social-edge

I think Michelle is MJ, and it would be a great idea if the writers went that way! I mean, Michelle is a bookworm, she’s reserved, her humor’s very dry, she hardly has that many friends, and she’s extremely introverted! Even though Mary Jane is like the toooootal opposite and is in fact a social butterfly with an edge—which perfectly balances out Peter’s personality—there’s no way Michelle can’t be her, right?
—  said no one ever.
some thoughts about jaylah the magnificent

- Within her first week at Starfleet Academy, Jaylah hacked into the environmental controls and security systems of her dorm– because she was bored and twitchy, because she didn’t know what to do with a home she had not taken apart and re-wired herself. 


- She broke into the cafeteria after hours and told herself it was just to see if she could. She skipped class to go wander the streets and build a map of the city, of these concrete canyons and glass-and-steel cliff walls, of which way she would run if she needed to. She played her music too loud. Kirk wrote her from deep space, further and further away as the months and maydays of their mission moved on, to ask if she was trying to beat him in demerits earned in an Academy tenure. She took that to mean he approved.


- Jaylah had had a big brother, once. Elah had taught her about engines, about how to wrestle, and a lot of really terrible jokes, once. But Scotty walked her through the Enterprise’s engines, when she was rebuilt and shining. They got grease and fluids all over their overalls. Kirk and Spock sparred with her while they waited for the Enterprise’s next mission to come through– Academy martial arts and Vulcan holds and corn-fed Iowa brawling tricks. Uhura provided the bawdy humor, parsed out smugly at the edges of social gatherings. 


- They had set the ruins of the Franklin up as a museum, tucked into the floating bubble of Yorktown. Schoolchildren would take field trips to wander the halls of her house. They invited her to the opening ceremony, cut the ribbon while she and the Enterprise crew were still wandering, limping, through those clean curving streets, but she did not attend. 


- Instead Scotty showed up at her doorstep with a bottle of Scotch stolen from Chekhov. They played her music so loud it shook the walls and earned them a dozen pissed off texts from Bones and a single sternly disapproving note from Spock. They ignored them all and toasted the Franklin, a good lady, a fine home. 


- When Jaylah boarded a transport ship for Earth, for California and San Francisco and the Academy that lived in the shadow of that golden bridge, the whole surviving crew of the Enterprise came out to the loading dock to wave her good-bye. It had been so many years since she had known any faces so well, living, other than her enemies’. She pressed up against the window and watched them– peach and blue and brown and black and green– disappear. 


- No matter how hard she fought and hoped, she had thought she would never get off that planet. The moment she saw her father go down, she had thought she would never be able to survive that stab in his gut, that light that went out of his eyes. She had been small, willow limbs and shaking hands, and she had thought she would never see another sky again. 


- She got up early on cold mornings and walked through the swirling San Francisco fog. She greeted the sun as it climbed up over the Bay and burned the sky back to blue. 


- The crew pooled their credits and bought her a motorcycle for her next birthday, to replace the one they’d left on the planet. Jaylah had left a lot of things in that boneyard. She drove the steep streets on her humming bike and felt like perhaps she had not left everything. 


- When Jaylah took the Kobyashi Maru her final year, she watched her classmates complain and rant afterward about unfairness, about no win scenarios. She did not speak up, just took her results and left. The lesson was one she had already learned, already buried in herself. Sometimes you cannot win, no matter how good you are, no matter how brave, no matter how much you love your daughter and want to live and live and live for her. Sometimes all you can do is die the best way you know how. 


- (When the ruckus had finally died down on Yorktown Base, after the smoke had settled, after the crowds had parted, Jaylah had seen Demora Sulu run to her father’s arms. She had seen Hikaru kneel in the rubble and lift his daughter into his lap and hold her safe in his arms. She had thought, I would have died for this. I am alive, and I am glad, but I would have died for this, I would have, I would have died for this)


- (Her little sister Jessy had been about Dem’s age, the last time Jaylah had seen her alive). 


- She didn’t declare an emphasis in her Academy studies for two years. Scotty thought she should go into engineering, because as a traumatized, escaped child she had reverse-engineered repairs on the Franklin that could only be matched by his own genius. Kirk thought she would make an excellent command officer. Uhura, impressed by how she had taught herself Federation Standard from the Franklin’s logs, made sure the communications department paid friendly attention to her. 


- Instead, Jaylah took the introductory classes for every field of study in the Academy, ignoring the disapproving cries of her guidance counselors. In combat she was years ahead of her peers. She found languages easy, but their technical underpinnings were unengaging and confusing. In engineering she was gifted, but decades behind the state of technology. Scotty had happily dragged her through the Enterprise’s rebuilt engines, but her heart and her blackened fingers would always belong to engines lifetimes older.


