so i have a picture of this that i took myself

8

This is my self appreciation post of my face.

I don’t know if this will make sense to anyone, because it doesn’t make too much sense me to me either. 
All these pictures have been taken within the past year. Until a year ago, i hated my face. I wouldn’t take pictures with it, if I did i’d try to hide it with my phone (if it was a mirror selfie) otherwise just take pictures of certain parts of my face or in group pictures i’d cover it with my hands. 

It took me SO long to find comfort in my unsymmetrical face. My big nose. My thick eyebrows. My weirdly shaped lips. My sideburns. But i’ve finally somehow grown comfortable in realizing that this is my body and I need to start loving it rather than destroying it. 

When I post pictures of my face on instagram, i still loose a lot of followers, i don’t get as many comments as I would of a picture of my body. But thats okay. Because I am not being who I am or posting pictures of myself for the approval of others in the terms of likes and comments. 

Its so important to feel beautiful. 
You are beautiful. I hope you know that <3 

I’m sorry if none of this made sense. 

Instagram @annikabansal

1930s Animation: How it came about, What happened to it, What it influenced.

Hey guys! So recently as I’m sure a lot of you know, the 1930s style of animation has made a resurgence in the forms of Bendy and the Ink Machine and Cuphead! So I’m just making this to show where it comes from c:

Before you start though, I’ll be mentioning Max Fleischer in this post, and you can find out more about his life in the book Out of the Inkwell. I don’t have it myself as I’m pretty poor, but I’d love to read it soon <3

Was It Walt Disney?

It depends on what kind of style you’re thinking! Walt Disney’s work began with an animation known as Alice’s Wonderland (1923).

which, looking onto his future works, is a lot more different. The cartoon look is there; however, those famed Pac-Man eyes aren’t, neither are the rubberhose limbs and thick black characters. Those came into his work later on with his Mickey Mouse shorts such as Plane Crazy (1928) and the first animation to feature synchronized sound, Steamboat Willie (1928). The bouncy animation is there, squashing and stretching all the characters and objects!

Though, Steamboat Willie was actually not the first animation to feature Synchronized sound! That would be credited to  “Oh, Mabel, Mother, Pin a Rose on Me” (1924) (Which I actually can’t find…Here’s the song though!) and later on, My Ole Kentucky Home (1926).

There is a lot of…Drama….surrounding the relationship between the studios of Disney and Fleischer, but this isn’t going to be about that (though I may touch on it), I would definitely recommend looking it up though, it’s very fascinating.

Around this time, the scary looking Lip-Sync animation started to come along and the styles were fairly similar, though the Fleischer Car-Tunes were a lot more, in my opinion, clean, however didn’t fully stretch their characters as much as Disney had been doing later on.

Who are Fleischer Studios?

Fleischer Studios first opened around the 1920s as Inkwell Studios. It was created by brothers Max and Dave Fleischer, whom were Born and Raised in Poland. In 1914, Max Fleischer created the Rotoscope, a device that could allow the animator to create smoother productions as they had been drawn over Filmed reference.

Using this Process, they created the Out of the Inkwell (1918 - 1929) series, starring Koko the Clown!

Max included a lot more Live Action in his animations than Walt Disney and even revolutionised the way it worked due to his own inventions, including The Stereoptical Process (which I’ll show more on later), that gave him a good edge forwards during their prime. However, due to A Series of Not Quite Fortunate Events, he never quite overcame Disney and, unfortunately, his studio met a sad end. 

What other Cartoons did they make?

Fleischer Studios made a surprising turn with bringing in Less Live action footage over time and creating more Lovable characters such as Bimbo The Dog and Betty Boop (1931). (Betty Boop being another can of worms entirely with the problems her design created and the blow it dealt the studio)

It was around this time that people could start to notice the style’s true beginnings. The famed Eyes had begun to appear, the Clearly Animated Flat props and characters over the detailed painted environments, and the rubberhose stretchiness of their movements.

Bringing in Cuphead as reference, both Hilda Berg and Cala Maria were heavily inspired by Betty boop’s design as mentioned by Studio MDHR’s Jake Clark in their GDC (Game Developer Conference) talk, which I’d definitely recommend watching.

Besides these characters, perhaps one of their other most Well known characters was Popeye the sailor man! featuring Sinbad, a character I’m fairly sure inspired the design of Cuphead’s Captain Brinybeard.

In this animation you can see every part of the style’s inspiration. The watercolour backgrounds, the flat Cel characters and their stretchy, rubbery movements, and, shown in the image above, the Two-Tone Technicolor process (A secret in Cuphead for those who don’t know). This was another issue between Disney and Fleischer, as well as their own Financial problems with Paramount Pictures, so they had to resort to using cheaper methods, resulting in the above image being created by layering a negative-spaced film reel through red and green filters (basically, it was complicated back in the day, no easy layers then).

I’d definitely recommend looking up more Fleischer cartoons too if you’d like inspirations for your own works or for the animation practise, such as Swing you Sinners (1930) which I honestly think is one of the biggest influences in terms of the recent style too!

Why does Disney have this style in their animations now?

Honestly I couldn’t tell you that myself, as personally I myself am not really a huge Disney fan. Considering his past with the studios he worked in or rivalled, I never really had a soft spot for him. However, I like to hope that he took inspiration from Max Fleischer. Max was unfortunately met with the worst circumstances with working under Paramount Pictures, The Great Depression hugely hitting his work, and his relationship with his brother Dave deteriorating. (honestly I wish this studio was still here and Paramount not).

You could say the style was stolen, or developed, or inspired, being shown in Mickey Mouse’s more updated designs as well as just a general staple of “Old Animation” with the eyes and Thick Black characters. Either way, it’s the fact Fleischer inspired generations with the little miracles he created that is the important thing. I wish people would stop attributing these qualities initially refined by Fleischer to Walt Disney and giving him more credit than he deserves, but that’s just my own opinion. 

Should we keep making animation in this style, or move on?

Please keep making things in the old rubberhose animation styles. Yes it’s an old aesthetic and yes it’s not…the best out there, but it’s an incredibly endearing look that I think is a love letter to the old days of animation. 

You will get those who pick at the details of how it doesn’t fit quite with the style (With Bendy being a victim, his proportions and shapes being very inaccurate if put into the Fleischer/Old Disney style), however, it’s how you bring that style and adapt it to the modern world, how you make it so that you’re not merely just going by the original rules of how you create these characters and worlds. Yes, Cuphead strictly stuck to these details as beautifully as possible, but Bendy was, though I’m not a fan of his design myself, a great addition and evolution of the style into the modern day.

As nice as it is to remember these styles for when they came from and what they were inspired by, it’s always nice to know it’s just that, a style. You can continue to create in that style as much as you want!

However, if you ever want to say/credit where the style came from, though Disney did create a style similar to this and adapted some of its individual aspects into their work later on after, the Vast majority of it comes from Fleischer Studios. It’s a common misconception, but an understandable one considering the studio no longer exists and how popular Disney is.

If you ever have more questions about it, go ahead and ask! I’d love to research more about animation and give you information on any specifics within the studio, the troubles they faced within themselves/with eachother or other studios that were present back then :D <3

when i was seven the sea-witch cursed me.

she cursed my great-grandfather, actually, who had spat on the hands of the ocean and disrespected the beating heart of the earth - for what else are waves but a pulse - who was silly and violent and who tried to rip from the water what was hers by rights. we were wealthy, before that, a family of merchants. my mother says in her youth she recalls white horses, the gleam of candles, early mornings with bread baked fresh by a horde of servants.

he didn’t ask permission to cross her. that’s what my mother tells me while she spoons porridge with no flavor into the wood of my bowl. he had no faith in superstition, rode with boats that were more decoration than strength, the folly of a man who was cruel and vain and proud of his own gold teeth. the sky had been blue, so regardless of what the village witch said, he would sail that day. and when his boat sank; their lives turned blue like the sky that day.

my mother says she thinks the curse on the men of our family, even if they come in when they marry, is that they will forever be violent, too foolish to see the storm on the horizon. she whispers this to me on the eve of my seventh birthday, while father is his own storm, thundering around the house, looking for her. later, when i am cleaning the cut by her cheek, she tells me the curse is on the women to forever be unhappy, to wane until they are shadows, to walk into the deep like a sinking ship. 

we don’t burn candles often, they are too expensive. she tells me this in the silk of a dark room. the moon kisses her hair. 

in three days, my mother will walk into the ocean, and my father will be my own problem. the curse will pass onto me. 

my father does not believe in superstition, no curse to conquer him. when he is gone, and i am heartbroken, i go to the village witch. i ask her to teach me about magic, and other things, and about how the ocean can be coaxed, and how to save my father’s soul. 

and my hands rot too, keeping a house by myself with things i barely knew. i learn the art of a good scrubbing, keep my mind full of white horses while i endlessly clean, dream of candles in dark while i make the bread that he will not allow me to eat. he keeps me from the ocean, from visiting the place that took my mom, from following in her footsteps where the water makes women undone.

i am sixteen when i see her in the water of a bowl. she scares me so completely that i drop it, and my father comes in with his hands, and the curse, and i almost forget all about it. it isn’t until after that i realize she is beautiful, and young, which surprises me. 

i think about it every evening. her face becomes distorted to me. i can no longer remember the exact shape of it, only the impression of beauty. 

i turn seventeen and wait for the high moon. i pin safety to my vest in little witch herbs and runes. i put naked toes on the sand and slip closer, closer, to the avenue of my family’s doom. i find a little private beach, small and surrounded by rocks, hidden from my father in the event he ever thought to come looking. at high tide, it is barely the span of my body. at low, it feels empty.

the witch of the land has given me what i need to call in the witch of the sea, but i do not use it. it feels wrong, somehow, standing here in the wind and the quiet pulse of the world. i put down the incense and sage and i sit just close enough it feels wild, dangerous - but not close enough to get caught up in thrill. 

when nothing happens, i go home and i make bread that i will not eat.

for months i do this. i climb down to my beach. i learn to do it when the moon is half, and then when the moon is empty. i learn to do it so well that sometimes i go to sleep in my own bed and wake up by the water. i take to sleeping with warding runes to keep me from being pulled in the rip out to the waiting hands of a hungry sea-witch.

