’t get why,” he commented, stopping for a second. “Why don’t you like it?”

You shuttered, feeling him take a mild step closer, making your chest touch and your breathing hitch. He looked down at you, a deep look etched on his face. There was something there, something that was pulling the two of you to the other. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes at his hard gaze.

As soon as your eyes close, you heard him draw a breath before a warm hand was placed against your cheek. In a quick second, your eyes were open, but made shut just as his lips came down hard against yours. Your hands went from their resting position to reverently pulling at the grown hair on his head. While his free hand was pulling your waist, making your body collide against his.

“What can I do convince you it’s perfect?” he asked, mumbling against your lips. He didn’t give you time before his was pushing his lips back against yours, deepening the kiss.

Swift movements were made as he lifted you onto your desk, working on taking your top off as you continued to kiss and suck at his neck. His hands moved to grip you skin, hands racing up your sides as you threw your head back as he admired you. Soon he was paying attention to your chest, moving the cups of your bra down. Everything happened so fast.

It didn’t take long before the both of you were completely undressed, still just touching and kissing, nothing going further quite yet. The song was still blasting in the background, his voice still humming along to the words. Easily, the song was starting to appeal to you as he touched you.

His hand went down your body, reaching between your thighs as he started to circle your clit. A soft moan emitted from your lips as he continued his actions, kissing at your collarbone as you held onto him. He whispered in your ear, words you didn’t think he was quite capable of whispering, especially the way he came off to the public.

It was soon enough that you were begging him for more, moving your hand to take him in it. You pumped him gently, earning a thrust of his hips and a deep groan as a reaction. He had gotten worked up to the point where he was pulling his hand from you and pushing your back against your desk in a quick motion. As soon as you were laid back, his hands were gripping your thighs, pulling you towards the edge.

“I hope you can reconsider your opinion,” he spoke. Again, before he gave you a chance to respond, he was aligning himself at your entrance, pushing in as quickly as he could. The feeling of him consuming you made your heart stop beating, but only for a second.

Your bodies rocked together, him going harder and quicker on request. You were both a panting mess as you worked each other up. Your hands skimmed his body as he held onto your, tightly, deepening his thrusts every so often. His hands went down to where your bodies met, giving your more pleasure as the both of you tipped your way to the top. You both had seemed to go deaf, losing yourselves in each other.

It didn’t take long before you were coming, holding onto him tight as he pushed his way over the edge. His body fell against yours, the musty air catching the both of you. Your breathing was coming out in pants, sweat dripping down the both of your bodies as you molded against each other.

You laid there, running your hands over his bare back and through his hair. The song ended, for the umpteenth time, making you run through the lines as it started again. It was quick to have become your favorite song.

“What do you think about it now?” he asked, lifting his head and meeting his eyes with yours.

“Perfect, kind of like you.”

A/N: I suck at smut and I probably rushed this… OH WELLLLL!

Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life and it is the main obstacle between you and a shitty first draft. I think perfectionism is based on the obsessive belief that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping-stone just right, you won’t have to die. The truth is that you will die anyway and that a lot of people who aren’t even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better than you, and have a lot more fun while they’re doing it.
—  Anne Lamott