- The Enterprise crew were on their second five year mission when Jaylah graduated from Starfleet Academy. They gathered in the main mess hall, all the crew that had survived the Enterprise’s first death, and the new crew members who had heard stories of this adopted daughter of the ship for years. They live-streamed the ceremony. Scotty wore a ‘PROUD BIG BROTHER OF A STARFLEET GRADUATE’ shirt Sulu had hand-lettered for him. Bones opened a bottle of good ol’ Earthside bourbon and pretended not to tear up when her name was called. 


- She wore medical blue.  


- After years of Academy schooling and medical training, Jaylah stepped onto a Starfleet ship, her badge pinned to her chest. The corridors curved into the distance. The lights hummed and lit up as the ship floor murmured under her feet. It felt like coming home. 


- But there were no rocky hills out her shipboard window, no dull sky, no shimmering shield to hide her from her enemies. There was just space– black, cold, endless; brilliant, star-studded; full of discovery and danger and things worth dying for. She was ready to boldly go. She was ready to bravely go. She had thought she would never see another sky and here she was, older than her oldest brother had ever gotten to be, with hands that could defend lives and save them and heal them. The universe was spreading out before her, endless stars lighting the skies of endless planets. She was ready. 

I see everything, all sides, all facets, everything all at once, and, because of this, I feel I can never truly participate, I am always an outsider, my opinion is never truly welcomed, because I see it all before it unfolds, I see both inner and outer and all of the masks before a word is even spoken, I sense the shifts in tone, in energy, in the way you stumble on a certain word or vowel sound. I am a sleuth who never asked for the job who cannot help but see clues rising up before me, screaming in my ears, dancing on my tongue, tingling on my skin. I stand on the edge of social, an inch, at least, away from the line, because it’s better for us all. If you knew what I know, you wouldn’t want me around, telling you inconvenient truths, storing up your secrets in the unrelenting trap of information of my mind. I did not ask for this unforgiving gift, but neither did anyone else, so I stay silent, I slink away back into the black of lonely where I learned to live and to be and to understand why fortresses are better than fields. I am not cold. I am kind. And that is why I let you think whatever you want about me. I know the truth. I know who I am. And who you are, and who she is, and him, and so forth. And I don’t want you to bear the burden of it. I carry the world.

A collaboration between myself, and @varvau

Story is conveyed and built with uncountable methods. A creator’s ability must transcend the Great Lie into Great Truth through varying degrees of Originality, often misidentified with the expression, “Everything’s been done, nothing new.” Lottery ball machines are, mostly, identical but their drawn numbers are unique. Traditional weddings in the Americas happen every week; no two are exactly the same. Originality concerns execution, not the fact something exists. With execution comes perspective. 


Ponder the story above. It is about trade, or is it? Certainly a subject, this trade, for an exchange of items is quite occurring. One could prattle endless an account of these creatures sharing daily trade with nothing more said. If that be the inclination expressed, all within earshot must question the extent of that speaker’s exposure to other cultures and their varying forms of relaying information. 

“But, this is a piece of fiction, it’s not serious!” speak many detractors of those seeking to create stories and worlds for a living, and later express devout love for, you guessed, another work of fiction. Twelve years ago, as of this writing, I was told by a doctor, who knew me since Grade V, my pursuit in creating stories and worlds was a “fantasy”, that I should speak with her whenever I “wished to return to the real world”. Quite, she did not believe in the profession of writing in general. Her entire practice depends on literature. That she worked with youths only increased the importance of fiction in their development—yet there she was, advising someone against creating new things, and making their own life decisions. I had, some years earlier than this encounter, decided for myself the what’s-to-do. I’ve not revisited that doctor, and never will.

Works of fiction are quite real for their creators, and some refer to their work as children. Readers identify with fiction for various reasons, and to them it may be more real than what is. A fictional world can be fabulous or grotesque, and still escape from ugly reality. Experiencing a foreign culture grants the same effect. One can tell a good story alone, a great story set in a well-designed world, or if they choose: deliver an immersion in time and place. The decision depends on goals.

Suppose you were dropped there, in that market, without knowledge of local culture, and didn’t die of shock at the sight of non-human beings, who bear likeness to our feral beasts, engaging in very human-like behavior. They don’t speak your language, no guides exist in your first, second, third, or any language familiar. Perhaps, you’re a linguist and realize none of their languages match recognizable lingual families.


In your face there’s scent as language, unless they’ve come to ignore or subdue natural body odor as humans did. It doesn’t factor within your ears, the possibility they employ hypersonic and subsonic sounds humans cannot perceive without specialized equipment, but—oh dear— you’re not naturalist with such equipment or deign leave a comfortable living for work in the middle of nowhere without many modern conveniences.