i don’t know when i start talking. more often i sing, because singing in my house is not allowed, and something about the way the rocks echo my voice feels comforting. the older i get, the more i can pretend i hear my mother’s voice, answering me, harmonizing gently. i sing songs about sadness and lullabies about curses. when i have exhausted every song i know, i write new ones about fathers who have never learned how to be kind, about the house i work in but do not love, about mothers who left, and about a sea witch.

i see her sometimes. in a puddle, in the drop of rain, in the strangest places. i never expect it, although i always hope. i am never able to see her for more than the length of a wave, breaking, and each time, it does something new to my heart.

at eighteen i am too much of my father’s burden. he tries to unload me onto other men. the land witch helps me with this. i rub hemlock, burn wolfsbane. we arrange so these men have other women to marry. the news of my curse is bad enough to scare most away. my father is not happy.

after a particularly savage night, i wonder how bad it could be. i could marry some boy from the village who didn’t quite bother me. i suppose they’re not ugly. timothy had always been gentle to me. i think about a life, and how i am cursed to be unhappy. my father would finally be proud of me.

i walk to the beach and i tell the waves about him and how i could convince myself it was love if i just never wanted from him. how i could be okay, if not content, how i could be free, how i already had learned life down on knees.

but i go home and i write a rune of warding. and the years pass and i find reasons each suitor is wanting. and the sea witch i see, sometimes, peeking out at me, staying long each time in the water, looking, watching. i see her in mirrors when my father storms against me. it is bad because he mistakes the cause of my smiling. it is better when she is there the next morning.

and i go to the ocean. when i am too sad to speak, it seems like the ocean is whispering for me. i picture my mother’s voice and tell myself i am happy. i am seven again and we are sewing. i am seven again and the curse has not been given to me. i am seven and she came home after she walked to the sea.

i grow silly, brave, unthinking. i leave behind the herbs and i wade deep. i teach myself the art of swimming. i am bad at it, at first, but something about it feels good to me. like the ocean wants to buoy me. in the day i think of it, guilty. what if there was a rip tide, and the water took me? who would care for my father if i stepped off the beach into a long drop? wasn’t i clever enough to know that the ocean is uncaring?

it is not this that does it. i go out after a rain and i slip on the rocks and suddenly i am in water above my head but without the moon i cannot see the up of it. i kick and i thrash and the water surrounds me. the tide pulls on my body and in the cold i feel my body grow weary. water spills into me. it punches through my body, up my nose and into my lungs and some part of me knows this is what mother felt before she was gone.

i kick ground by accident, reorient, drag myself heaving and spitting into the air. i lie there for a long time, half in and half out of death, enjoying the sensation of breathing and of life.

when i look up, i think i see her, watching me, her brows knit with something like worry. but we make eye contact and my heart leaps and then she is gone and i am left alone with nothing but the dawn breaking.

my father is furious when there is no bread. he finds my hair wet, and the salt of the ocean still smelling on me. and that is it. that day he goes out and pays someone to agree to marry me.

this feels right to me, i think. i’m twenty-one, three times seven, a perfect number for a curse to fully come down on me. i will be wed in three weeks.

the land witch comes to visit me. she looks like she’s sorry for me. she gives me a spell and tells me to put it under my pillow; i’ll dream of love and it will soothe me. instead i dream of the seawitch, and how wonderful she is, and the sight of her, out on the water, worried.

even though it is risky, i go down to the beach. i do not bother with protective spells, i have already seen that the water can kill me. fear alone keeps me from wandering. i sit on the beach and in the sand i draw runes for understanding and i make the small magicks i’ve spent years learning and i close my eyes and i ask the ocean “why do you do this to me.”

i fall asleep. i dream that the sea witch talks to me. i dream she is my age, that she is the great-granddaughter of the first to curse my family. i dream she has spent years watching, learning, finding the truth of me. that she just needs to get the courage to come and speak, that she has fallen in love with my singing, that she knows no curse but the one in her heart that brings her back to a human, to a creature of air and not water, to a mistake in the making.

in the dawn i know it is a dream and no more. i make bread. i pour water out before it can make mirrors. i do not look. i do not like the ache that has filled me, as if i’ve been looking for an answer and the answer only leads to longing.

the man i meet - my husband-to-be - is delighted by the house i keep. he believes a woman should keep in her place, and her place should be clean. he hears from neighbors that sometimes i sneak out to the land witch’s house. laughter barks out of him. not going to allow that behavior, not me. he does not believe in curses. he will pack me up and move me from the ocean to somewhere in the mountains, where i know nobody. and i will, he promises, learn to keep my place, and that place clean.

i tell myself i could love him. he is not ugly. he says i’m pretty enough after whiskey. my father mentions i used to sing. i refuse to perform for these men so instead i make them cookies. they laugh and talk about me, even when i am in the room, as if they cannot even see. they shake hands and talk about how useless a woman is for much else than breeding. it’s very funny. the man meets my eyes and promises he’ll put a baby in me. i look down and pretend the thrill i feel is excitement, not fear brewing in me.

the land witch comes by a week before my wedding. she is smaller these days, aging. her apprentice and i get along wonderfully. the two women stand before me, holding something. 

a small box, so tiny and lovely. “break the curse,” the witch whispers, “learn to be happy.”

i smuggle the box, take it everywhere with me. it is days before i have a moment to slip away, to open it by the sea. i take a candle with me, even though my father will notice and be angry.

by the light of fire i read the spell they have left me inside, and then i am so full of gratitude i cannot stop crying.

it must be a full moon, so i must wait. in the meantime, i walk home, and i bake. 

i do not see the seawitch, even though i look for her. maybe i have wounded her, getting married. my father asks why i keep smiling. i tell him it is because i am finally with a man. he grunts and says to stop looking so silly. 

the man kisses me. i let him. we are married on a night with a full moon, and i poison him and my father in the bread i did not eat. i think of how these men were cursed so they could not see a storm coming. i watch them as they lie there, dying, and then i put all of the things i own into a basket for the land witch. i leave it there with a song i wrote for her, a spell i know will make her happy, will stop the aging of her joints, will give her the kind of relief she gave me. 

i go down to the water. i find myself running, even though i am in no hurry. i know the way so well it is like i wake up there, panting. i ask permission first. i lay out the contents of the box, i organize and practice and when the needle and pain comes, i am ready for it. i am used to pain at night. i breathe into it and walk naked into waters that swallowed my mother.

i chew bitter herbs. i swallow fire. i feel myself drown as i change from land witch to sea witch. 

when it is done, i open my eyes in the deep of a moonlit ocean. and i see her. 

this time she does not flicker. this time when i reach for her, she is there, and she is pushing my hair out of my eyes, and we are kissing with the ocean rejoicing around us, and i am laughing, and i hear her voice as clear as bell inside me.

and we live like this, a whole world between us where white horses are the size of pinky fingers and swim with their thin snouts, where i need no candles because i was raised lightless, where we have no servants but the water takes care of us. i show her the magic of land and she unfolds the magic of water. together we are unstoppable. when i come up to the air to sing little girls a promise that they can survive the madness, she sings with me, and we make a beautiful harmony.

Todrick Hall speaks out about Taylor Swift video backlash

Yahoo Music: So when some people saw you dancing in “Look What You Made Me Do,” they were not pleased, to put it mildly. What exactly happened?

Todrick Hall: They saw a clip, just a few seconds, that featured Taylor Swift standing in a line of dancers, and they started forming all types of conclusions. I was just very confused by that, because I knew that there was nothing “Formation”-esque or Lemonade-esque about the video. Artistically, I didn’t feel that was the case. I’m a humongous Beyoncé fan. I’ve worked with Beyoncé. I’ve choreographed for Beyoncé. And I would never intentionally be a part of art that I felt was ripping off my favorite artist of all time. But I felt like these were two completely different lanes.

“Sellout” was one of the common names you were called.

Yes, one of the main things that people said was, “He wanted to make his money. Well, good for him, he got paid. And I guess payment is enough for you to sell out your family, your people, your community.” But this had nothing to do with money. I didn’t do this Taylor Swift video for money. I did it because she’s my friend, and she was very excited about it. And she wanted people to be there who she could trust, because it was a very big undertaking. I was proud to be there, but money was not a factor for me. I don’t do things for money.

But there are people online who have a problem with the fact in general that you and Taylor are friends?

Yes, I have gotten comments from people who are upset and have literally said the fact that I am friends with a white person is a problem, because white people don’t possess the ability to love or ever truly care about black people. And I find that very disheartening. I’ve grown up in a neighborhood where I went to church with and lived with and went to school with beautiful black people; when I look at them, I see myself. But then I was also in a peculiar situation, because I danced in a dance group where I was the only black person in the dance studio. In some cases, I was the only black cheerleader in my school. I did theater where I was the only black person, the “token black person.” And working at Disney, oftentimes I was the only black person in the show at Disney World or Disneyland on any given day. And I also did tours where I was the only black singer; I did a cruise ship where I was the only black person in the cast. So I’ve been used to being in situations where I’ve had to find friendships and find love and find similarities. My whole brand, everything that I stand for and everything I’ve always stood for, is equality and love. So it’s just really difficult for me to understand why it is an issue for people, a legitimate issue, that I have white friends, and that Taylor Swift happens to be one of my many white friends.

Apparently there’s a thing called the “cookout,” which is like your invitation to be a part of the black community. Some people have, like, deemed themselves the Woke Police, and they decide to strip you online of your invitation to attend the “cookout.” It boggles my mind that people are deciding whether or not I’m down enough, black enough, or woke enough to be “invited.” If I have to hate people and judge people based on their race, sexual orientation, or religion, then sorry, but I’d rather order pizza.

What is Taylor really like? Describe your bond.

What people are mostly forgetting is that Taylor Swift really is my friend. Sometimes because she is a celebrity of such a huge status, inarguably one of the biggest stars of our generation, people forget that there is a human side to her, that she has real friends that she calls and talks to about her real problems. And I call her, and I have cried on her shoulder about my own relationship issues and family issues and career issues. We are friends, and so when she asked me to do this video, I said absolutely. It wasn’t a question for me. I trust her, and I had no problem doing the video. And I just think that it’s really sad and shocking that me doing four eight-counts of choreography is enough to make people feel the need to question my “blackness” or “wokeness.”

