Song: “Can You Hear Me?” Artist: Amber Mark Scene: Meredith practrices different versions of her speech to Maggie about her and Nathan being together while discussing the possible fall out with Alex from the house to dressing for press conference. ——— Song: “Already All Ready” Artist: La’Porsha Renae Scene: Brody and Warren gather to look on as Webber, Edwards and DeLuca remove dozens of worms from Mary’s insides; April tries to use Mary and Dennis’ relationship problems to talk to Richard about his. ———– Song: “Boy like you” Artist:Weslee Scene:Veronica is taken into surgery where Jeremy stands by her side Arizona and Amelia deliver their son; Veronica holds the baby as he is born. ———– Song: “Angels” Artist: Khalid Scene:April emphasizes to Baily that she and Katherin are very much alike; Katherine and Richard walk by each other with a word or glance; Veronica gives Amelia a message for Jeremy then asks for her to hold her; Veronica dies. ———– Song: “Old Friends” Artist:Jasmine Thompson Scene:Katherine considers Bailey’s words; Amelia and Arizona watch Jeremy with the baby; Katherine extends an olive brench to Richard; Owen comforts Amelia; Mer convinces Maggie go out with her and Amelia.
I'm torn on how I feel about how Emily acted towards this student like a part of me liked that Emily wasn't running scared and was trying to defend herself but a part of me thinks Emily just a little bit was letting this get a little to personal with the way she was speaking to that student and that maybe just a little bit of what Emily was saying to this student frankly should have been directed at Alison not the student I love Emily but maybe she should have taken it down just a notch
I mean, the thing is, it’s an abuse of power. Emily literally used her position of power to intimidate and bully a 15/16 year old so it was super not okay. Even if that kid was the biggest brat on the face of the planet, a teacher speaking to a student – any student – that way, is not okay in any way and for me, it just showed me that the girls haven’t really ‘graduated’ yet.
I’ve heard that when you suffer trauma, you kind of just stop developing and I think this showed that, she acted like she was still in high school, not like she was an adult :/
Summary: What’s in a name? His mother had called him her little starboy for as long as he could remember. Sometimes Jellal wondered if the nickname was enough to part the clouds of his other names - the ones assigned to him at birth.
Important note: I’ve taken a lot of creative liberties with this one. If violence, sex, and drug use isn’t for you, probably skip it. I love mafia AU’s and I’m heavily influenced by the 1996 Baz Luhrman adaptation of Romeo and Juliet. The primary romantic pair is Jerza with other, plot demanding, pairs in the background.
How about male farmer and Leah doing some art piece together? (nsfw is ok)
They had a game. He would send her a sketch. It could be anything, even a scribble. But he did it every week without fail. He didn’t know what she was going to do with his scribbles on scratch paper, but she said she had a gift for him.
On the night of his birthday, Leah presented him with a binder. He raised an eye curiously, not sure what it was, but opening it anyway. His eyes went wide as he realized what it was.
Every page was one of his scribbles, but she had taken it and drawn magnificence. Some where pictures of the town, some were abstract, but they were all beautiful, and they all used his scribbles as a base.
“It’s beautiful,” he said, looking at her like she was one of the works of art. Leah smiled, and kissed his nose.
Except for the whole murder thing, Courtney James seemed like a lovely young woman. She was bright, articulate, a dedicated college student and well liked waitress at a popular restaurant.
I met her when she was sitting in an interrogation room at the precinct. She was a bit on the larger side, dressed conservatively in pastel colors and minimal makeup, and when I came in, she introduced herself with a polite smile, as if we were meeting for a job interview as opposed to a police investigation. She had declined to have an attorney present, so I got right to business.
This comic idea came to me when I thought that Genji would find troublesome walking in public again, not feeling like his old self anymore. They all struggled and tried to convince him to go out, but found himself one day taken downtown by Mercy, who needed an extra hand to help her with some grocery shopping. She used as excuse the fact that many of those at the base were either resting after missions, away in missions or just home, enjoying some free days. (everyone needs to relax once in a while XD) Genji always appreciated her care for him, how much time she always spent making sure he did his daily exercises during the recovery period (McCree also helped, and Gabe whenever he had time to spare), and of course the very fact that she made him “exist” again, so he couldn’t refuse her small wish, even if this meant going outside the base. (he was still fresh after recovery.. no missions or such things yet)
so like its canon that when padme’s handmaidens were in handmaiden bootcamp before she was coronated as queen (but presumably after she was elected) that padme snuck in and joined them? but like, what if she didnt sneak in? what if its like, The Thing for the queen-elect to join her handmaidens in handmaid bootcamp. like. what if.
amidala seems to be a reigning name taken by padme to conceal her true identity- we already know that the naboo are very fond of shit like that due to the handmaidens/decoys etc.
so like padme went into handmaid bootcamp as padme naberrie, and all the handmaidens were like, heyy padme! wanna join in on our betting pool as to which one of us is secretly the queen? padme bets its dorme, corde bets its teckla, teckla and dorme think its padme, yane bets on herself being the queen because shes a shithead and wants to fuck with everyone, and so on. idk where im going with this, but like. bootcamp shenanigans.
and then when padme is actually coronated and the bond between her and the handmaidens is so much stronger than just ruler and subordinates, which is what was supposed to happen, because the naboo are wily motherfucker- and in the end the queen of naboo is, and always has been, more than just one person.
Love Sick // Arctic Monkeys Songs for the Venus Signs
Did it for The 1975, now enjoy the Arctic Monkeys version! Taken from my favorite albums, “AM” and “Suck It and See.”
Aries venus: She’s Thunderstorms
I’ve been feeling foolish You should try it She came and substituted The peace and quiet For acrobatic blood.
Taurus venus: Fireside
There’s all those places we used to go And I suspect you already know But that place on memory lane you liked still looks the same But something about it’s changed.
Gemini venus: The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala
Just when things are getting complicated in the eye of the storm She flicks a red-hot revelation off the tip of her tongue It does a dozen somersaults and it leaves you supercharged Makes me wanna blow her candles out just to see if you glow in the dark.
Cancer venus:I Wanna Be Yours
If you like your coffee hot Let me be your coffee pot You call the shots babe I just wanna be yours.
Leo venus: Knee Socks
And you were sitting in the corner with the coats all piled high And I thought you might be mine In a small world on an exceptionally rainy Tuesday night In the right place and time.
Virgo venus: Love Is A Laserquest
Now I can’t think of air without thinking of you I doubt that comes as a surprise And I can’t think of anything to dream about I can’t find anywhere to hide.