You quickly realize they posses no mobile phones, digital music players, any sort of advanced electronics, the internal combustion engine, telegraphs and wire transfer, gas lighting, and manure piles in the streets from who-knows-what that pulls their carts—if they did, then a copy- paste from the human world they wouldn’t be. How ever will you survive when so much isn’t

standard for your time and place? Maybe you should “try everything”, the worst advice ever given, except on desperation or a four-for-one sale at Inspired By de Sade. Following it may result in your demise.

The Didelphimorph on the right sells textiles and foodstuffs. Isn’t that nice? But…can you eat, let alone touch it? Is the Caniform vulnerable to certain foods the other may consume without problem? We’ve plants here, on Earth by example, quite hostile. Nasty little things like Gympie (Dendrocnide moroides), a perfectly normal horse-killer from hell that inflicts enough pain victims prefer suicide. Or, perhaps, your fancy is Manchineel (Hippomane mancinella), the adorably named Beach Apple. That one, dear, is truthfully a botanical death machine: a drop of moisture runoff from this tree blisters skin and corrodes automotive paint. Do you want to blister skin and corrode automotive paint? That’s how you blister skin and corrode automotive paint.


And don’t even think about the water. Travel between countries on your own planet, and you’ll find water of varying qualities to which the local population is immune, but you are not.

Your advantage is disadvantage. For the purposes of this example, they’ve no idea you’re even present. And, in regards to this specific civilization, where would you be without Jerome and myself? We’re to blame for dragging you into this otherworldly soiree where you’ve stuck a spoon in the ceiling but hey, you’re still alive. What’s mundane and automatic for this place is unknown for you: a language of Color, Shape, and Posture.

Let us start with the Caniform left, so eager to spend money. Upon his cape are two layers. Green, in local culture, is life and fertility while Brown’s is commonality of the every day. Technically, it is an off-white baize, but still counts as Brown.

That he wears a cape, not a tunic, tells of simplicity, good spirits, and the colors that he is newly wed and possibly expecting to become a father or has adopted a youth. The ceremony was not extravagant, a casual affair with a small number of close friends and relatives. Take note: local culture. His own native, that he’s possibly abandoned, may not define marriage in the same way, or practice it. Their definition of the “family unit” having two parents may not be.

Continuing down to his pantaloons, here again Green, and White. He comes from a lineage of relatively healthy individuals for legs carry the continuity of bloodlines. White is preparedness, but may speak inexperience and innocence towards the large change in his life. The Black tassels on the closure of his satchel indicate he contemplated life behind a sword; that they dangle free means he chose against, for warriors don’t wear needless items an enemy could grab and use against them.


On Shape, the leading edge of his cape being that color proclaims he’s nothing hidden and the vertical lines in his pantaloons speak twice: Green for a very stable family with little to no internal drama. White for a family young, perhaps 1-3 generations old, not big enough for a massive number of non-immediate members. 

On Posture, outwardly it is engaged in business. His open paws forward money and show he intends no harm. That he stands over the Didelphimorph is protection—he’s watching for anyone who’d steal. If he were bent, leveling their eyes, then an abrasive or unfriendly challenge it would become.

The Didelphimorph also wears a shade of White upon his legs, inexperienced where he is, possibly having moved from another region, or country, and is learning this new place. 

Upon his tunic is the survival and security of Blue. By wearing it close to his face, he proclaims status as a merchant who will not price gouge, dependable with good reputation of maintaining stock, and believes in honesty first. The shade lacks vividness; he is not fond for usurping local government. Here, wearing complete vivid blue on more than 25% of one’s clothes is punishable by execution. The golden bangle indicates prosperity, and that he recently wed.

On Shape, the off-white motif of an arch on the tunic suggests inexperience or preparedness in one particular aspect. The style refers to a building designed for residents, and he has acquired a living space. However, in local mental health definitions of shape, it means “halfway to stability”. This creature suffered from something tragic or debilitating in his past, but has over come it. That the arch is placed on the sleeve indicates confinement of some kind, either physical or social. The leading edge, also of the same color, reinforces his honesty as like the Caniform’s cape reinforces simplicity. Upon his bangle, the circle in his native culture describes a marriage under strict contract, the addition of ovals define immense flexibility within that contract.

On Posture, that his eyes are not on the Caniform entrusts he won’t be attacked, and accepts the other’s protection. They are likely very familiar with each other for the money is not set upon any surface, but held. The Didelphimorph, what most would call an opossum, does not have naturally exquisite eyesight. He’s near sighted, the Caniform knows it, and is aware his kind are mostly nocturnal yet the mid-day sun is high. Here is a merchant pushing his work hours into time of day when he should be asleep.

Bonus Material: The Red Textile

On Color, Red is power, therefore anyone who wears or places for decoration expresses it. Yellow carries various definitions, among them wealth. Black is self-moderation.