Taylor came to see me in Kinky Boots and she stayed after the show for two hours and met every single person in that cast — took pictures, signed stuff, met every usher, every custodian, every orchestra member, every producer and their kids. And then she went outside and met fans outside the theater afterwards, stayed there for over two and a half hours after the show and wouldn’t leave until every single person had been met. There are just very few celebrities in the world who would do something like that. She didn’t have to do that. She could’ve come to the show, said hi to me, and left. That’s just what type of person she is, and what type of person she’s always been. Her parents raised her so well, and when you’re in the room with them, you can feel that energy.

It just is shocking to me that people will see an image of her and hear stories online about her, or arguments with other celebrities who she did not ask to be involved with, who recorded her against her will without her knowing and then decided to release six-second clips of a conversation that happened to paint her to be this evil person that I don’t believe that she is. Come on, we’ve watched millions of episodes of Law & Order or seen Judge Judy a million times; how are they not able to conclude that there is something missing from this? If you feel the need to record someone on video with people there, the intentions may not have been the most pure.

Some of the criticism Taylor has received recently has to do with the fact that she has not been politically outspoken in past years, like some of her peers Katy Perry or Lady Gaga.

Yeah, many people have been tweeting me, “She supports Trump! She probably voted for Trump!” They’re making this huge assumption, when Taylor has never to my knowledge come out and said anything about her being pro-Trump. But people would still rather believe that she is the one who is pushing Trump’s agenda. That was one of the major things that was tweeted at me, and I’m like, “So you are mad that you think she might support Donald Trump? But you’re not mad that Kanye has been very openly pro-Trump?” I don’t understand that.

Look, I’m not Taylor Swift, so I can’t speak for her and why she does or does not choose to speak or not speak about any specific subject matter. All I know is that she has been nothing but a great person to me. Her family has welcomed me into their home and treated me like I was a member of the family. They’ve welcomed every single person I’ve ever brought around them. I’ve never felt like there was ever a moment that I couldn’t be myself, and talk about the fact that I’m gay or whatever. At Thanksgiving, we all sat around and talked about it, and there was another one of her friends there who was African-American, and we all sat down and talked about racism and watched 13th on Netflix and talked about how important it was. It was one of the most beautiful conversations I’ve ever had, because sometimes as an African-American person I feel like I can’t voice my opinion about how difficult it is to be not just an African-American person in the entertainment industry, but how scary it is to be black in America, in even 2017.

When it comes to Taylor, all I know is that she has been a sweet, amazing human being to me. When she calls me, it’s hardly ever to talk about her accomplishments or things that she’s going through. She calls me and says, “How’s your heart? Are you OK?” I’ve been around her an awful lot, and if it were some type of crazy, fake façade, I think I would have figured it out by now. I feel like it’s a genuine part of who she is, and she’s a human being. Has she made mistakes? Yes. Will she make mistakes again? Yes. But let the person in America who has not made mistakes raise their hand.

I think that I’m on my own journey; every artist is on their own journey. Maybe one day, Taylor will start being super-political, and using her voice to do thing that people think that she should be doing. But even then, she will probably be ridiculed for not being vocal enough, or not being on the right side. I don’t think that there is a way to win in this industry, so every person has to take their own journey at their own pace, at their own time, and do what they feel like is right. All I know is that Taylor has been nothing but sweet to me since day one, and if she asks me to do a video, I’m absolutely going be there.

I’m not apologizing for being a part of the video and doing four eight-counts of choreography in it. I thought it was a great piece of art. I thought it was awesome. It’s broken so many records and I’m proud to be a part of it. I don’t think I’ve sold out my race or my community — the gay community, the black community. I think that I was just in a piece of art that my friend made. I’m not issuing a statement to people about it to explain myself, because there’s nothing to explain. I’m not sorry that I did it, and I don’t think that it was a mistake. If I had a do-over, I would absolutely be there for another eight hours, in heels, dancing with her.

Is Taylor aware of the heat you’ve gotten for being in her video?

I have talked to her about it, and she has been very uplifting and given me a lot of information about how when you’re doing big things, there will always be people who have something to say about it. But I think that Beyoncé gave me the best advice when I met her. She said, “Don’t scroll down. Don’t go down and look at comments, and when you do something as an artist, make a decision and stick to it. You don’t need to apologize for things that you’ve done.” I use that all the time.

You have gotten this sort of criticism before.

Yeah. In the beginning, it was because I did videos based on stereotypes of a particular group that put people in a negative light. And so I took those notes, because I consider myself to be a humble person, and I tried to apply them, and tried to do less work on my YouTube channel that stereotyped people, less work that stereotyped my race as being “ghetto” or “ratchet,” because I did understand the argument. I think it’s a really difficult thing when you toe the line with comedy, because there are certain things that some people are going to think is funny, but then some people are always going to be offended. The political climate has changed so much over the past months since Donald Trump became president, and it has just been a very scary place to create content online. So I tried to do whatever I can to create content that everyone can love and that is inclusive of everybody.

It’s just something that I deal with every day. I wrote an album about my life [Straight Outta Oz], about how I fell in love at 19 years old with a boy who was British and who just happened to be white. I wrote a song called “Color,” and in the song I say the line, “You’re my favorite hue.” What I meant by that when I wrote the song was it’s supposed to be a direct relation to the 1939 Wizard of Oz film, and then everything turns to color when Dorothy gets to Oz. I felt like my whole world was black and white before I met this person. But people took that as that white was my favorite color, and that was what I preferred. People have assumed that am the type of person that refuses to date people of my own race or associate with people of my own race. Which, I don’t feel the need to prove to them that I have in fact dated multiple black men and Puerto Rican, Latino men. I’m an equal opportunist when it comes to love. I think everyone is beautiful. You fall in love with a person, not the outer layer of skin.

It’s really frustrating because I don’t think that people realize that when I got to L.A., I lived in not a great neighborhood. A policeman drove up onto a sidewalk, got out of the car, pushed my face on the ground, put my hands on my back, pulled a gun out on me. I have never felt so scared in my entire life. I have witnessed so many things like that. It’s very difficult for me to go and spend time in a predominantly Caucasian neighborhood without the cops being called on me, because people don’t know why I’m there and they think I look suspicious. I have had a lot of issues and dealt with racism in the same capacity as a lot of other people. I have written so many songs, even on Straight Outta Oz, about the Black Lives Matter movement, because it’s something that I’m very passionate about. It’s something that I definitely use my voice and my platform to speak out against. So it’s frustrating that people who have never met me in person like to make huge, incorrect assumptions about me and go and scream them and yell them from the rooftops online.

I just strongly feel that if we can’t get along within our own race, and have to point fingers and yell at people who we think don’t have our back when we don’t know anything about them — we haven’t listened to the facts, we haven’t seen the footage, there are no receipts to show that this person is not a proud African-American person who isn’t down to fight for equality for everyone’s sake — if we fight with each other so much that we’re tearing down our own race and our own community, how does that make us any better than the people in Charlottesville, carrying the tiki torches? How are we any better than those people, and how are we ever going to meet in the middle and finally be able to say, “Let’s be one unified group of people”? I just don’t understand how it’s possible, and that what makes me so upset.

Online outrage is at an all-time high right now, for sure. Everyone is on edge.

I think that we’ve got to figure out a way within our own community to stop tearing people down and stop making assumptions and looking for reasons to be mad. I don’t know what is happening in the world right now, but now is a scary time. People are looking for someone to blame and someone to point fingers at. I don’t think that Taylor Swift is the problem with America right now. People can try to make that be the issue, but there is a much bigger issue here in our country that we need to look at and recognize, and figure out what we can do to be a part of making the world a better place, to be nice and sweet and kind to each other, and to realize that racism is a huge horrible thing that has kept a lot of people down.

But I think it’s going to take every race, every minority, every gay person, every trans person, every straight person, waking up and realizing that we can’t do this alone. We can’t divide into our own little sections and decide that we’re going to secretly hate each other and be mad if one person goes over and shakes the hand of somebody on the other team. We all need to be one team. We all have to go out and extend an olive branch to each other and try to help each other out and try to build one another up. That’s the only way that we can be successful. That’s the only way that we can make this world the beautiful place that God created it to be. Spread love, and love each other. That’s what I try to do.

Did you engage with any of your online critics about this video?

I gave no negative tweets, didn’t argue with people on social media, had nothing to say to them. But I even went so far as to give somebody my phone number online so they could call me and said, “If you feel I’ve done something that’s offended you, or if you could shed some light on as to how me being involved with this video or being friends with Taylor Swift — other than the fact that she is white and you feel that she is the epitome of white privilege, the poster child for white privilege … If there’s anything you can do to shed some light to me as to how I can be a better example for young African-American kids growing up, then I would love to talk to you on the phone.” And I meant it. And I talked to them, and I felt like we came to a good place. I’m a humble person; I’m not opposed to taking constructive criticism.

There was a time two years ago where I would’ve damn near gotten carpal tunnel because I would’ve stayed up all night trying to argue back and forth [on Twitter], thinking, “What would Regina George do?” Now I’m adopting the policy, “What would Beyoncé do?” So I’m going to kill all these people with kindness. I’m going to be nice to them, and I’m just going to prove to them, one by one when they meet me, what type of person I am. Support my friends, be nice to people, and do what I have to do to be a good human being and play my part in society and in this crazy political climate.

Obviously I’m not diminishing the horrible things that have happened to get us to this point, but at this point we have a choice to either band together and fight and talk about the real issues and the real problems, and Taylor Swift is not the problem. If we can all accept the fact that there is a bigger problem and start having dialogue and talking to each other — not just with the people that it’s comfortable for us to talk to, our own people and people who look like us, but to people who might not understand where we’re coming from or what we’ve been through — then we might get closer to making this world a unified place, the way that Michael Jackson sang about in his songs and in his music. While I know that is not the theme of “Look What You Made Me Do,” I do believe that is the theme of Taylor Swift’s heart and the person that she truly is on a personal level.