Libra venus: No. 1 Party Anthem
She’s a certified mind blower knowing full well that I don’t I may suggest there’s somewhere from which I might know her Just to get the ball to roll Drunken monologues, confused because It’s not like I’m falling in love I just want you to do me no good.
Scorpio venus: Suck It and See
Your love is like a studded leather headlock Your kiss, it could put creases in the rain You’re rarer than a can of dandelion and burdock And those other girls are just Postmix lemonade.
Sagittarius venus: Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High?
Now it’s three in the morning, And I’m trying to change your mind, Left you multiple missed calls And to my message you reply. Why’d you only call me when you’re high?
Capricorn venus: Do I Wanna Know?
I dreamt about you nearly every night this week How many secrets can you keep? ‘Cause there’s this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow When I play it on repeat Until I fall asleep.
Aquarius venus: Reckless Serenade
Illuminations On a rainy day When she walks her footsteps sing A reckless serenade.
Pisces venus: Arabella
Arabella’s got a seventies head But she’s a modern lover It’s an exploration, she’s made of outer space And her lips are like the galaxy’s edge And her kiss the colour of a constellation falling into place.
Our Tiefling Bard is known for doing things unconventionally. Be it the reason we are in combat or the reason we got out. Be it teaching goblins the language of music. Be it tackling literally every big bad and SOMEHOW succeeding in pinning each one to the ground. Be it for stopping a Beholder in its tracks with a bottle of Gut-Buster tossed into its gaping maw.
She has a plan for everything, but we never really knew how far until recently.
So backstory: Our Bard and Cleric were honorary members of a guild that was known for being very lawful because they had saved one of its members from certain doom. But, in a heroic display of vigilantism with their other party members against a power-hungry lord our Bard had a personal vendetta against, they had ruined a sting operation set up by this guild that had been years in the making. Now they just had one night to take this lord down before he fled the city at a very public party for his son.
DM as Guild Leader: “I should strip the two of you of your titles for this. We were so close to exposing him for the cruelty he has inflicted on the people of this city but in ONE NIGHT YOU MANAGED TO RUIN ALL OF IT!”
Bard: “And how did we ruin anything? We cleared out that bastard’s group of ruffians and we even took some alive to confess!”
Guild Leader: “Ha! This is a lord we are talking about. He throws money at the guards and those confessions become desperate lies to avoid the gallows. And besides, by tomorrow he and his family will have left the town until this blows over.”
Cleric: “So we get him tonight.”
Guild Master: “Not possible. They are hosting a public party for his son tonight. Invitation only. Not only that, but your shenanigans today have likely doubled the guard.”
Ranger: “So what we need is stealth.”
Bard: “No… What we need are more shenanigans.”
The party goes back to the bakery in town our bard had purchased some time ago for extra coin. She had even taken points into the Cook profession to increase profits. Once there, she uses the Clothier’s Closet spell and creates some clothes from a diamond she had. One is a noble outfit for herself and the rest are cook’s outfits.
She and her workers manage to create a very large cake with a hollow middle. The ranger and cleric got inside the cake, dressed as cooks and holding the gear we would need. Our Bard posed as the boss and our Elven Dragon Shaman (Who had maxed out Intimidation) would be her assistant.
The plan would be our Bard would pose as the owner of a fledgling service that delivered dancing women in cakes hired by either the lord or by a friend of his son. Upon encountering the guard at the gate, she managed to play her part well, insisting that she accompany the cake inside so that “someone doesn’t take a fancy to these bimbos and I lose profits for nine months.” Miraculously, they make it inside and are left alone in a room.
Dragon Shaman: “I can’t believe that worked.”
Bard: “Why wouldn’t it? Best kind of stealth is going in like you are supposed to be there.”
The Bard changes into her Noble outfit to infiltrate the guests and the Ranger notices something.
Ranger: “Wait a minute. You made enough cook’s outfits for everyone.”
Bard: “I did.”
Ranger: “So then why did we have to pretend to be strippers inside a cake?!”
The Bard sighs and says: “Look. I did not just spend about 120 gold setting this up to NOT see two beautiful women emerge from a giant cake!”
DM: “You know what *Bard’s Name*? Go ahead and gain 100XP for this. All of this. Just… How long have you been planning this?”
things that wouldn't have been that hard to add to the movies
- “you can have me, keep me!” it’s just an extra line for Rupert, like just have him say it
- would have required like actors and props and such, but I would pay money to see Ginny’s singing valentine depicted in CoS, it would have only been like an extra five minutes of movie
- “you asked us a question and she knows the answer! why ask if you don’t want to be told?” and that way we could have seen that Ron is the type of kid who defends his friends (and doesn’t side with bullies!) and it would have only taken like 3 seconds
- wouldn’t it have been so much easier to have Voldemort just thud to the ground like he did in the book instead of dying of extreme dandruff to show that even after everything he was really just a man like everyone else?
- “she’s like my sister. I love her like a sister…” seriously just film Dan and Rupert talking in the forest it takes two extra minutes geeeez
- (yeah most of these are about Ron)
- like they could have had Rupert standing there with his besties at the end of HBP instead of sitting in the background like a chump
- I’m positive it’s less expensive to just not set the Burrow on fire at all
- “good luck Ron!” *smooch* oh wait, there was no Quidditch in that movie nvm
- couldn’t they have had James Potter say “until the very end” when they’re all in the forest? he says “until the end” and I just don’t understand IT’S ONE WORD
- at the end of GoF maybe Dumbledore, in giving his speech about Cedric, didn’t have to sit in his fancy chair like he was bored and inconvenienced by making said speech
- two seconds of Ron and Hermione dancing at the wedding. just put Rupert and Emma in one of those awkward teenagers-slow-dancing poses and film two seconds of it and so many people would be so happy
- toss a pair of glasses on Arthur Weasley for heavens sake
I’m not asking for much here honestly but this would have made such a difference to me
A quick question about the Gryles thing because I'm genuinely curious: I thought the point was that TPTB were so homophobic that they would go to ridiculous lengths to keep H/L closeted, so why would they be ok with Harry being thought to be in a relationship with an older man? Like, why would they literally plant stories about that but closet H/L so viciously that they literally haven't been seen together outside of work engagements for upwards of 5 years and Louis has to fake a baby?
No, it’s been over-simplified in the telling. They were catering to a presumed homophobic fanbase, their personal opinion about homosexuality is unknown except to the extent that they don’t believe it will “sell” to the target demographic.
But behind the scenes, in industry spaces where Harry & Louis were seen off camera, they both are easily read as gay and together. So what 1DHQ (Modest, Syco, Simon Jones PR) did to combat bts discussion of their relationship is create a diversion. Several diversions in fact.
