the tremendous family

Pride aside

How the fuck are we so perfect
Yet so pathetic
Bullshit aside
Coming from a different perspective 
Imagine what life would be like 
Without one another 
At each others side
I don’t even want to think about it 
To be real
The good outweighs the bad
So why are we so quick to give it up
So quick to chuck the deuce up 
& quit looking back
Acting like it’s what we really want
Blinded by our pride
Why do we feel the need to always be right
Knowing we’re worth the fight

300 Follower Special!

I’M NOT DEAD. AT LEAST I DON’T THINK I AM.

So no I didn’t disappear on you guys I just got caught up with life and it’s bills. I got tremendously busy with my family and job and I had zero time to do anything of my set or drawings forever now. However I haven’t forgotten about you guys and I have a treat for you all to look forward to! So I had just recently hit 300 followers! Thank you all! So in this celebration my friend and I are planning for a time hopefully this week for me to do my semi-crossplay set of a trappy Inner Moka from Rosario + Vampire. I’m gonna try to make this a decently large set to help make up for my absence. Again I’m so so sorry for being gone without any word for so long, life has a way of getting hectic. So I hope this news gives you all faith in me once more. Love you guys

Javier Muñoz is the classiest man, and the fiercest Alexander Hamilton. What a delight it was to meet him, chat with him, and photograph him. @hamiltonmusical is so dearly lucky to have such a tremendous human in their family. . NIKON D750, 70mm and f/4, exp comp -0.7, ISO 1100, 1/250 sec. Styling by @michelleeliseartistry.

A photo posted by Susan Stripling Photography (@susanstriplingphotography) on Aug 3, 2016 at 9:57am PDT

Home.

When I was sixteen years old, I was a very lost little girl. 

I am tremendously lucky; my family is open and kind, my parents are loving, my church was liberal and warm, my school was progressive and thoughtful.

But I still remember getting teased mercilessly about how much of a ‘boy’ I was, with my short haircut and my t-shirt and shorts at the pool.  I still remember getting mocked for being fat, for being not enough of a girl, for not developing fast enough, for developing too fast.  I still can’t question my identity as a woman too much without cracking into a nasty mess of trauma.  I was nine, and I wanted to be anything but what I was.

I still recall the pastor at our church crying because of the gay brother she lost to AIDS.  I remember people outside of our little circle mocking us for working on his quilt square.  I remember sobbing myself, wondering what I would do if I got infected, wondering if the way I was would kill me before I graduated.  I was fourteen, and I knew that I was going to die.  Young, probably.  Certainly alone.

I can replay in my head when, at summer camp, were were tasked with writing monologues including one from the perspective of ourselves, fifty years in the future.  I wrote a comedy about robot limbs and virtual pets.  My friend wrote about how she would be dead, because something would have killed her.  The world would have killed her. AIDS or violence or the government would have killed her. I was sixteen, and I knew none of us would see the other side of twenty.  Some of us had pills to make sure it was so.

And then I remember this day, this miracle, magical day, when a girl from my youth group, three years older than me, beautiful and queer and proud, just came to my house.  I think she knew, though I never talked about it, I think she could see in me what I was and where I was going. 

We never hung out, but she picked me up and she told my Mom we were just going to hang out, and she drove me to a part of town I’d never been before.  It was a coffee shop, and it had a bookstore, and it had rainbows painted into the fence, and I knew what that meant.  And I was terrified.  But N, she was so cool.  She was so cool and so amazing and so confident and so self-assured.  So I went with her.

She ordered a french press and I had a tea, and we just talked.  About life, and philosophy, and all the beautiful, weird things teenage girls talked about.  And all around me, there were these people I’d never seen before.  There were boys holding hands.  There were photos of women kissing on the walls.  There were shelves of queer studies texts.  There were Polaroids of quilt squares stuck all around the register.

And the longer I was there, the better I felt.  And when we left, when the shop closed, I was so regretful to leave, so grateful to be there – I put every dime of my money in the tip jar.

And when I got back to my bedroom, I cried.

Because that place – it was home.  Home. Home.  It was safe.  For all my objectively wonderful, fantastic life, I had never, not once in my life, felt like that.  I could say anything.  I could do anything.  I could be anything.  

And there were people there twice my age.  Three times!  There were old people drinking coffee, holding hands, buying books, obviously not alone and they were like me.

My mom asked why I was crying, and all I could tell her was that I was going to be okay.  And that was it, that was the whole story.  I was crying because I was going to be okay.  Because there were people who lived beyond twenty.  Because no matter what else happened, there was a home.  I went back, over and over.  When school started, I gave my carefully hoarded pills to someone else, but I also asked them if they wanted to come to the coffee shop with me.

That coffee shop is long gone, and N has moved on and we haven’t talked in decades, but that first trip was absolutely essential to my survival, because it taught me there were places out there that’d feel like home.  Other queer spaces, ones that were quite explicitly so.  Clubs.  Parties.  College groups.  I never really came out, I just started being this person.  The world around me was accepting enough that I could.  And always, no matter what, if the world got too hard, I could find one of those places.  I wouldn’t get hell.  I would be home.