(x)

A rant that shouldn’t need to be ranted about

I don’t know if a lot of people will read this, but I hope to anyone who reads this takes this as seriously as it should be taken. I would also just like to state that i am NOT being over dramatic, I am NOT going to handle anyones shit if they tell me otherwise.
Yesterday, I was in the train at around 6:30pm waiting for it to start moving just to meet a couple of my friends. It so happens that it was also Pride Day here (in Stockholm, Sweden), hence I was headed to go join everyone at the park. So i’m wearing this blue wrap around type of top, which yes wasn’t “conservative” but i had a leather jacket over it with black high waisted pants. I added a picture of what I wore at the end of this post.  

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brutally honest descriptions of the mbti types based off my experiences with them via a very sleep deprived infp

enfp:

-commitment issues? haha i’ve never heard of those :))))

-will literally punch a toddler in the throat if they say they support trump

-so i took the mbti test 7 times and i got infp twice and entp once?? i don’t really know, because i kind of fit into the infj sterotypes more, but if you really think about it i’m kind of an enfj? but i also really relate to isfps, but then again i think i’m too opinionated and logical to be a feeler, so entp isn’t out of the question, but i also feel like the entj cognitive functions really fit m

-genuinely love animals and it’s so pure

-hi sorry for not replying, i was in prison :3 also i moved to norway lol

-actually just the 2007 taco xd random aesthetic irl

-“i just came up with another book plot” texts approximately every 2.3 hours

isfp:

-hi i’m melissa i’m a 23 year old art school dropout and i abuse prescription pills but it’s okay because i have 200 followers on my grunge aesthetic instagram account. rent me an apartment?

-(talking about veganism to someone at a party) i just don’t understand how anyone could put all of that stuff in their body :/ *bends down to snort a line of cocaine*

-actually really artistically talented but much like the infp they refuse to give themselves any credit for it

-my dream man is someone who goes to coachella with me, helps me align my charkas, takes sad candid pictures of me, is willing to backpack around europe with me and my philosophy class during the summer,

-*googles* why do i share a type with literally every indie musician that has ever breathed lol

-probably fucked your girl in the back of a vape shop

infj:

-if you manage to find one never let them go they are some of the best people you’ll ever meet

-huge harry potter nerds

-can manage to get you to spill out your entire life story to them with a concerned glance

-please actually care for yourself for once and a while literally you do everything for everyone else just take some time for yourself god dammit you deserve it

-CATS™

-could be literally the most talented person in the world but would never come close to admitting it

-hi i’m actually just jesus christ irl! nice to meet you :-)

intj:

-they know everything

-like seriously everything it’s kind of scary like calm down karl

- allows themselves to recognize exactly one (1) human emotion per year

-can read for hours on end without getting bored and genuinely loves learning

-are generally dicks tbh especially to the people they love the most

-wikipedia articles™

-they actually aren’t actually the emotionless robots tumblr seems to display them as, they are actually extremely emotional in my experience and tend to get offended/upset easily and over small things

-sci-fi, cats, and machines > humans

-superiority complex™

-cute when they aren’t busy throwing tantrums/crushing the souls of their enemies

esfj:

-hi i’m martha, i’m 32 years young, i like long walks by the beach, yoga, and judging my neighbors for not mowing their lawn :-)  

-tend to be extra™ parents and their kids can either turn out complete emotional wreck assholes because they’ve never been disciplined or the happiest child you’ll ever meet, there is no in between

-they may be complete snakes and have never came up with an original idea in their entire life but boy can they make a killer chicken parmesan

-kind of comforting in a mother-like sense when they aren’t busy being judgmental dicks

-will clean your entire house for you on a whim

infp:

-wow i love being an infj :)) top 1% haha :))

-will literally develop a crush on someone because they say they know what tumblr is

-find purpose in writing/creating in general

-ending toxic relationships?? haha what’s that??? :))

-constantly switches between their “you can’t control me it isn’t a phase mom go away >:(( my chemical pilots at the disco saved me xd i will literally punch a baby fuck the system i’m 2cool4school” persona and their “i’m such a smol bean :3 save all the animals <333 i love pretty girls and dogs :))” persona

-“can i txt you back in like 15 mins i’m having an emotional breakdown lol”

-actually genuinely empathetic and creatively gifted but gives themself credit for none of it

-intelligent but fails classes because their teacher said something that went against their morals

-playing the victim? never heard of it! :))

-secretly just meme hoarders

-attention whores tbh i won’t even deny it

-o v e r d r a m a t i c

entp:

-hi it’s 6 fucking am and everyone just wants to go back to sleep or die or both but i’m gonna start an argument with the professor over the origin of tangerines for no apparent reason

-*googles* how to permanently get rid of my fe in 5 simple steps

-follow my meme page xd

-so what if i love my dog more than i do myself and my entire family?

-this conversation is boring me i’m gonna go chug a bottle of vodka and binge bill nye the science guy™ peace out

-have low self-esteems but compensate through obscure dark web conspiracy theories at 3 in the morning

-shirley i didn’t call you back because you’re a fake ass bitch not because i didn’t like your lasagna at the block party

estp:

-why do i keep physically abusing my crush lol

-and why do i keep yelling i can’t even stop at this point someone please send help

-they love food more than they do themselves

-fuckboys™

-hi welcome to my prank youtube channel :3

-the type of people to show up to school with 37 puppies and a knife

-i’m not gay but 20 bucks is 20 bucks

entj:

-sorry i didn’t show up to school because you’re fucking stupid

-awe infp is so cute <3 i’ll destroy them last

-*on the floor, drunk, talking to their dog* you’re the only motherfucker in this town who can handle me

-what do you mean other people’s opinions/beliefs besides my own are valid lol??

-lowkey have daddy kinks

-what do you mean it’s physically impossible for me to control every aspect of my life??

-i mean if you really think about it voldemort was the victim,

-the type of person who could tell their crush they like them without flinching. terrifying

istp:

-wears d.a.r.e shirts ironically

-1990’s grunge aesthetic

-would walk into a burning building for the meme

-playing the hero?? haha never heard of it :))

-ew what the fuck man get those feelings away from me lol

-fuck da police

-following the rules?? that seems excessive lmao no thanks

istj:

-i once had one (1) original idea back in the summer of ’67. it was terrifying. i’ll never do it again.

-your scary math teacher that wears black socks everyday expects friday. then they jazz it up a bit with stripes. will mark your grade up if you say you like the same sports team as they do.

-understanding concepts outside of your own experiences? lmao no thanks?

-will make quizlet sets organize your desk for you

-my dream in life is to narrate a crime documentary and complete my george washington memorabilia collection.

-remembers all of their colleagues birthdays. doesn’t say happy birthday.

enfj:

-fucking get over your ex already he wasn’t that attractive calm down allison

-*googles* why do i relate to regina george from mean girls so much?

-the type of person who tells your boyfriend you have a crush on him

-o v e r d r a m a t i c

-gets your shit together for you. judges you

intp:

-dead inside

-if you can manage to find one that actually tolerates you they are some of the most loyal and true people you’ll ever meet

-horrible social skills, compensates through meme hoarding

-sends you links to conspiracy theory videos when you’re sad

-extremely intelligent but they get lost in their own house

-whoops i just remember i haven’t showered in 3 weeks lol

-i would laugh at that joke but i’m 3 hours deep into an existential crisis and i’m 100% convinced you are actually a robot created by bill clinton so not today jeff

esfp:

-yes homo

-cries over cat videos in public

-facetimes you in a grasshopper fursuit at 3 in the morning

-probably an alcoholic

-has 87 different crushes at once

-you haven’t talked to them in 7 years but they’ll show up at your birthday party and give you dog

-also attention whores

-generally has the personality of someone who just did 10 lines of cocaine

isfj:

-one sec let me just gather up all of the fake empathy i can muster for this particular situation

-that one kid in class who always has perfect notes

-shudders at the thought of… a… creative… thought….

-falls in love with an estp approximately every 23 seconds

-hi i’m karen, i’m 34, i love my family, cupcake baking, helping people of course until it interferes with my own personal comfort haha, christmas decorations, room layouts,

-probably has a studyblr

estj:

-your angry boss

-probably cyberbullies children on the internet 

-has an emotional breakdown when they don’t win classroom jeopardy 

-*googles* who is bernie sanders and why do i want him dead

-organizes your shit for you, regrets it later

-dead inside

Construction revenge ten years in making and why I will never have another business partner.

Long story. TL:DR at bottom.

A little over ten years ago, when I was a young carpenter, I met a guy who I’ll call “chad” because f*ck chad.

Chad was a new hire by the company I was working for, and became my helper. We got along famously even though he was 10 years older than me, he didn’t mind working under a 23 year old carpenter as an apprentice.

Chad and I had worked together for 6 months when he brought up the idea of starting a business together, he figured between the two of us, we could easily run a crew and build houses.

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Skyline {VII}

Originally posted by tom-cinnamonroll-holland

Warnings: Language, panic attack

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 3.1k

A/N: Guys!!!! This is the last part of Skyline.  Like, for real this time.  I’m so sad to see it end, but I’m also so happy that it’s had such success, and I can’t thank you guys enough for that.  You are all so so wonderful, and you have all my love.  As usual, I want to give a shout out to Zoe and Jen for reading my drafts and helping me edit and brainstorm, as well as encouraging me to write.  As for all of you, I hope you’ll forgive me for all the angst that I’ve hit you guys with (remember when Skyline was self-indulgent fluff lmao), and I really hope this makes up for it a bit.  In other news, tonight is the Spidereyhes Sleepover!!!!!!!!  All the info on the sleepover can be found here, as well as info about the livestream, which will start at 7pm PST.  I’ll post the link on here!! Zoe, Jen, and I will be discussing all kinds of things, answering questions, and talking about Skyline, so be sure to drop by!!! Also, if you have any questions about Skyline or anything else that you want answered, send it in!!!! It’s not too late yall.  Again, thank you so much, and I hope you’ve enjoyed Skyline as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it.

skyline: a mixtape

{masterlist}

{part i} {part ii} {part iii} {part iv} {part v}

Sitting up in your bed, you stared at the window, not sure of how to react to seeing Spider-Man’s masked face through the glass.  Throwing back your covers, you quietly walked over to the window, grabbing a hoodie that Peter had lent you as you passed your desk.  Sliding the glass panel up, you climbed out onto the metal fire escape, slipping on and zipping up Peter’s hoodie to protect you from the cold.