And the #1 diversion early on is that they told people that work in the industry that Harry was with Nick. They also told people that would see Harry & Louis behaving like a couple that they broke up, hooked up, were on-and-off, casual flings, etc. Anything to make people doubt that they were in a current, monogamous relationship.
A good friend of mine had dinner with someone from BBC Radio One a few months ago and my friend was flat out told that Nick and Harry used to date. My friend, a major Larrie, was taken aback. Then she asked if the person had ever seen anything proving that, she was told no. Were there any detailed first hand reports of anything, kissing, hand-holding, intimate moments? Nope, none of that. Just chatter around the office.
That 100% backs up what @diggingandfluff was told about what people were told at industry events, that they all got different stories about Harry & Louis and the only way they found out the stories weren’t true is when they compared them and realized that it was inconsistent and didn’t add up.
So to my mind, that’s where the majority of the relentless Gryles shipping came from. People were told by industry sources that they were together. So, annoying as it is/was, it was a “reliable source.”
But when you look at all of the other stories, plus everything we’ve seen and heard since then, you realize that it was a coordinated campaign.
Yuri on Ice BD audio commentary translation - Volume 3
Translation of the audio commentary of the BD/DVD vol.3, by Mitsurou Kubo and Junichi Suwabe, voice actor of Victor Nikiforov. I really wanted to post this before the weekend because I’m not going to be home a lot, so I decided “well, I might just not sleep tonight and translate this instead”… This time there are some parts that I translated almost integrally. They talk a lot about Victor, especially Suwabe’s struggle to get into the role. It provides insight while at the same time not providing… since apparently it’s very hard to guess what is “right” when talking about Victor. I’m sure you will get what I mean if you read what they say…
The commentary is only for episode 6. Episode 5 has no commentary. It’s not a full translation but I summarized most of what they said, and as I wrote above some parts are almost completely translated. As in the previous ones, the format is different from normal interview translations, and you can find my comments too (mostly in brackets).
Translation under the post because it’s long. Enjoy!
Greetings people. I identify as a Black female who was born and raised in NYC. I am slowly progressing through my study of education and history in college. Other then that, I spend (probably) an unhealthy amount of time reading and writing sci fi and fantasy. But by high school, I got sick and tired of the same story featuring blonds and brunettes saving the day with their straight, lean male heroes so I turned to my librarian seeking something new. She pointed to Octavia Butler and the rest was history. I’ve been seeking diversity in media ever since.
Family life and Culture
I grew as the middle child of six siblings with my single mother and grandparents. Yes, my working-class household fits the stereotype. We even have an absent father *sighs* But, hey shit happens. And with the biological father turns out not to be the best father figure, shit had to go right out the door. Yup. But make no mistake that this is a norm. Most households on my block do have both parents involved in their children’s lives. Our circumstances called for us to have one. That’s all.
The house was full, loud and rambunctious. We made up a good portion of the children on the block (unsurprising) and basically ran it. There’s a whole novel that could be fleshed out of my childhood if I wanted to. Our neighborhood is very tight knit. Next door neighbors were treated like Aunts and Uncles. When summer came around, we were sometimes divided into groups as the parents who were off from work overlooked us while braiding our heads. Blackouts became an all night bbq and sleepover on each other’s porches. Crooklyn by Spike Lee was a good representation of what it was like in fact. Somewhat. Minus the brownstones, plus a couple more fights (lol).
My grandma was a nurse who’s pretty big on us knowing our family history. She made sure to talk a lot about our Gullah Geechee roots. We also had some Dominican culture influence since her closest friend and our Madrina was, well, Dominican. But she is fairly strict on gender norms and how my sisters and I should act especially with brothers. She antagonized me the most growing up because I continued to ignore this. We don’t get along but i can’t say i don’t get why she’s the way she is. She has a pretty dark past. My mother, a latchkey kid of the finest stock, is more laid back and gives all of us free range to make our own mistakes. Most times. Other times, she’d rather lecture us. Depends on our crime.
I don’t know what my grandpa used to do. He retired waaaaay before my grandmother. I also don’t know much about his culture. He’s 1st gen Jamaican who fully assimilated into American culture. Well, beside his food choices. Now, he gambles and goes to church. When I was younger, he used to teach us how to gamble too. And how to cheat and not get caught. We got a lot of free fast food while he taught us. He has gotten more frugal the older he got. And more isolated.
Dating and Relationships.
I don’t date. I have no interest. Well, no, that’s not exactly true. I’ve considered it but I rather have not seek out anything outside of platonic right now. I have a tight knit circle of friends and several other groups of friends I associate with depending on the activity. I’m realizing it seems like I’m using the term “friends” loosely but I swear I’m not. I’m a virgin and I feel nothing about being one until someone goes “*gasp* You’re a virgin really?” and then I end up on high defense saying “So?” Believe or not, that messed with me a lot.
My love life and lack of interest in having one has always been a struggle. In middle school, the group of friends I hung with were becoming more infatuated with love and sex. Yes, middle school, fifth through eighth grade, ages nine to thirteen. But, when they would talked about who’s hot or not, they would look at me funny when I didn’t join in the discussion. Instead of explaining myself, I simply copied other’s reactions and gushed along with them. This instinct followed me through High school til stopped out of annoyance. I became a listener and adviser in their relationships because I really do love stories in many shapes and forms. And I would never turn down hearing a story.
My primary language is English and AAVE. I’ve been living in a neighborhood filled with Blacks and Latinx. Most of my friends are Black and Lantinx. I didn’t meet a white person my age until college. Okay that’s a partial lie. I’ve been in a summer camp that was made up of predominantly white children. But as the only black kid in my age range, I was sorta uncomfortable. I never made lasting friends there. After High School, I spent a year abroad in Tena, Ecuador where I learned Spanish and Kichwa. I still suck at both languages.
Lots of my clothes when I was younger were borrowed or hand-me-downs. Half of them still are. It’s like thrift shopping without the hiked prices thanks to its popularity by rich white people (Thanks rich white people!) All my siblings’ taste varies. In my case, I’m fond of combining loose and tight clothing (tight jeans and a loose sweater/ baggy jeans and a tight top). No makeup. Silver accessories.
I used to have a short bob cut permed. I hated it. But I rather a perm then getting my hair straightened with a hot comb because the back of my neck and big ears would always get burned. It wasn’t until I made a friend with a natural afro that I realized my natural hair was even an option.
Lol I was a nerd with bad grades.