On Shape, triangles are important. The diamonds consist of two incomplete triangles, a sign of wealth shared, not hoarded. A bearer gives money to richer folk for investments in various causes, pays their fair taxes, and also gives to the needy below. The inverted, incomplete Yellow triangles near the Black X’s tell of one who gives more to the needy than to the rich. The Black X’s themselves are not viewed as two intersecting lines, but four incomplete triangles, designating establishment of inner peace. The Black Zigzag references inner peace despite unpredictability in life while the Yellow lines around it carry a second, separate definition from the above: financial stability is nearly unbreakable no matter what problems arise. Triangles without bases represent openness and invitation.

Bonus Material: The Money

On Color, the government that issued these notes considers all money equal, no matter who and what circumstances it derives, according to Brown. This includes money from illicit activities with varying stages of illegality and socially negativity. As long as it is legal tender, the government attaches no moral stigma to inanimate money even if it punishes the crime and may deal in shades.

On Shape, the rectangle declares stability of the mint, and the circle is “unchanging”. This society does not rate its money vs. others, being the prime standard. It sets boundary that it does not tolerate counterfeiting, punished by execution for the rectangle is also a block.

Unrelated factors aligned over many centuries, coming together at that precise instant and place, themselves forebears of the future in every aspect where physical and social sciences interact.  

This is World Discipline, more commonly known as Geography. Words are not required, though certainly they help. Walk into a bar in the United States, expect a full serving of beer as the definition of good service, and half considered bad. In another country, let alone world, a full serving of beer may be a local means of saying one should drink and leave, whereas a half- serving means stay: enjoy yourself, and what this place has to offer.

im always slightly annoyed when american celebrities critique racism, homophobia, sexism etc in their country but keep repeating ‘oh but I love America ykno!’ like it’s so….. pointless to speak out about social issues of u gonna keep it at a ‘I don’t wanna be known as someone who’s actually criticising the US’ level bc u know it’s gonna hurt u from getting jobs. it’s tiptoeing on the edge of social activism so u will get praise from minorities but won’t be crucified by the racists, sexists and homophobes that give u jobs and buy ur products. faux social activism is a cash and publicity boost for celebrities. take a stand for once and say 'I can’t love America as long as ppl are still being discriminated against and neither should u’. that’s how u use ur position to create dialogue and actually help make a change

I just realised..

Man….. Anti really does have us. He literally has us waiting on edge, checking social media and refreshing youtube for today’s second video, which might not even happen. (Through I wouldn’t blame the septiceye team. That first one must have taken a long time to edit. Props Robin for some great work.) But, Anti really does have us right where he wants us, doesn’t he?

harryxlovesxlouis  asked:

can you recommend some aus where like Harry has a obsession woth Louis

Hi lovely! This is a mixture of both dark Harry and normal(?) Harry I supposed, hope you enjoy:

dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free by significantly:

Summary: it wasn’t some big secret. and it’s not like he was the only one more than interested in him, harry told himself. louis truly was what someone might call a social enigma, all blurred edges with that stupid smokey hepburn-esque allure. it was only natural to be a bit curious.

harry wasn’t a stalker. he just liked to know where the boy was and what he was doing because for some odd reason he found louis endlessly fascinating and brilliant despite not knowing anything about him.

or; harry is a little more preoccupied with the tomlinson boy than he should be and one day he gets something no one else gets: an invitation.

You Say You a Gangsta (that don’t impress me none) by seducedbycurls:

Summary: “I knew you were too perfect, of course you had to be the leader of a Mafia… Of all things, the leader of a Mafia!”

i got my eyes on you (you’re everything that i see) by balanceds:

Summary: “It’s not a secret, right, Harry? All of his friends seem to know–”

Harry slumps down and starts methodically banging his head against his newsroom desk. “Niall, it is a secret from him because I have spoken a total of ten fucking words to Louis Tomlinson and also he is incredibly out of my league and probably fucking straight as well!”

Or: Harry’s a first-year on the school newspaper, assigned to cover the terrible men’s first football team. Louis Tomlinson is the team’s star defender. Harry pays significantly more attention to Louis’s arse than to writing real columns. Pretty soon, everyone notices. It takes Louis the longest.