The superhero stood where he had first stood, the night he saved your life and blew up Vizzini’s all those months ago.  And there, to his right, were the flower pots that he had tripped over the first time he came back for you.  Those stairs were where you would sit and draw while he watched your fingers fly across the page, amazed at the pictures you created.  Behind him was the railing that you would lean against as you looked at the Queens skyline together.  This fire escape was your entire relationship condensed, the one location where you were allowed to be with each other.  If you used your imagination, you could almost see every single night playing out in front of your eyes.  Spider-Man, with a bendy straw underneath his mask.  Spider-Man, attempting to draw you in the moonlight.  Spider-Man, his hand on your waist and the other in your hair. Spider-Man.

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As a fat person who is rarely ever complimented for my physical looks (aside from acceptable compliments for fat people), it drives me absolutely fucking bonkers when conventionally attractive people fish for compliments from me.

They’ve got a whole society that worships their body type and tells them that they’re inherently amazing, just for being born with a good metabolism and no hormonal (or other specific health) issues. But they’re gonna come to me and tell me how they don’t look good, or they feel ugly, or no one loves them, and I’m supposed to make them feel better.

I just want to tell them to open a fucking magazine, or turn on the tv. You’ll get to see virtually every person there looking similar to you. I didn’t see a positive role model (ie. not the butt of fat jokes) that was beautiful and funny and successful and that never had their body questioned and who looked like me till I saw Melissa McCarthy in The Heat (came out in 2013, fyi). I’ve never seen clothing models built like me till last week when I found the GRRRL clothing line (plus size models for most fashion companies are acceptable fat, ie. big boobs and ass, barely a stomach, thick but not too thick legs). As a kid, I never dreamed of being a princess because the only people who looked like me in Disney films were evil, or side characters who took care of the princess.

If conventionally attractive people are looking for a partner, they don’t have to worry about being fetishized, they can be loved for themselves, and their partner won’t be questioned as to HOW or WHY they can love them. Their relationship will not have to be justified or explained, they will not face questions of “so… Like, [the fat partner] is never on top, right?” or “doesn’t it kinda ruin the sex when you can’t just move [the fat partner] around?”. They won’t be the running joke among their friends. If both partners are fat, they get even more wonderful bullshit to deal with. When dating, conventionally attractive people won’t be accused of lying or misrepresenting themselves if they don’t post a full body picture and show up to a date fatter than what the date anticipated. Their bodies do not need to come with disclaimers.

I can count the number of times my former partners told me I’m beautiful without a “but” following it (3. With a “but” following it; 5). I remember almost every compliment given to me by friends that was explicitly about my physical appearence and that didn’t skirt around me being fat (there’s acceptable ways to compliment a fat person. Ie. You have a nice face/personality, that clothing is slimming on you, you look healthy, etc. I’m tempted to include cute, but I’m on the fence about that one)

I’m tired of being the bastion of self love, confidence, and body positivity for people whose only barrier in the way of their own self love and confidence is themselves. I didn’t have anyone to push me to this point where I can love myself and others completely, regardless of size. The only reason I am the way I am is because I’ve made myself this way, facing a society that’s continuously told me it’s wrong to be happy and love myself as I am.

Eight Months.

Even eight months after the break up, Harry still felt the overwhelming urge to check up on you and your life. He would check your social media accounts a few times a week, more so before going to bed when thoughts of you plagued his mind. It felt naughty, wrong in a way; after all, it was him who ended your two year relationship.

*

“It’s never going to change, Harry! Things will always be the same! You ‘forgot’ my birthday and you spent the day with Kendall. You ‘forgot’ our date night and you spent the evening with Cara. I know it’s what the media want and expect from you, and I know management want you to do this, but I think you want to as well” you sigh, the words you had held for so long in your mouth now finally spilling out.

“You’re joking, right? That was a joke? You seriously think I want to spend any spare time I have with Kendall or Cara over you? Management need me to do this, if I don’t, I can kiss goodbye to my pay cheque! Half the things I do in this job is for you! How the fuck else would you get the latest handbags and purses and shoes?! Who else is going to pay for your education? Because I don’t see you or your family offering to cough up!” he spits almost bitterly.

You gasp in shock at his words. He knew your financial situation at home and that your parent’s worked so bloody hard to provide for you, but it just wasn’t enough. Your future career depended on your qualifications, and those qualifications could only be acquired in higher education in which Harry had offered to pay for, before he knew anything about the money side of things.

“Really, Harry? That’s how you feel? You think I’m with you for the money? I don’t give a damn about the shoes or bags and purses or latest fashion trends. I love you because you’re my boyfriend and I see myself living the rest of my life with you. I don’t love you because you’re Harry Styles from One Direction!” you spit back, your words truthful.

“I’ve heard that one before” he tells you, his eyes averting to the floor.

“So now you’ve got trust issues with me? Other girls may have treated you like that in the past, but I’m not like other girls, Harry. Two years we’ve been together and you really think that of me? When you guys broke up as a band, and you didn’t know what was going to happen to your music career, who was the one sitting up with you every night holding you whilst you cried? Other girls would have run a mile because of the uncertainty of your future. I love you even if you have nothing!” you shout at him.

Harry shrugs his shoulders and bites his lip. “Look, it’s not even just this causing arguments. They’ve been going on for a while and maybe having Kendall and Cara as friends is something you can’t handle. But I can’t live my life like this anymore. I’m done arguing with you all the time” he tells you softly.

“You’re making it sound like I don’t want you having friends, which isn’t true. I want you to put me first, like you did at the start of our relationship. You would have done anything back then for me, Harry. I hate arguing with you too. Maybe if we arrange some sort of schedule and arrange dates in advance to see each other?” you suggest.

Harry shakes his head. “I think it’s too little too late, (Y/N).”

You frown, your bottom lip beginning to quiver as you ask the dreaded question. “Are you breaking up with me.”

Harry’s eyes avert to the floor once more and the silence between you both speaks more volumes than words ever could.

*

Your Instagram account had been almost inactive for the first month after the break up, with only the occasional bog-standard photos of new make-up purchases and Starbucks coffee. But no selfies and nothing that indicated any happiness in your life. After three months, your social media accounts portrayed some happiness returning to your life as you took selfies with friends on regular nights out, but Harry knew as well as anyone that social media is one massive cover up for reality. Were you really actually happy? Were you living or were you just alive?

It seemed to him that your life continued to appear happy, but after four months of opening the app, he noticed someone by your side. Photograph after photograph, upload after upload, this person would be stood next to you. You had a side when taking photos with Harry, but now somebody else was standing on Harry’s side, taking his place, standing where he should be standing. Then tagging each other on Twitter began taking place. Simple things such as “coffee dates” and memes.

Five months after the messy break up, Harry sighted a picture of the two of you kissing; you and your new beau, as it was publicised. Your lips on his, no doubt his tongue down your throat and he wanted to vomit. It didn’t make social media, but it made the headlines in the news. The media had left you alone a little while after the break up, but of course, a new relationship for you meant gossip amongst the public, especially One Direction fans and Harry girls, and the tabloids couldn’t resist the opportunity.

Upon reaching seven months, Harry noticed another change in you on social media. You were becoming more and more inactive by the day, rarely replying to tweets and the amount of photographs posted reduced. Anybody else would put it down to business in studying and spending time with loved ones, but Harry knew how much you had loved your interactions on social media, and something didn’t sit quite right with him. But then he remembered that he’s not yours and you’re not his, and you have someone else taking care of you now.

*

Eight months later, and Harry still had you on his mind almost every minute of the day. He would awake in the morning with the help of his alarm but your hair wasn’t sprawled across the pillows as he would expect; he no longer bothered eating breakfast in the mornings; gone are the days when he used keep something warm on the stove for you, for when you awoke, ensuring you had something warm for your hungry tummy in the mornings; he had nobody to send a morning text to. His routine was completely out of sync and nothing over the last few months made it any better.

He would come home every evening to an empty apartment. He had nobody to cook dinner for. He had nobody to talk to about his day. He had nobody to snuggle up to at night. He had nobody to kiss. He had nobody to love and he had nobody to love him.

Some nights would be simple; Harry would climb into bed and flick on the television, watching a favourite film in which he no longer got pleasure out of. He’d check his social media, and then check yours, before setting his alarm and falling asleep, his dreams of you haunting him throughout the night.

Other nights, he’d yearn for you. He loved you, still loves you, and wants nothing more than to hold you whilst you sleep and keep you safe in his embrace. But he would yearn for you in other ways too, awakening in the night from happy dreams of you, his cock hard for you. He would lay awake between the sheets, grinding his hips into them and rubbing himself vigorously as he imagined being inside of you. He would let himself go completely when he could imagine the moans that would leave your lips, the breathlessness you would encounter, and it was as though he could almost feel you come around him.

He hadn’t been in another relationship since the split, but there had been a couple of one night stands. In a way to get over you, ironically, he would fuck others that had similar traits to you. The same hair colour, the same laugh, the same smile. But neither of those girls were you. He didn’t really want them, they just happened along with the alcohol consumption of both parties involved. After two girls, he stopped. He wasn’t sure if it was the reality of the situation that made him stop, or if it was the slap he received one night.

*

The music was pounding against the speaker, the DJ’s were screaming out and giving shoutouts, mostly for people’s birthday’s and other celebrations, bartenders were leaning over the bar in an attempt to actually hear what the customers were ordering in the club, and everyone was like sardines, squashed together, but everyone seemed to be enjoying it and having a good time. Everyone except Harry.

He occasionally moved around and shuffled his feet in an attempt to dance, but he felt so lost without you there. He kept an eye out to see if you were around, almost forgetting that you didn’t go there together. He always used to keep an eye on you, making sure you were safe on the dance floor and that no drunken men took advantage of you. He was your protector. 