My family practices Santeria, which has historical roots in both Catholicism and Yoruba thanks to slavery (Yay slavery!). However, because the religion is not fully accepted or well-known, I tend to say I’m simply Catholic if asked. Apparently, a Black Catholic is hard to believe. It is assumed all Black folks are Baptists or some branch of Christianity. I have no idea where that stereotype came from. But I can give some guess. (*cough cough* Tyler Perry….).
As I stated before, I love scifi and fantasy. I especially love urban fantasy involving witches. I blame this love on Practical Magic and Eve’s Bayou, my childhood faves. It’s because of this love that I wish to see more stories with witches of color. And no, I don’t mean that one evil/mysterious southern/Caribbean Voodoo/Hoodoo witch hollywood loves to portray so much. That always plays into the “Black is evil” trope. Give me some damn variety!
I would squeal so hard if the mythology involved in a story isn’t even Eurocentric. I’m not joking. This is serious. When my religion was simply hinted at in the Raven Boys series (It was also a great way of making even more obvious that the character was definitely not white.) and Kenya Wright’s Habitat series, I squealed. All the authors did was write the names of some of the Orishas and I couldn’t help but put my phone down for a moment and inwardly scream with glee. That being said, if a writer does decide to use afrocentric or any religion involving “witchcraft” as a basis, I would personally ask that they make sure is is not a closed religion.
Santeria is, in fact, a closed religion. And while I don’t mind mentions of it in fantasy and even a main character stating they practice it, do not go any further than that. Don’t even research the practices within the religion other than what is public knowledge (And if you don’t have any public knowledge, just ask) Respect that there’s a limit. Anything further spelunking is consider rude, disgusting, disrespectful and dangerous. There’s things that I don’t even know because I haven’t been properly initiated. And the internet has a lot of these practices exposed when it shouldn’t be so please don’t look into it. Please.
Most of the cooking in the house has been done by my grandmother. Because of her various relationships, our food has always been a mixture of Black American, Gullah, Lantinx and Caribbean influences. It is so good. So, so good!
The only thing I don’t eat of hers is her seafood gumbo because I don’t like shellfish. One of my sisters said I should have my “black card” taken for my distaste. I said she could take it if she can name more black movies than me. She still can’t take it. My other sister wishes we could switch places because she loves crab but is allergic. The crazy girl actually sends her husband to buy some benadryl so she can eat some if we ever have some on the table. Smh. Siblings.
My family on both sides are quite fond of reunions. On my grandpa’s side, the family uses Fourth of July and Christmas to get together. On my grandma’s side, they tend to host annual summer reunion and send out RSVP invitations complete with schedules of the whole two to three day event. I didn’t mention this under my family life, but both sides of my family are boujee to different degrees. Lots of black sorors and frats members on both sides. I can’t believe that slipped my mind typing.
I’m a little iffy with Christmas. It’s more of a holiday for the older generation and our niece and nephews. The younger generation, however, don’t particularly care for the holiday. For some of us, it’s because it’s not really Jesus’s Birthday and Santa was whitewashed. For others, it’s because we don’t care to feed into the corporate holiday. For most of us, it’s a combination of the two. But we do love getting together when we can. My older sister and I have conspired to celebrate kwanzaa instead for the past two years. So far, it hasn’t grasped the interest of anyone else in the family.
Being nerds from a young age, my siblings and I have been called “Oreos” or“Not really black” by kids in school on more than one occasion. We shut them down by fighting. Probably not the best strategy but it was best one I could think of in middle school and below. Made it easier to go back to reading my manga.
I got compared to my sisters a lot. It was the absolutely most annoying thing ever. And a major source of my insecurities growing older.
Need I address colorism? My highschool was filled with it. #TeamLight v #TeamDark. I was on neither team, because in the region I live, skin color was a pretty long spectrum. I fell in the between. Who came up with this?
I’ll admit it. I hate my own tears. They make me feel weak. Which isn’t true…I know. But, it is a mentality I always had. I have depression and PTSD. This isn’t really a secret. I tell people if I’m asked. But have you ever had someone look at you and say, “Really? You don’t seem like the type.” ……
I am a black female. I’ve been labelled “Strong” and “Independent” the older I got. By my mother. By my siblings. By my peers. And I get those labels. Even from friends. I loved those labels. I call myself by those labels. I mean, who doesn’t want to be seen as strong and independent? Those are positive affirmations, right? I think they would be. If that wasn’t all the positive labels we could get. Somehow, society has decided we are beings that are incapable of being multifaceted. I was indirectly taught to hate my own tears because black girls don’t cry. You can’t cry and be strong. What a terrible mantra fed to black girl at a young age. So, instead you tell everyone “It’s fine.”
I told my therapist it was fine. Until she told me straight up it was not fine. And it was okay to cry. I don’t like to cry. But I still (involuntarily) did it.
Things I’d like to see less of/Things I’d like to see more of:
I’m sick and tired of seeing black and latinx folks being portrayed as only fantasy gangs members. We are not only gang members. That’s a terrible popular myth the media put out there and I hate it even more so when it’s portrayed in SFF genre..
I’m tired of having one black person in a novel being described as having skin the color of “midnight.” And he’s (it’s always a he) not even that important to the story
I hate how every time someone decides to add a person of color, they have to be ambiguous brown. I’m not saying ambiguously brown don’t exist and don’t need representation but is it really that had for a dark brown skin person to play a major role in a story that’s not about slavery? Speaking of which….
Why we always gotta be slaves? Or better yet….
Why don’t we exist at all in High fantasy stories? Urban fantasy? Brooklyn wasn’t always the gentrified white town it is now. Still isn’t. How are you erasing people of color from NYC??? We make up way too much of the population to be completely erased
Stop racial coding other creatures to surround your white human characters. Especially as the bad guys. That’s just shitty writing. Step up your game!
I love Black love
I love Gay love. I wish more would follow moonlight’s example and show poc are gay too and gay doesn’t always equal to stereotypical femininity.
I love interracial love HOWEVER, can we pair people of color with other people of color as well? I’m starting to hate seeing it always a white person paired with a Poc. Variety damnit!
Friendships between boys and girls that don’t transform into love.
Friendships between girls that didn’t start out as a rivalry.
Different body types besides the skinny and tall. Make a main character that’s fat for once. It’s not a problem.
Magical characters of color that aren’t “Noble Savages” or “Wise Monks” that used their magic for personal gain for once instead of waiting for the white hero to come.
Nerdy black characters who aren’t 100% competent and cries. One that isn’t in a five token band that always gonna be compare to the white main character. Make the nerd the main character!
That’s all I can think of at the top of my head. But my list really does go on.
Kim smirked down at the tiny girl who had stepped forward.