Prying Eyes by orphan_account:

Summary: When Louis moves into a new town he thinks everything will finally be stable in his life. The only thing he’s worried about is forgetting his past. But when a reclusive teenager develops a less than healthy obsession with him he knows that he’ll never be able to run far enough…

Sugar & Spice by IlluminateTheSparks:

Summary: With a Psychiatry and a Psychology degree finally under Louis’ belt, he feels like he can conquer the world. That high, of feeling untouchable, only strengthens when he accepts an extremely well paying job at Gotham’s notorious insane asylum. Being the in-house psychiatrist may seem like a dream come true for Louis, but he quickly gets more than he bargained for when he falls madly in love with the most dangerously insane person in the asylum-a hauntingly beautiful criminal named Harry. Or as everyone else seems to call him-The Joker.

walking in a winter wonderland by crybaby:

Summary: Louis opens the door still in his pyjamas and Harry’s heart beats n his throat because Louis has milk at the corners of his mouth and biscuit crumbs on his chin and Harry thinks that this is what love might feel like, having your heart beat in your fingertips and rattle your body in an attempt to break free and give itself over to the object of your affection.

(Harry has a serious crush on Louis Tomlinson that ends up with him accidentally signing up to be on the Winter Ball committee)

Want You More Than A by TheCellarDoor:

Summary: Falling in love with your step-brother’s best friend is a disaster enough. When he happens to be the boy everyone loves and you’re a nerd who wears sweater vests and cries during rom-coms, it takes it to a whole new level.

Autistic Tinkerbell!!

Warning: Long-ish, but not too long surprisingly

I’m surprised have only seen a few posts with the same headcanon, but I totally headcanon Tinkerbell (from the Disney Fairies movie series, but I’m sure she’s portrayed just as autistically in other versions, I just only really know her from these films) as autistic. I could relate to her a lot as a kid, which was a big part in why these films were such a SI of mine.

Let me talk about this beloved headcanon of mine. Fun fact: It was my first autistic headcanon I’d ever made. :)

- Tink is so awkward. So very socially awkward. Making friends doesn’t come easy to her, in fact, it’s really difficult. She can never accurately read how people feel about her, and at times she comes off as if she’s almost pushing herself on people, when really, she’s just trying to make friends in the only way she knows how. She doesn’t have a good read on social cues and has a hard time reading others, and it’s easy for her to feel different and out of place amongst others because of her quirks. She’s a bit rough around the edges, socially graceless, and stands out easily amongst other fairies; She thinks, sees, feels, and acts very differently from other fairies.

- The whole first film is all about the fact that she’s extremely different from other fairies. She has the obscure fairy talent of tinkering, she can’t play with the seasons or go to a lot of the events or do lots of the things other fairies can do, and therefor she thinks because her talent is different that she needs to change it. She tries all the other fairies talents, but she fails miserably at all of them, and ends in disaster. The message is that when you try to be like everybody else, it never goes well and it never feels right, it’s only when you accept who you are and who you were born to be, that thinks are truly right. Tinkerbell was born to tinker, she has a natural creativity and knack for fixing things, and she’s rather good at it. She comes to love who she is and even finds a way to advocate that tinker fairies be included in things other fairies do. As I got older and finally learned I’m autistic and lost my mask after years of mimicking, I realized such a beautiful parallel here between tinker fairies and autistic/neuroatypical people.

- She has a special interest in lost things, she loves finding things and collecting them, sometimes fixing them up or using them to build things. She also has a special interest in building/tinkering and fixing things.

- She’s very clumsy and has poor motor skills.

- She has a black and white view on things. She’ll get an idea or a plan and will get very angry if it doesn’t go like it was in her head. She likes doing things her way and her way only, and can be very stubborn. She’s also an extreme perfectionist, and gets extremely frustrated and upset when she messes something up or it doesn’t hold up to her standards. Her perfectionism can often put her in meltdown-mode.

- Prone to anger and meltdowns/outbursts. She can become easily frustrated and moody, and can snap on people without realizing. She has many meltdown-like instances in the films, for instance she gets mad at Terrence who was trying to help her with building a scepter, but she wanted to do things her way and stick to her plan, and she winds up getting so frustrated she kicks something angrily and trips into the table and breaks the scepter. In meltdowns I get very angry and very reckless. I do and say things without thinking, and like Tinkerbell, I feel very bad and regretful afterwards

- Despite being very empathetic and wanting to comfort others and help them, she can’t quite figure out how. She’s not lovey dovey or a shoulder to cry on, and definitely not gentle. Her first instinct in a situation is to solve whatever the problem is, but not everyone wants or needs that, and it frustrates her, and despite getting angry with others, she’s not apathetic to their emotions but rather annoyed she doesn’t know how to comfort them. That has always been so relatable to me, as I’m exactly the same way. I’m so overloaded by empathy that it frustrates me, and I can’t show it.

- She has a habit of wandering off when something interests her or catches her eye. She also tends to go on about her interests or try to involve people in them (i.e. Vidia) when they’re not interested, but it’s oblivious to her. She thinks because she enjoys it everyone must enjoy it. It’s the black and white way of thinking.

