screw what people think

In honor of me “ending” the blog, here’s a picture of me. Now you have a face for some of my words.

Be kind and stay safe everyone! I’m still going to check my inbox every now and then! I’ve linked my other blogs, food’s in the fridge, have fun, kids!

things we carry inside us // (1)

we all carry these things inside of us, that no one else can see. they weigh us down like anchors. they drown us out at sea
Warnings: mention of scars.
A/N: i promise things will start getting better soon with this haha. title & summary from BMTH’s Chelsea Smile.
Returning home after my first day of college, all I want is to shower, change into my pyjama’s, and get straight into bed. As soon as I open the door and Drake’s raps hit me I know it probably won’t be happening.

My three room-mates are in various states of undress; Betty is wearing a flowing, floral blouse and a black a-line skirt, frowning as she smooths down the clingy fabric. Veronica is dancing around the living room, clad only in a pair of sheer black tights and a lacy bra, hair pinned up and half-curled. Cheryl’s head pops out from around her bedroom door when she hears me coming in. Her eyes are dusted with dark browns, lips coated in her signature Maple Red lippie, and she squeals in excitement as I walk down the hall.

‘Storm! You’re here!’

Dropping my backpack with a thunk, I lean against the doorframe of her room. Glancing in, I see a red dress laid out on her bedspread, a pair of silver heels waiting by the floor-length mirror, and a faux-fur shrug draped beside the dress. ‘We are all going to our first college party!’ She informs me gleefully.


Cheryl hits me with that Blossom stare - fierce and unrelenting. I feel my resistance falling away as Betty sidles up behind me. 'Guys?’ Her voice is uncertain. 'I don’t think I have anything nice to wear.’

Cheryl’s eyes nearly pop out in horror; before she has the chance to make a cutting remark, I take the blonde by the wrist and pull her further down the hall. 'You can borrow something of mine.’

Relief washes over her face. 'Really? Are you sure?’ Smiling, I enter my own room, opening the wardrobe and scanning the scant contents. Most of my stuff is still in boxes, some half-open and items scattered all across the floor. I run my hand over the clothes rail, selecting a pale pink skater dress and holding it out to Betty. She holds it up against herself. 'It’s a bit… short?’

I shrug. 'If you’ve got it, flaunt it, Bets.’ She laughs at that, and retreats to her own room to change. Resisting the urge to rest for even a moment, I resign myself to finding something decent to wear. Nothing in the wardrobe stands out, so I root through a few of the boxes marked 'clothes’ until I come up with something casual but cute.

Betty reappears at the door, tugging at the hem. She’s trying to hide a smile, as she looks to me for an opinion. 'Gorgeous, girl,’ I tell her honestly, watching the blush spread across her face. 'You think?’

'I know,’ I correct her, grabbing my makeup bag and straighteners. 'Go see what the others say,’ I encourage, and she slips out again. I hear Veronica wolf-whistling, and grin. Betty has probably turned completely crimson - even after a mere day of knowing her, her crush on the sassy brunette is no secret to anyone, except to said sassy brunette.

Closing over my own door, I shrug out of my first day of college outfit - black leggings and an oversized maroon hoodie, black canvas runners, then pull my hair out of the messy top-knot I had it in. Before even attempting to wrangle my hair into a respectable 'do, I step into a pair of distressed shorts, pairing it with a light grey tee shirt with an alien printed on the right side. I hesitate - though the scars on my arm are pretty faded, they’re still just about visible. I’m not ashamed of them, but people tend to make assumptions about their origins - but, hey. Screw it. Let people think what they want to, right?

I debate between dressing up the casual outfit with a pair of heels or sticking to comfort with sneakers, then leave the decision to before we go.

Blonde strands with knots the size of fully-grown cats in are not fun to deal with- I yank out more hair than I brush every time the bristles pass through the thick waves. I’ve been growing it for about two years now - not that it was particularly short, but I haven’t had in cut in a long time - and it just about grazes the small of my back. I call out to Ronnie, asking her to braid it.