”You? What are you, like, 5 years old?” he teased, using his hand to measure her small stature as she continued to grin at him.
“I’m 8, actually. We’re in the same class you know,” she responded, folding her arms. Cocking an eyebrow, she challenged, “I’ll give you a chance to back out, if you’re afraid…”
“Not a chance,” he snapped. He never backed out of a challenge, and he had yet to be beaten at this particular game. He turned to the jungle gym, hands hovering in anticipation at his sides.
Max, another student from their class, stepped forward. “Remember, the person who climbs the highest wins! Ready…set… GO!!”
Kim and the small girl both began climbing, the larger boy having the obvious advantage with his longer reach. He quickly made it to the sixth of the ten level structure, and made himself comfortable. No one had ever made it past the fourth level before except him– so when he looked back to see his opponent already on the fifth level, he was shocked to say the least.
She paused, looking around her in search of her next handhold, and that’s when he noticed she had taken her shoes off and was using her feet to keep a solid grip on the bars. As she made to pull herself up onto the same lever as him, Kim leapt into motion, grabbing the bars right above him and hauling himself upward once more.
They both continued to climb, until they finally reached the ninth level. There was only room for one person on the top, and lightning fast Kim swung up there, knocking his shins in the process.
Grinning down at the tiny girl still holding tightly to the top bar, he sneered. “Well, looks like I wo–”
He cut off at the triumphant smirk she leveled at him as she pushed herself up, balancing precariously on the bar– before she grabbed onto his shoulders! He felt himself being pulled off-balance by her meager weight, and quickly grabbed the bar between his legs. Shifting to keep them both from toppling to the ground, Kim felt his eyes widen as she finally settled on top of him, sitting on his backpack and shoulders.
“You were saying?” she sing-songed, and as the reality of the situation hit him, Kim started laughing. He had been out-smarted by the miraculous girl now using him as her personal throne, and for once, he couldn’t be happier to lose a challenge as the call came from the cheering crowd of kids below.
For Atypical April, my final piece for week one’s theme FRIENDSHIP! I decided to do my interpretation of how Kim and Mari first met and became best bro’s XD Hope you enjoyed– I’m not as great a writer when there isn’t a punchline, so please forgive that sad excuse for a drabble XD Dedicated to my darling @mr-hawkmoth– I know she loves these two XD
The sheer amount of good luck kisses between partners oh my gosh it’s lovely
In general, everyone pretty much knows everyone and we just have a good time like, we talk to the opposing team while they’re on base and stuff it’s good
So many gay dirty jokes it’s hilarious
My dad helps out sometimes as our first base coach ( because my parents come to every game) and now my team is calling him ‘Grandpa’ and he’s gonna get a shirt
My mom likes to wear a dress and heels everyday (she just enjoys it) and it’s kinda like a 'good luck charm’ for us because when it’s cold, she wears jeans and we tend to lose lol. They also have taken to calling her 'Mom’ as well
Two women bring their daughter to the games, she always wears her 'game TuTu’ and they bring her out to high-five the opposite team after the games
A woman in her late 40’s has her mom still come to her games. She sits by my parents all bundled up and waves a tiny little rainbow flag whenever her daughter is up to bat I always die at this
Dude, requests are back up, awesome! How about DAI companions + Krem de la creme reacting to the inquisitor being one of the last avian folk?(Like, they have big ass wings, so they always wear an even bigger cloak to hide them, and during battle somehow, they end up losing the cloak? They can legit fly with them)
Cassandra: She stares and stares before angrily demanding to know why they hid this from her. They sheepishly explain their situation, and she calms down, but it doesn’t change the fact they hid it. When she eventually gets over it, she sometimes just sits and watches them fly around (which they do for fun; they’re actually sort of relieved to be revealed for this reason). It makes her nervous, at first, worrying they’ll suddenly drop, but she’s awed by how agile and graceful they are in the sky. Once or twice, they have to pick her up and drop her somewhere else, and it makes her nervous every time they pick her up, and she hates how helpless she feels suspended in the air. If Romanced: Sometimes he takes her flying for no reason other than a good time. She likes it significantly more than non-romanced flying. Eventually, they’ll land, and have a quiet, serene place to sit together while she listens to him recite poetry.
Blackwall: He stares. That’s all he can do as he gawks with a slack jaw for a long time. He has no words– trying for speech just results in helpless sputtering. The man stands aside as the others fuss and try to make sense of the situation, and speaks last. He gets over it, though, once he hears the story, and doesn’t mind at all. “They’re like a pair of griffon wings,” he admires, “powerful and fast.” If the Herald can lift him up, it makes him supremely uncomfortable the first time they take him into the sky, but he finds that he thinks it’s fun. If Romanced: He regularly compliments her on how beautiful her wings are, and he tries to help itch and clean the spots she can’t reach easily. He brings her flowers that grow all the way up on a mountainside, and she gently teases him and says she could just fly him up there. “No, my lady,” he refuses, “it’s not the same if all the work’s taken out of it. You shouldn’t waste your time helping me get you flowers; let me do the work.”
Iron Bull: After getting past the initial shock, he’s utterly green with envy. It looks like SO MUCH FUN, taking off like a dragon to the skies. The Herald tries to pick him up (to no avail, he’s too heavy) to give him the experience of flying, so he takes it upon himself to make them stronger and faster, so they can. Push-ups with wings, laps around Skyhold, timing their speed of flight, you name it. “Just wait. You’ll go back to your people and fly circles around them! When you can finally lift me up, you can air-drop me on the enemies for an attack from above! It’s gonna be great!” If romanced: Hot. He’s 100% into this. He snickers if any feathers get ruffled or fall off after sex. “Did I ruffle your feathers, Kadan?” he teases, and he just laughs as they slap him with a wing. He ties one of the feathers that fall off to the dragontooth necklace, as long as they don’t mind.
Sera: She’s freaked out and utterly shocked. She has no idea how to react, so she just stares for a long time, sputtering helplessly. She feels bad later at how upset they seemed at her facial expression. “Aw, shite… well, your feathery ass is welcome here, alright?” she reassures. She likes tossing things at them when they’re flying to see if they can catch it, and it becomes a sort of game/exercise routine. She also talks them into using their wings to prank others. She screams the first time they pick her up and take her into the sky, but soon she realizes she likes it, so long as she trusts the Herald. Sometimes she’ll ask to be taken with them, because she thinks it’s exhilarating– and a few times, shoots arrows at people from above while the Herald carries her. “Death from above! Arrows from the sky! I even have a source of feathers for fletching at any moment! Hah!” A few times, if she needs them, she’ll just pluck a feather clean off if there’s none lying around, and sticks her tongue out as the Herald protests. “What? You still got a lot of ‘em. Your wings are huge!” Also jokingly refers to wings/feathers sticking out as “wingboners.” If Romanced: She likes tickling her wings and playing with her feathers, and sleeping under a wing when they’re in bed together. “They’re soft. And fuzzy. And cute.” she gushes. She also learns how to preen the feathers, and takes to doing so regularly out of affection, at least in the areas her girlfriend can’t reach with ease. She typically finishes it off by taking a feather or two that falls off to keep for herself.