“What’s your name?” a young blonde asked. That was the only thing that was same about the two of you. You’re blonde and so was she. But she wasn’t you. Harry wasn’t too sure if she was just acting oblivious to the fact that he was the most famous, most well-known person in the club, or whether she was just so drunk that she barely knew her own name, let alone his.

“Harry” he told her, placing his hand on the small of her back and pulling her closer so as they could hear each other’s spoken words over the thumping music.

The girl nods. “Louise” she tells him. “Fancy getting out of here?” she asks. 

Harry nods. He realises she’s not as drunk as he thought she was, but taking in her features, she looked a few years older than him. Maybe she really didn’t know who he was.

“Mine or yours?” she asks as they stumble out of the nightclub and onto the streets of London. Louise quickly hails a taxi as Harry replies, “yours.”

Whilst his own place seemed more appealing as he wouldn’t have the awkward ‘leaving after a shag’ stage, he didn’t want to take her, or anyone, to his bed. Only you got the privilege to be in his bed. He didn’t fuck anyone else in his bed, only you. He didn’t want anyone else to come in the sheets besides the two of you together and for each other.

The taxi ride back to hers was soon over and they stumbled through her apartment, his lips pressed to hers. Their eyes remained closed as he thought about you. Undressing you. Running his hands up and down your body and caressing your breasts as you laid all bare for him, for his eyes only.

Harry breathlessly pulls aways as he lifts up the miniskirt. They both quickly realise this is nothing more than sex up against the wall. She’s not taking him to bed either, and Harry wonders if Louise is also getting over someone. Within the next thought, he doesn’t care. He does’t love Louise. He loves (Y/N).

The blonde grabs at his belt, unbuckling it and unzipping his trousers, his length exposed to her. He quickly reaches into his back pocket before letting his trousers drop and rips open the packaging. Covering himself with the latex, he soon pushes himself into her. She gasps, taking him in, before moving quickly against him.

They’ve both been drinking and he knows his performance will be affected greatly, so he’s not surprised when he quickly comes inside of her, moaning her name. She gasps and he withdraws from her quickly. Before even getting the chance to dress himself, her hand collides with his cheek.

“Louise! I told you my name is Louise!” she yells at him angrily.

And in that moment, he realises that he moaned your name when he came.

*

He arrived home from the studio and continued his evening rituals. No work the following day meant he could have a later night and whilst he was glad to be able to sleep in later and not have the demands of an alarm clock, he knew from experience that on a day off where he lacked a busy schedule, you would be on his mind more than ever.

The night passed with Harry doing nothing more than eating his evening meal and lounging around in front of the television, flicking through channels to find something to entertain him for a few hours. He occasionally reached for the bottle of whiskey, pouring himself small measures each time. Whilst the drinking had become a regular habit a few months back, Harry had realised that drowning his problems with alcohol helped nobody, not even himself, and he kicked the habit almost as quickly as it had started. No amount of alcohol got you out of his head.

The comedy shows provided some entertainment, and whilst there were a few forced laughs, Harry did find some of the jokes genuinely funny. He couldn’t remember the last time he laughed properly.

Tapping his watch with a yawn, he checked the time. Flicking off the television set, he threw the remotes back on the sofa and picked his body up from the position he had been in for hours. A loud, repeated knock on the door made him jump slightly. The banging got harder and more frantic and he could only wonder who would be calling in on him at this hour. “Alright, I’m coming!” he yelled in frustration. Couldn’t his unwanted and unwelcome guest wait two minutes?!

Heading into the hallway, he unlocked the door, pouting his lips to express his emotion, making sure the person on the other side of it knew he was angry at the disturbance and the complete lack of respect for him and his property. As far as they were aware, he may well have had work the next morning. Swinging the door open,  he gasps, taking in the demeanour of the person standing in front of him, the sight almost killing him as bile rose in his stomach and a nauseous feeling took control of his body.

Imagine being Dean’s daughter and announcing to him that you are dating Jack.

“Him?” Dean’s rough voice broke the heavy silence that had set between the two of you “You are dating him?” he all-but-growled as he stared deeply in your eyes.

“Well, I- I wouldn’t say exactly dating yet, he’s not that familiar with the term and I’m-”

“Yet?!” Dean exclaimed, his voice coming slightly high-pitched “Yet? You mean this will keep going on?!”

“Well, yes dad of course it is!” you huffed, rolling your eyes “That’s why I am telling you, because this is actually important to me. And maybe Jack doesn’t quite understand the terms yet but I know that his feelings are real, that all of this between him and I is real as well.”

“Which again brings me back to my original question: Him?!” he looked at you with so much shock it made you groan and cross your arms over your chest.

“Will you try to be a little less surprised, please? I thought you’d be a little less shocked at your daughter-”

“Dating the son of Lucifer? Oh yeah!” he cut you off full of sarcasm and a hint of angst “Why the hell would I ever mind that (Y/n)?!”

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HOW SKAM’S ISAK AND EVEN REVOLUTIONIZED TEEN TV

The third season of Norwegian teen series Skam dismantled stereotypes, coerced schoolkids into skiving off classes and turned homophobes into rainbow flag-waving defenders—and it first began airing one year ago today. It was the “gay” season, charting the blossoming relationship of Isak Valtersen and Even Bech Næsheim, both coming to terms with their sexuality amidst a cutting background of teenage angst. Taking every fan poll I’ve ever come across into account, season three was by far Skam’s most popular. It broke streaming records in Norway, and television viewership records in neighboring Denmark and Sweden. Throughout its 10-episode run, it hardly left the list of worldwide trending topics on any given social platform.

With a short promo clip that could have been a stand in for a gay snuff film—jockish throbs in a locker room being showered with milk in slow motion—the series wasn’t afraid to shy away from explicitly homosexual subject matter. Or any hot button subject. Homophobia, bullying, mental health—nothing was off the cards for series creator Julie Andem.

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How Skam’s Isak and Even revolutionized teen TV

The third season of Norwegian teen series Skam dismantled stereotypes, coerced schoolkids into skiving off classes and turned homophobes into rainbow flag-waving defenders—and it first began airing one year ago today. It was the “gay” season, charting the blossoming relationship of Isak Valtersen and Even Bech Næsheim, both coming to terms with their sexuality amidst a cutting background of teenage angst. Taking every fan poll I’ve ever come across into account, season three was by far Skam’s most popular. It broke streaming records in Norway, and television viewership records in neighboring Denmark and Sweden. Throughout its 10-episode run, it hardly left the list of worldwide trending topics on any given social platform.

Keep reading

2

Hi, guys! I recently received an ask from @sunny-bunnies about my handwriting and headers! I thought my headers were more interesting (I’ll probably do a handwriting tag eventually haha), and I have a lot that I use so this post would get way long if I did both :)

Anyway, I’m going to go through all of the headers that I use regularly! they’re pictured above with and without shadows as a tl;dr.

monoline: this style is pretty popular right now and is also my current favorite! basically, it’s cursive, but uneven- whenever a letter ends in a downstroke, I extend it a little below where it would usually be and also vary the line on which the letters “sit.” The most important tip for this style is to keep stroke width and letter size the same, so that the unevenness looks intentional and not sloppy.

lowercase: I like to use this one as a subheading! it looks much better in the shadow version but basically you write in lowercase print as neatly as you can and hope for the best.

uppercase: This one can be used virtually anywhere! It’s pretty much writing in all caps; I prefer to stretch it vertically! (If you do this, make sure your letters are vertically centered in the same place! ex. the middle line on the E can go high, low, or in the middle, but it should also match where the bump of a P ends.)

faux calligraphy: (forgive me running out of space on this one oops) sort of like monoline (you can do the cursive evenly, like above, or unevenly), but after you write, go back in and thicken the downstrokes. This is much easier than regular calligraphy if you a. don’t feel confident with your calligraphy or b. don’t own brush pens!

serif 1: this one’s cute and kinda typewriter-ish! just print your letters and add serifs (little mini dashes) to the ends of lines. boom! you’re done. I like to look up a typewriter font to have a reference for the serif length and placement, but tbh it looks pretty good even if you wing it.

serif 2: serif 1 but adding to vertical strokes (note that these are not the same as the downstrokes used in faux calligraphy!) I based this style off of times new roman if you need a reference. A warning about serifs: shadows are a pain to do so if you choose to do a shadow + serif, make sure your header is 10 or fewer letters (you’ll thank me later.)

two-tone: take your faux calligraphy (this works better if you have thicker strokes), draw an imaginary line down the middle, and use a darker color to color over the top or bottom (I favor the bottom but it’s a matter of personal preference!) Layering colors (as opposed to just making each half the letter one color) has 2 benefits: 1. no guesswork in trying to match up halves, and 2. the colors look more cohesive! You can also try to blend the colors together to make a gradient (lay down more of the darker color and blend it upward with the lighter one!)

big & small: uppercase, but instead of adding shadows, add mini cursive letters to the centers of the colored letters. Make sure to connect it all together!

highlighted caps: A classic and perfect if you’re in a rush or doing subheaders. just write in all caps and highlight over it. voilá!

color shadow: I would definitely recommend doing this in a larger space than the one I left myself (check out this post to see it done less sloppily) but the idea is to do faux calligraphy with the black pen and the shadow with your colored pen or highlighter! (here I would generally recommend a gel pen or felt, fine-tipped marker but obviously I didn’t follow either of my own tips so make of that what you will)

a note on shadows: So I’ve mentioned shadows a couple times. Unless you want to make your life hard, do the shadows after the main body of the letter. There are just 3 basic rules I follow here! 1. pick 2 adjacent directions to do the shadows in (above, I picked down and right but you can also pick down and left or, if you’re feeling creative, up and left or right.) 2. For every line, one side should be in shadow. this isn’t a hard-and-fast rule but it’s pretty good to follow in general. 3. Choose a primary and secondary direction! For example, I picked down and right, correct? But if I have a capital A (see “uppercase”) I need to pick between a down/left shadow and an up/right shadow. Since I picked right as my primary direction, I choose the up/right side! This is basically an extension of rule 2 but it took me a while to figure out so I thought it should be included.