Waiting for her to come in, I start putting my face on. Swiping foundation on, then attempting to contour. Emphasis on attempt. When everything looks blended, I check myself out on the dresser mirror - I can’t see a difference, really. Moving on, I shade my eyes silver and black, blending and blending and blending until I’m satisfied with how it looks. My greatest enemy comes next - liquid eyeliner. It takes about ten minutes to get it evenly applied, little wings stretching out from the corner of my eyes. When that nerve-wracking exercise is finished, I put on a few coats of mascara and apply a nude lip, standing back to appraise myself.

Ronnie taps on the door - 'are you decent?’ I smirk at the mirror. 'Depends on your definition of decent.’ I tease back. She steps inside, twirling for me, showing off her little black dress. The top is tightly fitted while the bottom flares out; showing off her long, smooth legs. She winks at me and then climbs onto my bed, careful of the skirt of her dress, sitting cross-legged, patting the space in front of her. I toss the hairbrush to her and grab a handful of ties, leaving them in a pile by her knee. I sit at the edge of the bed, relaxing momentarily as her fingers run through my hair. It’s comforting; usually, physical contact makes me flinch, but this is nice. She hums along to Clean Bandit, playing from the living room, twisting my hair around itself with nimble movements.

'So, where are we actually going tonight?’

'Our friends have a house share a few blocks over - guys we knew in high school. They’re having their own freshers party.’ She pauses, looping some more hair over and under. 'You’ll like them,’ she tells me reassuringly.

I say nothing. She finishes the braid and pins it around my head in a crown - clapping her hands excitedly as she surveys her work. 'Beautiful!’
I look in the mirror again; a stranger’s reflection staring back at me. My skin is still tanned from travelling, my hair lighter from all the sun. With the make-up, I even look a little older, and Veronica’s braid sets the whole ensemble off perfectly. I thank her quietly, and stand up to toe on a fresh pair of pristine white Vans. I’d meant to wear them today, but changed my mind last second, choosing an old battered pair of black sneakers that were a little bit comforting - old and familiar. Tonight, though, it is out with the old and in with the new. No more hanging on to fragments of the past - except for maybe one. Finding my jewellery box, I dig out a long silver chain. The charm on it is simple, a half-tied knot, a symbol and a promise. Swallowing hard, I manage to tie it around my neck, surprised to find myself smiling as I look down at it. Maybe I don’t have to let go of everything.

Two years ago I finally worked up the courage to break gender norms and wear a tie. Holy shit it changed my life. Like that confidence change has been a total 180. I can’t look at “old becky” anymore. They were so unhappy and unhealthy but now I’m learning to love myself. Screw what other people think and the slurs that get thrown at me. I’m happy in how I look finally. Take me for my unapologetic nonbinary self or I don’t need you in my life


11x08 “Just My Imagination”
“Pretend friend. You’re not even real…”

Not going to lie. I teared up during this scene, because damn, I think Nate Torrence (I hope we see him again on the show, because I really really liked him and his character) did a pretty amazing job at delivering the sadness, hurt and worry when he realizes that Sam no longer needs him. And the thing is, Sully imo worked as a Dean mirror the entire episode - even if I may be the only one thinking that way. To me this was basically the turnaround scene to however the scene when Sam decided to go to Stanford must have looked.

While here Sully was trying to support Sam to go off on his own without the hunting life, Sam “rejects” or rather leaves Sully behind to be with his family and choosing hunting and his family over school. I wonder if a few years later Sam remembered this exact moment when he sent off the application letters for college and ultimately when he walked out the door and left his brother behind, who may have felt and looked just as devastated as Sully looks here.

“I don’t need you anymore”, that’s most probably the one catch phrase Dean fears more than anything else to this day. In a way that’s the problem in a nutshell. Sam growing up to Dean meant if he’s not needed, he’s not loved, he’s not worth anything, it’s failing. And well, there you have it again. Dean and Sully having something in common. Aside from the haircut, the love for candy and the “looking out for Sam”. I actually think Dean was so harsh on Sully to a good extent, because he recognized parts of himself in Sully, but saw Sully as the better version of himself who was there for people, was there fore Sam when he wasn’t. Whereas he knows that Sully “doesn’t have a monstrous bone in his body”, he thinks of himself of the opposite - after all it was the jawbone of an animal that turned him into a monster and had him almost kill Sam…