Varric: “Holy Mother of Andraste’s ass.” he breathes, taking it all in. He comes around quickly, though, and asks a lot of questions– though few on anatomy, unlike Dorian, and more on who they are, where they come from, and about their people. He’s fascinated, and taking notes. Sometimes when he’s out of writing quills, he wryly asks them if he can take one of theirs– or may just take one if they drop off from time-to-time. He’s not a fan of going into the sky, at all. “You know, I like the idea of getting as far away from the Stone as possible,” he says nervously as he looks down at the world below, “but this is a bit too far. Dwarves don’t fly.”
Cole: He knew, and he doesn’t mind in the least. “I am sorry. The others know, and they want to help. They don’t mind the wings.” He also comments that the others are happy while watching the Herald fly, and the Inquisitor takes to doing small shows on a regular basis for the crowd at Skyhold, which always draws large numbers. Everyone is cheered by the amazing sight of them in the sky, and morale goes up. People start sitting and waiting for hours before the show starts. Cole smiles– they helped.
Dorian: About five million questions start flying from his lips as soon as he’s out of the initial shock. How fast can you fly? How many feathers do you have? What’s the bone structure of your wings? Can you stick one straight out so I can measure how long it is? Where are your people from? Why are you the only one out here? It makes them more than a little uncomfortable, and he feels bad when he realizes how uncomfortable they are. “Oh.” he says, suddenly quiet. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… if you need to talk, let me know?” He loves watching them soar through the sky, and he takes notes as he watches. He considers them and their wings utterly beautiful, and he feels honored to know them and witness their flight. He does not particularly care for going in the air, though, citing a sudden fear of extreme heights as he clings to the Herald, trying desperately to not look down. If Romanced: He loves preening his lover’s feathers, because it’s hard for them to reach behind and get them clean. He finishes it all with a kiss. He feels so safe under his boyfriend’s wings as they lay together, and he silently smirks as he imagines his father’s reaction to seeing his boyfriend.
Vivienne: She has to work to hide her complete and utter shock, and briefly scolds the Herald for not telling her before. When they’re comfortable, she examines their wings in detail. She figures out a grooming regimen. “Darling, everyone knows what you are now– there’s no point in hiding your wings any longer.” She smiles. “So use them. Preen them. Take the time and effort to make them presentable. You will be imposing, awe-inspiring, beautiful, majestic, and everyone will know it with a single glance.” She introduces them to her tailor, who manages to make them outfits that accommodate the wings– even accentuate them. Vivienne does not like being taken into the sky, but tolerates it if necessary in combat.
Solas: Their people were known to the ancient Elvhen, but their numbers were in slow decline– he’s honestly surprised that there’s any still around at all. He’s sympathetic to them, and surprises them by being the least shocked of any of the party members. He claims that he has seen their people before in the Fade, and suddenly the other party members are coming to him, asking for information. When he shakes them off, he mentions to the Herald that they shouldn’t hide their wings, for they are beautiful and proof of their ancient people. He asks them a lot of questions about the current state of their race, about their society, which befuddles the Herald. He doesn’t seem to mind being lifted into the air, if need be, and may even ask the Herald to carry him to places inaccessible by walking alone. If Romanced: They spend dates just finding places that only winged creatures can reach, and they look over the world together. They slumber and see memories previous unexplored by the remote location, and Solas feels genuine happiness that someone can understand the value of unexplored dreams. “Thank you,ma vhenan. Thank you…”
Cullen: He just sighs. Somehow this doesn’t even shock him. Maybe he’s seen too much. He’s a bit frustrated that they didn’t tell him to begin with, but lets it go readily. He asks if they know any others of their kind who would be interested in joining the Inquisition– flying soldiers would be excellent– and finds himself bewildered as they tell him that the vast majority of their people are shy and mistrustful of land-dwellers. He apologizes, and does not press the matter further. He enjoys watching them fly, and compliments them on their ability, but absolutely hates being taken off the ground and into the sky in any circumstances. If Romanced: He’s somewhat more tolerant of being taken into the sky, but he still doesn’t like it. Sometimes when he’s having bad dreams, he awakens as one of her wings gently folds over him, covering him softly, affectionately, and his heart rate slows. He’s safe, and she loves him, and he feels it. He goes back to sleep in peace, happy with what he has and who he loves.
Leliana: She’s just envious, if anything; she wouldn’t mind being able to fly. She was wondering what they were hiding, and found several stray feathers (which may or may not be in unusual colors) from time-to-time, and this explains it. She takes it pretty calmly, and asks if they know any others of their kind that might be willing to join as agents, or even airborne couriers. If the Herald ever takes her into the sky, she acts totally calm, but she LOVES it, even though she doesn’t say so.
Josephine: She’s at a loss. She tries to quickly compose herself and awkwardly make sense of the situation, but once the shock wears off, she’s endlessly curious about being able to fly. She watches them zip through the sky with grace and speed and is utterly mesmerized. Like Vivienne, she encourages a strict preening regimen– if they’re going to have wings, they might as well make them presentable. Eventually, the Herald offers to take her flying, and she squeals with a mix of delight and a bit of fright. Her hair blows loosely, and the wind’s on her face, and by the time the Herald brings her back down, she’s dazed and eager for the next time they fly together. If Romanced: They take her flying with them all the time, and it makes for interesting dates. She giggles and squeals (and on one occasion, screams as they do a loop with her in their arms) and has the time of her life. They always end it by landing somewhere picturesque, and they sit together, cuddling and admiring the world around them.
Krem: “Your… your Worship?” he asks, shocked, not sure if he’s seeing correctly, or if Bull’s pulling a prank like that time they all covered themselves with feathers– but no, it’s really them. If they don’t mind, he asks them questions about flying, and remarks that the Chargers would love having one of their kind on the team, if they know anyone looking for work. Sometimes he tosses his stuffed winged nug plushies at them from the ground, and they catch, not unlike the game played with Sera. He really likes flying, and admires the view of the world below.