Sorry! this post went a lot longer than I had intended, but hopefully it was informative! P.S. if you like my posts, maybe you’d also like my new studygram!

a broken promise- h.s imagine

Harry opened his eyes slowly, his eyes adjusting to the small light that entered his bedroom when Anne opened the door. Anne walked into the room slowly with a glass of water in her hands. She placed it down on the bedside table next to the untouched plate of food she brought up just a couple of hours ago.

Harry closed his eyes once more as he pulled the blanket tighter against his body. Anne took a seat on the bed next to him and began running her hand through his hair. “It’s heartbreaking to see you this way” Anne whispered quietly.

Harry remained silent, used to hearing the same words used by all his friends and family:

“Everything’s going to be okay someday”-How could it be? He just lost his best friend.

“Just know she’s in a happier place”- Could it be such a happy place if she wasn’t here on Earth anymore? “She lived a happy life.” - She could be living a happy, longer life. With him.

Anne’s eyes glanced to the picture frame that was on the bedside table. She stared at the picture taken about three years ago. As she continued staring at the picture, her eyes started to well up with tears.

Y/N was carefully wiping the cake off her nose, careful to not wipe off any of her makeup. Harry was standing next to her, rubbing a towel against his cheek. Y/N looked at him through the reflection of the washroom mirror. “I thought we agreed to not be those cliche couples that smash the cake into each other’s face” you joked.

Harry removed the towel from his face and smiled. “Love, it’s a tradition! Everyone does it on their wedding day” he pointed out as he turned to look at you properly. Y/N let out a chuckle as she threw away the tissue into a nearby trashcan. “Did you really have to smash it against me that hard though?”

Harry walked over to his new wife and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I’m sorry Mrs. Styles. It was never my intention.” Y/N softly smiled as she straightened out her new husband’s tie. “It’s alright. I know you’ll make up it up to me tonight” Y/N  smirked, her hands resting on his chest.

Harry’s eyes went wide as Y/N tried to hold back her giggle. Harry placed his hands on Y/N’s waist, careful not to stand on her beautiful, white dress. “Mrs. Styles, are you flirting with me?” Y/N let out a chuckle before she stepped out of Harry’s hold. The newly wed couple exited the washroom and began walking towards where the reception was being held.

Just before they waked in, Harry turned to his wife. “Ready?” Y/N smiled as she nodded her head, “Always.”

The room was filled with friends and family. Everyone static to celebrate Y/N and Harry’s love. There was a sense of happiness that floated around the room. One of the photographers noticed the couple walking in. Immediately he pulled out his camera, “Smile, lovebirds!”

Harry pulled Y/N close to him, his hand on her waist as he placed a kiss on the cheek. Y/N placed her hand on Harry’s check as she looked at the camera and smiled.

Anne fiddled with her fingers on her lap. Lately it’s been hard talking to her son. For all his life, he could talk to her. When he was little and got a scape on the knee, she could put a bandaid on it and everything will be right in the world. When he was a teen and just experienced his first heartbreak, Anne was the one to tell him there were so many other fishes in the sea and to stop dwelling on someone that wasn’t worth his time. When Harry first introduced Y/N to Anne, she was the one that told him that Y/N was special and to never let her go.

What was she supposed to do when he lost his wife?

Harry opened his eyes, his eyes looking everywhere else but at Anne. “Mum, just…I want to be alone.” Harry’s raspy voice let out as he buried himself more into the blankets on the bed.

Anne bit her lip as she nodded her head. Quietly she let herself out of what used to be Y/N and Harry’s shared room.

Harry ran his hand over his face, his bloodshot eyes staring at the papers in front of him. Gemma and Anne quietly sat on both sides of Harry, watching his every move.


“Would you like the deceased to be buried or cremated?”

Harry closed his eyes to prevent the tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. He took a deep breath, his leg beginning to bounce as his hands began to shake.

Gemma cleared her throat. “Buried,” Gemma whispered quietly. Anne reached over and grabbed Harry’s hand. Her heart filling with sorrow.

The funeral director nodded. His mouth set in a straight line. “Will you be going with the traditional ceremony with a casket present or not present?”

Suddenly, Harry stood up and walked out the room. Gemma was quick to go after her younger brother while Anne stayed back with the director.

“Harry!” Gemma called out as Harry was pacing out the door. Gemma placed her hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to slow down. Harry turned around and quickly hugged his sister as he sobbed into her neck. Gemma was quick to wrap her arms around him, her own tears began to pour.

Gemma walked down the stairs, a baby monitor in her hands. Y/N was sitting down on the couch sipping a glass of wine. Gemma let out a breath as she plopped down next to her. “Little bugger is finally asleep.”

Y/N smiled. “You have a beautiful little girl, Gem.” Gemma turned her head and smiled at Y/N. “Thanks love but trust me, when you and Harry have children of your own, they’ll be absolutely gorgeous.”

Y/N blushed at Gemma’s words. Her finger tip tracing the wine glass. A moment of silence passed before Gemma finally spoke up. “Have you guys talked about having children?”

Y/N sighed. “We have. But…I don’t know if we’re quite ready.” Y/N admitted as she turned her body towards Gemma and leaned her head against the couch.

Gemma picked up her own wine glass before turning to Y/N as well. “You guys have been married for two years now. Surely you guys are ready.” Y/N shook her head as she stared into her glass. “His album is almost about to release. Then he’s going to have to go on press tours, then soon enough an actual tour. He’s going to be gone for a long time. I don’t think I can handle being pregnant by myself yet alone care for a newborn.”

Gemma nodded, her mind flashing back to when she first had her daughter. She doesn’t know what she would’ve done without her husband helping along the way. “I think you and Harry are able to take over the world.”

Y/N let out a chuckle. Gemma shook her head, “No, I’m serious. It’s hard and almost rarely seeing a love that you and Harry have. It’s the kind of love you see in movies. I don’t think anything or anyone can ruin that. Having a baby, having children will bring the two of you closer if humanly possible. And Y/N, I know my brother will love that little bug more than life itself. I know he’s willing to drop anything and everything for you. I believe in you guys.”

Y/N’s head tilted as she smiled at her sister in law. Careful not to spill her drink, she leaned over and pulled Gemma in for a hug. “I think the best part of marrying Harry was getting you as a sister.” Y/N admitted. Gemma softly smiled as she returned the hug.


Harry walked into his room and shut the door. He instantly went to Y/N’s side of the bed. He didn’t bother taking off his clothes nor did he bother wiping his tear stained face. He had an excuse. He just came back from Y/N’s fucking funeral.

Harry looked over to Y/N’s bedside table. Everything remained untouched from the last time Y/N was here. Y/N’s reading glasses were on top of her favorite novel that she’s read too many times to count. Her favorite candle to light around fall was halfway gone. There was an empty glass that was always filled because she would  always be incredibly thirsty when she woke up in the morning.

Lying on the middle of the table was Y/N’s engagement ring.

Harry demanded that Y/N was buried with her wedding band on. In his head it meant that Y/N would be with him forever. Harry picked up the engagement ring. As he stared at the beautiful ring that took a pretty big chunk out of his bank account, memories of his marriage started to play in his head: how he asked Y/N’s parents for her hand in marriage, how he picked out the ring with both Anne and Y/N’s mother, how he proposed, how Y/N looked when he got down on his knee. He thought about the pride he felt when he would hold Y/N’s hand and feel her ring on her, he thought about the fights that only made them stronger. He thought about how he was supposed to fucking grow old with Y/N. He thought about it all.

And it killed him.

“Gah!” Harry yelled out in frustration as he threw the ring across the room. Harry wrapped his arms around himself as he laid his head against Y/N’s pillow, her smell still lingering. Harry let out a sob. He stared at the ceiling. “You promised! You fucking promised!” Harry yelled through his sobs, his hands flying to his face.

One night when Harry and Y/N were both 18, they took a drive together. They let the night carry them away. The car ride was filled with laughter, smiles, story telling, happiness. They drove until they were miles away from the city. They were driving away from all their troubles, promising to return.

Eventually they stopped in a field a hundred miles away from civilization. The only light was from the lantern Harry kept in his car for emergencies. Harry and Y/N were laying on the hood of his car, staring at the million of stars in front of them, something you would never be able to see in a busy city like London.

“Does it ever scare you?” Y/N whispered, her eyes never once leaving the beautiful sight in front of her. Harry looked over at his girlfriend, his eyebrows raised. “About what, love?”

Y/N looked at those beautiful green eyes she would always get lost in. “About how fast everything is changing for us?”

And things were changing. Harry was in one of the biggest bands in history, their success growing more and more each day while Y/N tackled the hardship of being a uni student. It was a sore topic. To talk about the idea of someday growing apart.

Harry nodded his head as he gave Y/N’s hand a squeeze. “Sometimes it scares me. It scares me how much I love you. How much I adore you. How I couldn’t see myself with any other person than you.”

Harry’s words brought a smile to Y/N’s face. She leaned up and looked at her boyfriend. “I will love you forever, Harry Styles.”

Harry leaned up, a smile decorated on his face. He brought Y/N’s hands to his lips, placing a kiss on it. “Promise me something, petal?” Y/N nodded her head, “Anything, H.”

“Promise me no matter what obstacles come our way, no matter what life throws at us, no matter how many people are telling us no, promise me. Promise you’ll never leave me.”

Y/N smiled. This was a promise she would be sure to keep. Nothing would make her say otherwise. She placed a small kiss on Harry’s lips. With her forehead leaning against his, “I promise.”

Harry pulled his knees to his chest. He began to rock back and forth, the tears never leaving his eyes. Through his sobs, Harry whispered to himself, “You promised.”


eh idk. is this too repetitive to the things i write? lol at first i was like damn this gonna be good but then i was like oh god AM I SELLING OUT. 

idk! let me know what you guys thought! 

you can find the rest of my writing here 

Lie to me - Dean Winchester x Reader - Chapter 3 (French Mistake AU)

Title: Lie to me

Pairing: Dean/Jensen x Reader x Sam

Word Count: 4,985

Warnings: None

Imagine: Imagine Dean and Sam getting transported to the French Mistake universe. Only for Dean to realize he is married to you, his best friend, love of his life and… Sam’s girlfriend.

Great thank you to @gaveherhearttotheliontattoo for being an amazing beta!