- Tinkers with her clothes so they can fit her sensory needs. Also likes her hair up and her hair out of her eyes because it’s a Bad Sensory Feel™

- She’s very stimmy. Her wings are always flapping even when sitting down and other fairies aren’t. Flappy Wings = a beautiful concept. She also stims visually, she is mesmerized by floating things and beautiful sceneries. Tinkering in some ways is also probably really stimmy. ALSO. Raptor hands. She does this sort of raptor hands pose with her hands, she like curls them up; She does it constantly, and it’s so beautiful because I do it too. That’s my default pose. I just. Gahh.

- Tinkerbell = an autistic fairy. No one can tell me otherwise. She was such a beautiful, magical, best part of my childhood, I had someone to look up to who was different like me, and having Tinkerbell in my life got me through some of the worst, scariest points in my life. Some kids had princesses or superheroes, I had this awkward fairy who just wanted to be understood, and she went about it in the wrong ways, but later found acceptance in herself and learned to love being different. And it wasn’t until recently, until I found the words, until I looked back, that I realized how much my life was like those movies. I’m different and awkward, I’ve always just wanted to be understood, but I went about it in the wrong ways, and now I’m finding acceptance in myself and have learned to love being different; To love being autistic. I didn’t need to hear the word autistic on my screen, she was like me, and that was enough. Thanks to the people who brought this awkward, clumsy pixie to life, she’s kind of my hero.

In my department I have always taught a course on race, which foregrounds how race emerges through histories of European imperialism. I teach the work of black writers and writers of color, especially black feminists and feminists of color. Every year I have taught this course, black students and students of color have come to my office to tell me that was the first time that they had been taught materials that they could relate to their own experiences. This is in a department shaped by the intellectual traditions of British cultural studies and in particular the legacy of black British theorist Stuart Hall. Here whiteness is still business as usual; education as usual. We are still doing diversity work here because the foundation upon which the house has been built creates strangers; those who are passing by at the edges of social experience; those who, when they meet themselves in the materials, feel grief for not having met themselves before.
—  Sara Ahmed, Living a Feminist Life
The Roman and Jaida Series, Part 1 - We Are Fire

He’s not her most favorite person in the world, but she finds it in her heart to be there for him in his time of need. In return, he shows her just how much he appreciates it. Set around the events of the 2015 Royal Rumble and the Blizzard Raw. Part one of the Roman and Jaida Series. Roman Reigns/OC


“You’re a fuckin’ jerk, you know that?” she snarled, pointing her finger into the face of the man with whom she was so furious. “You should be glad I ain’t slapped the shit outta you!”

A smirk crossed Roman Reigns’ face as he stared down at her angry features. “What’s the matter, sweet pea? Mad ‘cause I called you out on the truth?”

“Ain’t no damn truth, Reigns. And my name’s Jaida. How about you call me by my fuckin’ given name?”

“I’ll call you whatever I want, sweet pea,” said Roman. He stepped closer to her, bringing them chest to chest. “I see the way you look at me. I don’t know why you keep acting like you don’t wanna hop on my dick. I sure as well won’t mind.” He lifted his hand to run a forefinger over her right jawline, hearing her breath catch, just like he expected. “Anytime, anyplace, sweet pea. You name it.”

Keep reading

Trying to put a few more of my scattered thoughts on this “hardcore civic nationalism“ thing just so I can synthesize what I’ve seen.

I think this group has a complicated relationship with immigration.  There is this abstract sense with which they are pro-immigration because part of being a good nation is having people, but it depends on those national cultural institutions being strong.  They are in favor of cultural institutions being strong in part so they can allow immigration, there’s this very assimilationist thought here.  They have some opinions on what that national cultural thought should be, but it’s more critical that the thought exists than the precise details of that thought. You can synthesize the idea of their nationalism there, it’s sort of “our nation is so great that other people want to join it”

I sort of mentioned the rightward edge because I needed to separate them from ethnic nationalists, but there is a leftward social democratic leaning edge too.  The public works aspect provides opportunities to help people build a society while making sure nobody goes hungry, they’d take unemployment seriously, and anti-racist measures are both good in themselves and perfectly reasonable as methods of building national cohesion. Conceptually, you can sort of view this national culture thing as reducing the need for hierarchy, instead of having society conceptualized by you serving your boss, priest, or husband, everyone serves the national idea and we are all nominally equal.  So this can be thought of and constructed as egalitarian.

Since the display image for the FA link on my old post is showing an old version, I thought I’d just post the whole shebang here without trying to link anywhere else. My chimpsona! He’s nothing new, I’ve had him since 2015 and I absolutely love him even if his design is very simple.