The video of the girls digging that A.D.is using as blackmail, is DEFINITELY taken from Alison’s vantage point when she was NOT digging. I think it’s important to highlight that the show is making an effort to show us through Paige that Ali is still manipulative. She still uses people to get what she wants and she likes being saved. I don’t see Alison as completely innocent just yet.
I've seen you say a couple times that you don't see or that you're disabled. Do you mind talking about it? I ask because I am an aspiring writer and it is really hard for me. I wanted to know how you managed or what it was like?
I don’t mind talking about it. It’s something that made me who I am.
When I was about 12, my health sort of started to eat itself. I suddenly had a ton of allergies, and there were days I couldn’t get out of bed. I got sick all the time. In freshman year of high school, I suddenly couldn’t see. For a long time a thing had been going on in my eyes, but I guess I didn’t think it was abnormal until it made it impossible for me to see. Basically this hole was kind of growing in my eyes, but it was more like a rainbow.
When I started having trouble with colors and detail vision, my mom freaked out a bit, because at the time, I was an award winning artist who had ideas of going to college for art. Then I started tripping over things, hitting my head, having trouble with depth perception. Then I got sick, and I mean sick.
I spent about 23 hours a day in bed. I had almost constant migraines. I had pain in my entire body. My skin turned yellow. I went to every kind of doctor you can think of and was tested for everything there is. One day, I had about 12 vials of blood drawn. No one knew what was wrong. The eyes weren’t that big a deal at first, because it seemed like I might have something really serious. The first couple of eye doctors I went to kind of looked at me and said “Oh it’s nothing big.” I actually had one guy tell me that my brain was just shutting off my eyes because I wasn’t using them properly. Yeah.
Then finally, my mom took me to a friend of our family who happened to be an eye surgeon. She did a free exam. I’ll never forget it because it was the first time anyone believed me. I’d been told by doctor after doctor that there was nothing wrong with me. I’d been referred to therapists, told I needed depression meds, told I was just going through a phase or needed attention. Then this doctor put on her head gear, looked into my eyes…took off the head gear…got new head gear…looked into my eyes…took off the headgear…got hand held tools…looked into my eyes…and then stared at me with her mouth hanging open.
“I can’t see the back of your eye,” she said. And suddenly the world simultaneously healed itself and flipped upside-fucking-down for me.
Then it was all about my eyes, the one symptom we could see happening. The one that was the most dangerous. But by then it was too late.
What happened is pretty simple: I apparently have some weird recessive DNA. It triggers certain bizarre immune issues at puberty. My immune system decided to attack my body. The eyes are a delicately balanced system. They show symptoms first. My immune system attacked them with a vengeance. They swelled up like balloons. Normal eye pressure is about 14-17. Mine was at a 22 at its best. It put a tremendous amount of pressure on my Retina, specifically my macula, cutting off blood flow like when you sit on your foot. You know those little shadowy things that float across your eyes? They’re called protein floaters. My eyes had produced so many of those that the doctor could not see through them. It was a fog.
They had to find a way to map my eye, to track the damage. Cue the eye exam from hell. I have always been, even before my autoimmune disorder, deathly allergic to melon. Any kind of melon. But now I was allergic to all sorts of shit, fruits vegetables, all kinds of crap. My dad is allergic to contrast dyes. So when the retinologist suggested this dye-based eye exam that is kind of like a CAT scan, my mom said “no”. See, they inject you with this dye and then they flash this weird light in your eyes. It causes the dye to glow, and then they can see the things through the fog. My mom told them I was too sensitive to stuff for that to be safe. The doc assured her they’d put a butterfly in my arm, meaning the vein would be kept open, and a syringe of benedryl was set on the counter. They’d never had anyone react, and they needed the pictures or there was nowhere to go from there.
So they put this dye into me, and it was like I’d been injected with fire, but there was no way around it, and to me, I knew they only had about 90 seconds to get the images they needed. So I sucked it up. finally the burning began to spread. Suddenly my back felt like I was being stabbed, and I suddenly couldn’t speak. I tapped my hands on my mom, then began sneezing spontaneously. My mom lifted my shirt, and I had quarter-sized hives. The nurse said “Stop sneezing on the camera”. Yeah.
My mom went ballistic. The doctor flew up the stairs and gave me the emergency meds. I slid into a dissociation state and nearly out of my chair. They had to prop me against the camera for the next couple minutes and reinject the dye. No other way, you see.
They did this test every few months for a few years.
But then there was treatment. Not much they could do, except try to get the swelling under control. Only way to do that was corticosteroid injections in the eye. Yup. A needle in the eye. No, they don’t knock you out. They numb the surface of the eye with the same numbing drops they give you for the exams and then they come at you with a needle, tell you to look down and to hold still. And you fucking do.
I was 15 when that started.
I went to experimental clinics, labs, and joined studies. I dropped out of those. Why? It’s pretty simple. The first day I came to the exams, I was kept waiting for over two hours. I was taken into a room. I was left there. No information, no talking. Suddenly a man came in followed by a group of people, all in lab coats. He started moving me around like I was a doll and talking like, “The patient presents with…the patient this, the patient that…”
I shoved him back and said, “The patient’s name is Kristina, and she is 16.”
He finished his exam, and when he left, after the students had gone, he took two Q-tips, dipped them in that pink shit your dentist uses to swab your gums before an injection, and SHOVED them under my eyelids with a cocky smirk.
The patient will never be an snotty little bitch again, I guess.
So yeah. Fuck those guys. They gave me two injections in one day, which no one had ever done before, because it was almost impossible to function with two pimple-like bubbles on your eyeballs.
Still my health was bad. Then all of a sudden, when my mom had given up, It just wasn’t anymore. Suddenly, I was fine, and all that was left were the eyes. I went back to school, except now I was blind.
In a few months, I’d lost about 80% of my perfect vision. I was photophobic. I got horrible and constant headaches. I walked with a cane. And not a single fucking teacher believed me, except my civics teacher, who had gone blind at a young age due to some other weird eye disorder, and my physics teacher who was deaf. I had teachers send me to the office for wearing my sunglasses (with a note on file). I had teachers get on my case about having an audio recorder and CD player for my books. I had teachers call me names, make fun of me, make me leave class to photocopy their notes larger, so that I missed the lecture the notes were on. I had teachers take my medications which had to be in my possession because of their time-sensitive nature and constant administration and hide them in their desks as punishment for asking questions or demanding help. I had classmates pick on me, but luckily, I was well-liked, and I was an officer in the ROTC. I even excelled there in spite of my vision, because my Captain believed in my leadership skills.