Read Part 1 here! l Read Part 2 here!

“What’s this?” his voice was shaking and as soon as you took notice of what he was talking your eyes widened.

“Oh crap, was that there all this time? I would have ruined the surprise.” you exclaimed, rushing to his side to take the photo – let’s say – from the fridge.

“Wait- wait-” Dean blinked “What surprise?”

“What do you mean?” you looked up at him, truly perplexed “The surprise. You know the one we have for Jared and Gen and practically everybody else in our fam- Alright, what is going on Jensen?”

“I’m- I’m alright, it’s just that-” he shook his head “I’m sorry it feels almost as if I’m not- not myself today.” he cleared his throat and in the end you sighed, giving him a sympathetic look.

“Baby” you cupped his cheek “Do you need to get some rest? Honestly just-”

“No, (Y/n).” he shook his head, cutting you off softly as he took a hold of your hand “Just- can you tell me what this is?”

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Never Let It Get Personal - Mitch Rapp

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Mitch Rapp/Reader

Word Count: 16,419

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Multiple Orgasms, Fingering, Bondage, Oral (both receiving in the form of a 69), Sweet Sex because I’m a sucker for their romance???, Sassy reader, violence and blood because they are assassins.

Notes: Why do I do this to myself? 16.4k later and it’s done. But I really liked this idea. It’s a lot of plot with a smidge of sexy smut because I love Mitch Rapp. But he’s also hella loving. And angry. And I owe @minhosmeanhoe a lot for talking through this idea with me. She is a saint and my Rapp twin. I love her. I hope you guys love this and think it’s worth it.

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How to Make Your Descriptions Less Boring

We’ve all been warned about the dangers of using too much description. Readers don’t want to read three paragraphs about a sunset, we’re told. Description slows down a story; it’s boring and self-indulgent. You should keep your description as short and simple as possible. For those who take a more scientific approach to writing fiction, arbitrary rules abound: One sentence per paragraph. One paragraph per page. And, for god’s sake, “Never open a book with weather” (Elmore Leonard).

But what this conventional wedding wisdom fails to take into account is the difference between static and dynamic description. Static description is usually boring. It exists almost like a painted backdrop to a play. As the name suggests, it doesn’t move, doesn’t interact or get interacted with.

There were clouds in the sky.
Her hair was red with hints of orange.
The house had brown carpeting and yellow countertops.

In moderation, there’s nothing wrong with static description. Sometimes, facts are facts, and you need to communicate them to the reader in a straightforward manner.

But too much static description, and readers will start to skim forward. They don’t want to read about what the house looks like or the stormy weather or the hair color of each of your protagonist’s seventeen cousins.

Why? Because they can tell it’s not important. They can afford to skip all of your description because their understanding of the story will not be impacted.

That’s where dynamic description comes in. Dynamic description is a living entity. It’s interactive, it’s relevant. It takes on the voices of your narrators and characters. In short, it gives us important information about the story, and it can’t be skimmed over.

So how do you make your description more dynamic so that it engages your readers and adds color and excitement to your story? Here are a few tips.

(I have a TON more tips about setting and description. These are just a few. But I’m trying to keep this short, so if you have any questions or want more advice about this, please feel free to ask me.)

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Unexpected Alliance

Request: “I have a request for Pennywise, lovely author! The reader was bullied by Bowers and his group, they accidentally killed her, and left under the Kissing Bridge. Pennywise helps her, because he feels her urge to have vengeance.on them. He’s happy about his insane, little girl. I want this to be pretty crazy and unstable, yet in their own way — lovely. Love your work! Keep it up, talented woman!🎈💝”

Pairing: Pennywise x Reader and slight Stan Uris x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death and violence

A/N: I currently have 9 requests in my inbox idk how many I will be able to complete today but since I get homework on weekdays for school I’ll probably only be able to post one imagine everyday throughout the week instead of 4 imagines in one day I’m sorry but I hope you all understand. 

You were beautiful to say the least and incredibly smart you had both beauty and brains. Every guy in Derry High School wanted to have you and every girl wanted to be you. For years ever since you were little you always rejected Henry Bowers, he wanted something with you but of course you didn’t. Over the years you had developed a crush on Stan Uris. 

Yes the Jewish handsome boy that sometimes got made fun of was the guy that had won your heart. You knew he also felt something for you because his friends would constantly tease him every time you were around him. They also confirmed that he was crushing on you and that Stan was just waiting for the right time to ask you out. Yay!

“Have a great summer Stan.” You smiled as you walked out of the school with him. It was finally summer break!

“Thanks you too I hope I’ll see you around?” He asked.

“Of course I’d love that.” You smiled.

“Would you like me to walk you home?” Stan asked.

As much as you wanted him to you noticed his friends all staring at him from across the street waiting on him or trying to read your lips to know what you were talking about. Who knows.

“No don’t worry about it go with your friends they’ve made it pretty obvious that they have a lot to talk to you about.” You giggled.

You were referring to the insane amount of questions the boys would ask him. What were you guys talking about? Did you ask her out yet? Are you going on a date? Will you be hanging out together over the summer? The list goes on. 

“No no it’s fine I can hang with them all later.” Stan said.

“Stan.” You said placing your hand on his shoulder before continuing to talk. “It’s okay don’t worry I can handle myself I’ll be fine.” You smiled.

Stan looked at you with a concerned look before he finally said, “Alright just please be safe and careful I’ll see you later?” He asked.

“Don’t worry I will and definitely.” You kissed his cheek and grinned like a cat when you noticed he was blushing like madly.

You winked at him before going down the school steps and making your way home. Not before glancing at Stan’s friends and saw that they were smirking at what had just went down, you giggled silently while shaking your head.

Unfortunately your excitement didn’t last long your wide smile faded when you heard Henry Bowers’ car make a loud screech sound as he stopped the car. You took off running as he stepped out of his car.

“Get over here you bitch!” He exclaimed as he took off running after you.

Your running didn’t last long because he tackled you to the ground before throwing you over his shoulder. You kicked and punched him trying to get him to let go of you. Fortunately he did. Unfortunately he threw you into the back of his car, the trunk more specifically and took off driving. What the hell.

You tried lifting the hood of the trunk but obviously it was no use. You whimpered in fear not knowing what he was going to do to you. Finally the car came to a stop, you heard Henry’s footsteps approach the trunk. He opened it and pulled you out of it grabbing your arm and your hair with his hand.

“Hurry up bitch let’s go!” He said angrily as he led you to the kissing bridge.

He pressed you up against the fence and pulled out his knife clicking it out of it’s case.

“Do you know why we’re here?” He asked.

“No.” You whimpered, 

“Well I’ll tell you why. You have been rejecting me for years constantly over and over again but then when little Stanley comes into the picture you FALL FOR HIM IMMEDIATELY AND GIVE HIM THE ATTENTION THAT I WANTED!” Henry exclaimed as he pressed the knife up against your neck.

“Because he’s more of a gentleman than you’ll ever be. He doesn’t terrorize kids or leads a gang full of assholes and morons. I’d rather be with him then you anyother day.” 

Henry raised his arm and slapped you across your face. You whimpered in pain as you grabbed your cheek you could feel a large bruise forming already.

“You’re going to fucking pay for that you bitch. If I can’t have you then no one can.” Henry raised the knife over his head. Oh hell no you weren’t about to die like this.

“No!” You exclaimed.

You raised your legs up to kick Henry causing him to fall on his back. Unfortunately for you the impact was so hard that you flipped over the wooden fence and tumbled down a large steep hill. You could feel the leaves, rocks, and wooden objects hitting your body as you continued to roll down. Once you finally came to a stop you were unconscious. 

Noticing this Henry ran inside of his car and took off leaving you to die all by yourself. Well that’s what he thought, far away but close enough to hear the dialogue that you and Henry had exchanged was heard by a clown. He made his way over to your unconscious body picking you up.

“Although your unconscious I can feel your anger raiding off of you. I’ll bring you back so you can finish him and his little friends off.” Pennywise smirked.

He went over to the small stream with running water, he set your body down and placed his hand on your chest trying to get your heart to pump. It took several tries but finally he did it. You gasped as you opened your eyes and flailed in the water. You stopped once you noticed who was looking at you, a clown. You backed off in fear walking backwards.

“It’s okay I’m not going to eat you.” He reassured.

“I know who you are why should I believe you!” You exclaimed.

“Because even though you died I didn’t eat you I could’ve but I didn’t okay.” Pennywise said.

“Well no one told you to revive me but here we are.” You said crossing your arms.

“A simple thank you could’ve been great. Now I’m starting to regret not eating you.” Pennywise huffed.

“Thank you there I said it now why did you save me?” You asked as you sat down on a large rock as you squeezed your hair trying to get the water out of your locks.

“I saw what that jerk Henry Bowers tried to do and did to you I could feel your anger so I was thinking I’d spare your life so you could get back at him.” Pennywise explained.

“So you want me to get back and him and maybe his friends as well so you can have your little all-you-can-eat buffet then go hibernate again?” You asked.

“Mhmm and that way I won’t have to feast on innocent little kids I can feast on the morons who don’t deserve to live.” He smiled.

“I think I’m going insane I’m actually thinking about accepting the offer.” You said shaking you head. 

“Well then accept it, he could’ve killed you and you would’ve never been with your precious Stanley Boy if I hadn’t saved you. You’re alive because of me so go and teach that Henry Bowers a lesson. You wouldn’t have been able to do that if he killed you.” Pennywise said as he placed his hands on your shoulders and whispered into your ear.

“Okay fine deal. I’ll take him and his little friends out then they’ll be all yours.” You stated.

“But what if his friends try to protect him?” Pennywise asked.

“If they try and protect him then we kill them.” 

“I like the sound of that who knew you had this in you.” Pennywise was fascinated he never knew that a sweet and gentle girl like you could have such a dark. mysterious and disturbing side. 

“Looks can be deceiving.” You smirked. “Now I better get going.” You continued.

“Leaving so soon?” Pennywise asked.

 “I’m supposed to meet up with Stan he is not going to be happy when he sees this.” You huffed.

“Okay partner I’ll see you around.” Pennywise said as he waved.

“Definitely.” You smirked as you walked away.