So yes, to me Sully and Dean were mirror characters. That’s not to say they still are also very different people, yet I feel there are more things connecting them than setting them apart. Most of all quite possibly to me the biggest parallel between them is that they both are kids at heart, Peter Pans, so to say.


my culture isn’t your accessory. @ white girls who think that they can pick and choose parts of my culture that are “indie” to accept and make fun of the rest. at one point in my life I had to lie about where my parents were from just to fit in with the rest of the girls at school. as years went by I’ve learned to acknowledge and embrace my roots because screw what other people think. this is me. and I’m proud. 

anonymous asked:

the thing is that most of people dont see beauty in themselves. others do see it, believe me. actually, who cares about ur look? do u think that someone will love u only because u r pretty? thats some shitty love, girl. u have to love someone's personality. the way they are. thats love which counts. and u know what? screw other people. think about urself. u live ur life, not others. its worth living. u've got one life, u have to live it ur way. but please dont hurt urself that much. - ace anon

Today I asked some friends if I could come over because I needed to get away from home. I asked 13 people, and only one replied/had time for me. It just plain hurts. Do I even have friends?
I know I care too much but I can’t help it, I depend on other people, I need someone to survive and I have no one at the moment. Not even myself because I don’t trust myself.


So….this is really me.

Well, who I want to be.

So I know I don’t look amazing in this photo -it’s very warm in my apartment right now, and really, I just feel like talking.

Normally I don’t want to talk about my life, But lately I’ve been coming out to people, so whatever. My closest friends know. My mom knows. My brother and his wife know. My dad does not…scared to tell him. And frankly, if you randomly are looking find this photo and want to give me a hard time, what are you looking for?

Sorry if there is too much nose. Maybe one day I’ll fix that. Also I really need to learn eye-makeup… terrible. Plus, I had bad acne growing up. I’m never going to look flawless….and I don’t have a brush -so my hair is a mess. (I think finding a new brush is the easiest part…I used to have long hair, threw them out though when I lost my hai….puppy…yes…puppy. Real hair.)

I’m not posting this picture for anyone other than myself.

I’ve been having a lot of dysphoria and anxiety lately. Can’t sleep. Can’t eat. On the positive side I am trying to lose some weight. I will not claim to know what every trans-girl goes through. I know what I want. This is just my experience. When I take everything off I hate myself because it’s not who I am. Maybe I’m just an mannish looking dude in panties. That’s not who I am in my mind. So, I’ll go with my opinion.  I am always looking for help. If you live in Toronto and would like to help I might be up for it. (Totally need a shopping friend)

I’ve been on a stress leave from work for a couple weeks. It’s given me lots of time to be myself. I’m so happy for that. Has my stress gone down? No.

I have two great friends who have been amazing. You know who you are.

I went to the MAC store downtown and (I thought I was brave) got a makeover in the busiest mall in Canada a few days ago. They helped, but I need so much practice. I was “brave” on a couple other things that day. I was happy that day.

(Sidenote -Absolutely NO judgement at MAC - it was fantastic. I felt really safe).

Fuck eye-makeup. I’m just buying a cool pair of sunglasses and we’ll be done with it all.

My life has been messed up trying to hide all these years. It’s going to be messed up for a while. Great job I think I won’t be able to handle much longer. Constant anxiety. Being too tall for…sigh…heels… But this is the path I want to take. It’s the road to being happy for me. Screw what other people think. I’ll make new friends. I’ll make new family. (I’ll probably be sad in two days, but my emotions are confident right now).

Thank you for reading. If this helps in anyway (I doubt it will) please let me know, and maybe we can talk.

Thanks for reading. Thanks for following.


Request: Us Against The World

Request: can you do an imagine where the reader has no friends exept for lucifer And one day she ends up crying because people are always mean to her and lucifer tells her that she doesn’t need anyone because she has him and its like “us against the world”?:)

Word Count: 546

Here it is! I hope you like it!:)

You don’t say hello to anyone. You race up the stairs, trying to stop anyone seeing the tears. You drop your bag to the floor and collapse onto the bed, trying to block the hateful comments that everyone seems to make.

Useless. Pathetic. Pointless. Stupid. Worthless.

You sob into the pillow. Only having the most hated person in the universe as a friend has its perks, sure, but everyone else hates you. You don’t know why.