I always tell this story because I think it is funny. We had this special boot camp we got to go to if we were in the upper ranks of the ROTC. If you joined the military after high school (which I could never do) you got a higher paygrade for having gone through it. Almost like taking a couple JC classes in the military. It was grueling and all physical fitness, obstacle courses, PT, classes, guard duty…fucking blah. Our unit was allowed six participants. I sort of figured that it wasn’t really fair for me to go, even with my high rank (a company XO). To my complete fucking shock, my Captain recommended me to go, cutting out a classmate (and ex) of mine who was higher in rank. The boy went ape-shit. He went on and on about how unfair it was. He even went to the school board. My Captain made his reasons clear; he told them that the academy isn’t about military sponsorship. It’s about skills and quality. He didn’t care if I had a disability. In his eyes I had more innate ability than anyone there because I had worked so hard just to be where I was. The boy was angry. I told my Captain I appreciated the gesture, but honestly, we ought to make it fair. I told him that we should train to meet the PT standards, and that if this kid could make his, but i couldn’t make mine, he should go. I made mine. He didn’t. He complained about that too. At the last minute, we were told one extra person could come because another school had lost one. So he came anyway. The whole time he bitched about me being there. When I got there, the real military officers gave me shit like you wouldn’t believe, because they weren’t used to dealing with disabilities or recognizing that they can’t discriminate against high schoolers by law. The commander of the unit tried to dress me down in front of everybody for wearing sunglasses. I was pretty pleased with myself for telling him off but still sounding respectful. He kept saying “Take off my glasses”. I told him they weren’t his. They were mine, by law, and that if he had a problem with that, he could consult my attorney, the DOJ, and the doctor who prescribed them. He tried to fuck with me. I didn’t say anything except to ask him if he wanted me to have a migraine, because that’s what taking the glasses off means. He was so confused by me he walked away and called my Captain over. There were words. After that, he came up to me once or twice, almost like a test, to ask me if I needed him to slow down or if I was getting around alright. He wasn’t being nice. He was egging me in a condescending tone and with very bullying language. He’s a drill instructor, and you know what, that’s his job. I told him I was fine. But I made a decision: I wasn’t just going to make the female PT marks. I was going to test out of this fucking place at the male PT marks. And I fucking did. That boy…had an asthma attack on the track (I had asthma too, but I worked my ass off while he coasted on his “boyness”) and failed. At the certificate ceremony, the commander came up to me and said I had really impressed him, and that it was a shame I couldn’t enter the Navy. I thanked him, but what I wanted to say was, “Go fuck yourself and take the NAVY with you”. I ended up the Battalion XO Senior year. This would have given me a guaranteed spot in Westpoint if I could have taken it. My Captain cried when he told me he was sorry he had to give it to one of our Company XO’s. I told him that it was best for everyone, because I am not the type of person to enjoy taking orders. I had learned that about myself.
Around Junior year I got people to pay attention. My doctors got the DOJ and the Social Security people involved. A woman came to my school and enforced compliance in a tone of voice I’d never heard anyone but my mother use. She threatened to rain brimstone down on them if they didn’t give me what I needed, and things changed.
My parents wanted me to take a full scholarship to a local school, but I wanted to get away. So I did. I wanted to travel abroad, so i did. And when I was 19, they perfected one of the surgeries they had been working on the entire time I’d been struggling with this.
See, the injections had brought and kept the swelling down, but that meant that the fog was still there (since ocular fluid doesn’t replace), and the structures in the eye had been stretched all to shit, and were laying in my eye like melted plastic wrap. The old surgery was like a blind man hacking with a machete, but the new surgery used fluorescent dyes to track movement. Dyes that wouldn’t kill me. The old surgery had a 50-50 shot at complete loss of vision and made you lay on your face for three weeks. The new was fool proof and took 45 minutes. So, I got one eye done. They swapped out all the fluid and replaced it with saline. They peeled the distorted membrane off the macula. They stitched up my eyeball and gave me a sick metal eye patch. Looked like a fucking space pirate. It was rad.
But the blind spot is still there. The cataracts caused by the steroids are still there. The scars are there.
A few years later I had the other one done too.
My college was great. It took a lot of work getting all my reading done, about 500 pages minimum, per week, done via audio. I used to spend hours at the pool table in our residence hall, listening to my books and practicing. I got pret damn good too, at pool. It was difficult taking notes or working with a note taker. It was scary traveling by myself. It was hard to get people to understand there wasn’t anything WRONG with me. Just that my eyes don’t work even though it seems like I’m normal and fine, and like they should. People always think to be legally blind you have to be completely blind, and they think you’re not going to be able to defend yourself. I’ve been targeted by pickpockets. I’ve been followed by scary dudes. I’ve been treated like shit, laughed at, and accused by full grown adults of faking to get privileges, all because I can look at the place where their head should be and smile at the blank spot there. All because I can walk down a flight of stairs with a few neat tricks I know that have nothing to do with a cane.
But shit…you probably didn’t mean to ask for my life story. I’m going to get back to the point. My writing. What has it done for that? Like how can you be a writer if you can’t fucking see? Technology. It’s been amazing. I can use a computer same as anyone. The Kindle has been a fucking revolution for me because for the first time in a decade and a half I could read without pain and suffering. Just…all the things it does have made life so much easier than it used to be. It got me out of bad relationships with people who used my disability as a control. It gave me a little bit of confidence back. It helped me know I could handle myself.
And really, I think my vision loss had a lot to do with my writing. In some ways it gives me different perspective, sure, but it’s more than that. I was undeclared when I entered college. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I thought about history or sociology. My mom had a degree in that and she was an English teacher. I wanted art history, but what the fuck was the point in that? Couldn’t see a damn thing. And then I had a class in poetry, and shit…That made sense. I’d always loved language and writing. Always been okay at it. Dorte stuff but never thought about doing it for a living. But then it was like yeah…yeah I’m gonna fucking do that. Just like when I decided to meet the male PT standards.
If it is in you. If you love it. If it defines you and possesses you, it does not matter how fucked up you are. You will find a way. You don’t have a choice. You are that thing. And you’ll adapt. You just have to let yourself. You have to keep pushing. You have to learn how to handle frustration. you have to train yourself into stamina. You just keep going. I’m nowhere near as successful as I want to be. I’m still going. I hope I get even better. I hope I can say things that make truth more obvious, or that help people put words to things they have always wanted to say.
I don’t need my eyes to be a fucking firestorm. That’s just me. Eyes don’t mean shit.
So keep going. Keep doing whatever you need to. Do it better and better. Bend yourself around it. People who see you struggle will think they’re lucky, but you and I know the truth: they’re not even close to the kind of strong you are. Not even a little bit.