Personality traits:

-Shy
-Sweet
-Playful
-Loyal
-Empathetic
-Selfless
-Anxious
-Sensitive
-Easily overwhelmed
-Easily jealous
-Can have a temper if pushed too far
-Can hold a grudge like nobody’s business

Behavioral traits:

-Not high in any hierarchy and doesn’t try to be
-Often hovers on the edge of social groups, watching but not interacting
-Awkward attempts to integrate into social activities are often unsuccessful
-Enjoys grooming others when he can, despite his social difficulties
-Very submissive around other males and sometimes females
-Not attracted to females, prefers males
-Not very interested in mating activities
-Awkward around white-tails, but they usually see him as a playmate anyway
-Puts up with white-tails riding on his back occasionally
-Almost never ends his panthoots with screaming
-Not very prone to becoming aggressive
-Usually prefers fruit to meat
-Keeps a wooden spear that he crafted (typical of his subspecies, but they normally discard a spear after using it)
-Uses his spear to hunt bushbabies (typical of his subspecies)
-Enjoys playing in water (typical of his subspecies)
-Often active at night (typical of his subspecies)
-Takes shelter in caves to avoid rain or extreme heat (typical of his subspecies)

Physical traits:

-Bangs between his brow ridges, sweeping to the left side
-No balding on his head or chest
-No white beard
-White sclera (whites of eyes)
-Hazel eyes
-Infant chimpanzee colored skin despite being an adult
-Overall youthful appearance in relation to his age
-A little small for an adult male chimp, in height and build
-Black fingernails and toenails
-Missing first tooth behind left canine on upper jaw
-Comfortable walking upright or on all fours
-Coat was tawny as an infant and juvenile, but darkened to black as he matured

Other:

-Best friends/maybe half brother of @kindofash chimpsona, Kit.
-Planet of the Apes variant would probably be almost completely the same. He might wear a necklace with a tooth on it, if anything; no piercings, and only warpaint when the situation calls for it. He wouldn’t speak – he would express himself through body language, natural vocalizations, and signing.

anonymous asked:

Okay so hear me out. Could you do something where Reaper, and Soldier 76 (not poly) are on an undercover mission with another agent, who they are not in a relationship with. Eventually the people they're following get suspicious, so the agent tells them to kiss them because "public displays of affection are known to make people uncomfortable, and before Reaper/76 can object, the agent just pulls them into a kiss. That is all. Feel free to ignore if you'd like though!

Now I have to go rewatch Winter Soldier. (Actually I already did, just so I could get to that scene and listen to Chris Evans perfectly delivering that line of “Yes, they do.” with that unspoken “They do, Natasha, and that’s why you don’t ask to snog your friend and coworker out of the blue.”)
Anyway here have Captain America Soldiier 76 and Reaper with this wonderful scenario.

Requests are closed.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

You study conversation?

Absolutely! I study a lot of odd things for sugaring. Conversation, negotiation, staying in control of interactions, hair, makeup, health, body language, seduction, marketing as well as skills to make myself seem well rounded and interesting like languages, computer coding, sports, cooking, etc. Basically anything that gives me an edge socially or makes me interesting to people. Although to be totally honest, I did all of that prior to sugaring, I just became more focused on the purpose of it all once I became a SB.

ANTHEMS FOR A SEVENTEEN YEAR OLD GIRL for when you are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen. happy birthday gigi!

anthems for a seventeen year-old girl broken social scene edge of seventeen stevie nicks giving up the gun vampire weekend 17 sky ferreira norgaard the vaccines evening sun the strokes girls the 1975 i love rock'n'roll joan jett dancing queen ABBA

LISTEN 

ADULT FINGER PAINTING

TEXT LADY GAGA

IN ADVANCE OF THEIR IMPENDING NUPTIALS, GUEST EDITOR GAGA AND HUSBAND-TO-BE TAYLOR KINNEY EXPLORE THE CREATIVE CAPACITY OF LOVE AS A HEALING FORCE

“I went to Home Depot
Bought a kayak
How about we paddle out into the ocean as far as you like
And you can push me off”  
Taylor Kinney


I could not complete the covers of this issue without relinquishing one to an important cause. Taylor and I talk all the time about our unique existence on this earth. How can we use our creativity to heal people? Since we first met, Taylor’s been painting and drawing all over me. Years ago, when we were secretly living in San Diego and crashing on the floor of a beach shack, we never wore shoes. He told me he wanted to make love to me on a canvas. And though he made many murals on my body in the wee, small hours of our stoked, gypsy mornings with our friends, for whatever reason we never got around to it. So when I asked him to collaborate with me on a project to raise money and awareness about mental illness, he immediately brought my attention back to this idea. We then of course began our research. What type of paint do we use? Which colors and why? Is there a functional way to apply the paint so it smears more beautifully? Who’s to say what makes a smear beautiful anyway?