“Y/N? What’s up?” You hear a voice from the corner of your roomr. You straighten, pressing your back against a wall. “One of my demons said- oh.” He’s instantly at your side, sat on the bed. He wraps you up in his arms, “What’s wrong? Who do I have to smite?”

“No-one. Lucifer, why does everyone hate me?” You whisper. He stares at you.

“Oh, Y/N. No-one hates you.” He says fervently, “I like you. You’re my best friend, remember?”

“You’re my only friend. Everyone else hates me.”

“Hey, sunshine. Join the club, okay?” He says sympathetically, “I know just how you feel. But it doesn’t matter!”

“Of course it matters! You can’t always be there!” You say, wiping tears from your cheeks.

“There’s always a demon on hand. You know that.”

It’s true. He’s kept a demon nearby for protection since an angel tried to torture you for his whereabouts.

“A demon isn’t you.”

“The demons like you. They say you’re intelligent and witty.” He comments, and you laugh. “See. Anyway, you don’t need anyone else. You have me!”

You laugh, “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“Damn right, you are!” He says, pulling away from you, “Look at me.”

He takes your chin between his chin and forefinger, “See, it’s you and me. You and me against the world.”

You nod and smile, “You and me. I like that.”

“You want to hear a story?” He asks, and you nod. He always has such interesting stories.

“I’d love to.”

“So, you know the start of this one. Cast out of heaven, chucked into Hell, et cetera.” He says, and you nod. “So, maybe a thousand years ago, I’m downstairs, locked in this bloody cage, and I get some news. It travels pretty quick down there, you know?”

He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, “So I get this news. Demons know stuff about people about to be born and die and crap, so I get news about someone who’s going to die. And I tell them, ‘Don’t let them die. Whatever you do.’ So they did what I said. And you know what?”

“What?” You ask interestedly.

“That guy went on to have a baby boy. Well, his wife did. That boy married a village girl. They only had one surviving child, a girl. Who married, as you do, had a little girl herself, and so on. And you know who that lineage produced?”


“You. You’re the product of a ton of brilliant people, so I’ve heard. So when I escaped, I had to come and find you. And it was worth all of that effort and more, because you’re amazing. So screw what those people say. Screw what they think, because they don’t know how incredible you are. They don’t have a single clue.”

hero; part two | jeon jungkook

Originally posted by jengkook

requested by anon

word count: rip me

genre: idek is that bad?

When Prince Jungkook comes for his first visit after many years, things have changed, especially your feelings.

Part One; Part Two; Part Three

Prince Jungkook had been staying there for a few days now, and while you talked to him more then his first visit, it was still not enough for you. He had grown to be a charming young man, and you wanted to talk to him more, and find out more about his kingdom, his mother, anything. He could have spoken to for hours on end on anything, and you would have listened. If you had known better, you would have realized that you were developing a bit of a crush on the prince, but after growing up with only Kahi, your mother often absent, you did not know much about matters of the heart.

You were currently on your way to the library, by yourself; as Jimin had stolen Kahi from you for the afternoon then disappeared, and Taehyung was somewhere, but not even you were sure where. Upon entering the room, which was usually deserted, you flung yourself onto the nearest comfortable chair. “Where the hell is everyone today?”

Keep reading

Awake (Leopika Hurt/Comfort)

This is a continuation of Sleep, Baby, Sleep. Read that first for this to make sense. I delve more into my headcanons for Kurapika’s gender identity here; suffice to say, cis doesn’t enter into the picture.
Warning: starts out with a scene of grisly death. Accompanying awful art work for said scene HERE.

Keep reading

Praise Allah, eat healthy, don’t eat too much, exercise, drink water, read a portion of the qur'aan daily, spray perfume before praying, don’t forget your athkaar, look at those who have it worse than you in the dunya, play with children, count your blessings, make duaa, know that Allah does not burden a soul with more than it can handle, screw what people think of you, breath in, breath out, it’s nothing but the dunya. 


I wouldn’t be upset about what people think of me. That’s rule number one of surviving in this industry: don’t care what people think. Just be true to yourself and be as pleasant and professional as you can. If you start caring what people think, you’re screwed.