We arrived at a concept. Since many people had made art of their love on canvases before, we had to do something more—to apply a purpose greater than each other, and make love for the world. We would draw attention to something important, with an adult finger painting.

From the sale of each issue bearing Taylor and I making our painting on the cover, a donation will be made by V Magazine to the Born This Way Foundation, which helps to bring cutting-edge, social-emotional intelligence research to the world.

anonymous asked:

What's your take on the social justice, WTS, etc. stuff going on at Stanford right now?

Do you mean WTU?

Anyway, generalized take on campus social justice, informed by current events at Stanford but also by friends at other places and various media:

Student politics contains a lot of people on both sides who are basically fighting over the levers of administrative (and in the case of public universities, state) power. They are fighting to get professors fired or tenured; fighting to get their own activists campus jobs doing activism, fighting over where the school’s endowment is invested, fighting over what counts as hate speech and how much trouble you get into for it.

I think this is a bad approach to activism, for three reasons. The first is that it can be used in pursuit of bad goals exactly as easily as in pursuit of good goals; there is no truth-seeking in it. None of the discussions of hate speech or microaggressions that have sparked firestorms on campuses today specify ‘this sort of statement, if untruthful’. And so you get professors fired for being insufficiently pro-Israel and speakers uninvited for being excessively pro-Israel and students made to feel afraid on both sides, depending on who currently has the upper edge in social power. Good policies promote debate not because they respect the inherent value of debate and free speech (well, they should, but that’s harder) but because good policies will win debates. Stanford, a couple years ago, shut down a talk by an opponent of gay marriage. They should have let him talk, because his arguments were not dangerous. They would not have been convincing. Our side has a better argument.

The second reason is that it has, of course, disparate impact. Skye was marvelling earlier today about a story of a beloved classics professor who got fired for putting on Seneca’s Medea - and also got fired from his second job at the school as a janitor. A lot of campus social justice tactics involve getting people fired or calling for their resignation. If the people in question are the well-connected upper middle class, they’ll bounce back from this. It is not a safe assumption that the people whose resignation you’re calling for are. Oberlin’s “we demand the immediate firing of [ a dozen mid-level administrators]” was a particularly egregious case of this. 

The third reason is that it does not achieve the goals the movement has. As far as I can tell, administrations basically respond to all these events by asking their PR teams to work overtime. They find and comply with the easiest-to-manage of the demands, announce that they’re convening a committee to talk about the others, and wait for the furor to die down. Students graduate in a few years and their energy for activism usually doesn’t even last that long; the administration is willing to outwait them.

I think campus social justice demands should take the form of specific demands that can happen right away, developed alongside the administration as much as possible to avoid making the interaction adversarial until it absolutely has to be (perhaps taking advantage of the fact that other students who are being adversarial are scaring the administration into cooperating; I am in favor of two-pronged approaches). I think they should favor concrete proposals (”change this psych services policy”) over symbolic ones (”divest from this evil organization”). I think they should not just permit debate but welcome it, announcing when debates will be hosted when they announce the policies in the first place.

With all of that said, I think in general students have entirely legitimate complaints. Colleges have a weird incentive structure where they are more accountable to the U.S. News and World Report than to their actual customers, and their actual customers want a bunch of things and are entirely right to agitate for them. Also, someone recently got the administration to replace nearly all the men’s and women’s bathrooms on campus with gender-neutral ones, and I think if not for students pushing for that, it would have taken decades. Stanford has a $22billion endowment. Their students should absolutely be fighting for that to be spent in a way that matches the reputation the school wants to project. If most of their requests are too long-term, not actually feasible or a good idea, and/or needlessly incendiary, that’s fine. Activism doesn’t start with coming to the table with your most reasonable ideas.

But it does, eventually, need to get there.

anonymous asked:

Hi: I hope this isn't rude but could you say how old you are, or give a ballpark decade? I ask because I feel horribly old to be on tumblr myself and am curious if you are around the same age as me (born in the early sixties).

I am a bit younger than you – I’m actually the average age for a tumblrite, 34, though I’ll be 35 come Saturday :D 

But you are not alone! There are far more people out of their thirties than you think. As my friend spiderine keenly points out, people over a certain age a) cause a lot less fuckin’ drama, so they’re less noticeable, and b) don’t often reblog “reblog this if” posts, making them more difficult to tally. But I personally know of many people on tumblr who are as old or older than you.

Plus, I mean, If you’re in your forties or fifties and you’re on tumblr, you’re fucking hip, right? You are on the cutting edge of social media out here in the wilderness, be proud of your youthful and elastic brain. 

This is me at the DMV. I want to thank the DMV web cam for making today’s live-stream of my wait possible. Truly thrilling, cutting edge social media content creation happened today. Thanks to Jen for the screen cap and thanks to all of you who participated. In a way, we all went to the DMV today.