Where you go in, and you see someone like you.  You see a hundred people like you but not like you, old people, successful people, beautiful people, ordinary people.  You feel safe.  You go home.  Because it doesn’t matter what the place is, what people do there, it’s the people, it’s the strangeness, it’s the things you can not see in your mainstream life that make them special.

These places are so important.  And when one of them is violated, even when I don’t know anyone personally affected, I feel like my own home was broken into.  I feel terrified.

My family has been relentlessly, endlessly, constantly under siege since long before I was born.  It will still be at war long after I die.  But there are places like that coffee shop, like Pulse, where I can go to plan and play, to mourn and dance, to be.  

I don’t have some big conclusion for this.  I don’t have one of my usual messages of hope.  I just wanted to say that places like this are important, that we need more of them.  Places like this changed me, and for the better.  Places like this are where my family lives.  And while I will be on my guard, I refuse to be afraid to go there.  I will go home, any time, any city, and there is nothing anyone can do to change that.  The reward is worth the risk.  

If you feel the same – if you can, if you feel safe – please, go to one of these places this week.  Go to a club, go to a coffee shop, go to a mixer or an event, hell, go to a thrift store if it’s an explicitly queer one.  There are a lot of people that are going to be afraid, this week.  Go, please, if you are brave, and make those places weird and wonderful and diverse and home.  

[TRANS] 160328 Jackson and Go Fridge family’s birthday voice messages 

Jackson: Hello! Hello everyone, I am Jackson, Jiajia yeah~ You can call me Jia Er. Today is my 22nd birthday, WOO~! Yeah~ I have to thank every person who’s given Go Fridge family tremendous support! Thank you to the fans who’ve continuously accompanied us as we grew! I love you all. I love you. Salanghae (Korean: I love you). Ngoh oi neih (Cantonese: I love you). Ngu eh nong (Shanghainese: I love you).
Chef An: (Korean) Congratulations on Jackson’s birthday, March 28th. Jackson, happy birthday!
Chef Huang: Jiajia, happy birthday.
Chef An: (Mandarin) Jackson, happy birthday!
Chef Wei Tao: Today is your birth-day~ Our Jia-jia~ 🎵Jackson, Jiajia, happy birthday.
Chef Lele: My precious little cotton jacket! Wang Jia Er! Jiajia~ Today is your BIRTH-DAY. I wish you a HA-PPY BIRTH-DAY~ Happyy birthdaay to you ~🎵
Chef Shasha: Happy birthday to you ~🎵
Chef Tian Shu: Wishing Jia Er a happy birthday! Go Fridge family together forever.

Ive just seen the most pretentious post and I feel like I need to get it off my chest….. Fuck off seriously!!! People don’t just like Captain Swan because Colin/Killian is handsome and a ‘bad boy’. We like him because he treats Emma so well. He let’s her make her own choices. He believes in her completely even when she doesn’t believe in herself. He encourages her constantly. He is completely in awe of her. He is a hero. He is also loved tremendously by Emmas family. That’s just a fact at this point. He would sacrifice anything for her. He gave up his life for her and her family more than once. Most importantly he makes her the happiest she’s ever been and that’s what we want for Emma. Emma who’s walls have been up so long, who hasn’t been able to trust people fully until she fell for Killian. Emma who has never had anyone put her first. Emma who has never had someone come back for her time and time again. Emma who never felt like she really had a home. Emma who has always had to sacrifice for everyone else but never had someone sacrifice for her until Killian. Yes Colin and Hook are extremely good looking but that is just the cherry on a beautiful cake of reasons why we love Captain Swan. So I say again fuck off with your fake concern for people who like Captain Swan because I’m telling you now if I ever met anyone like Killian in real life I’d be thanking my lucky stars!!

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

Dragonslayer  a ‘Castle’ fanfic

From an anonymous Tumblr promt

Beckett comes home to find Castle cuddling with their five year old daughter

I hope this works for you Anon!

Dragonslayer

It had been a horrendous day. An entire family wipedout, from a father in his 30’s to his 17 year old brother, to his 3 year old little girl, to his 6 month old baby boy.

The man’s wife found the four bodies when she walked in from a two day “mom’s vacation” she took every year with her best friend. The woman’s guilt for leaving her family was tremendous. Absolutely catatonic now, it was only the neighbors hearing her scream that got the police there. Kate Beckett didn’t think she’d be any help at all.

Now, after hours of canvassing the neighborhood and workplaces of the man and his brother, Kate was finally trudging the last few steps from the elevator to the loft.  She was exhausted and yearned to snuggle her own little girl. She’d texted Castle throughout the day with updates about the case so he knew this was a rough one.

As she walked through the door, she could hear Rick talking to someone in his office.  Not making out the words, she decided he was on the phone so she went to pour herself a glass of wine, thinking maybe she’d take the whole bottle into the bathroom and relax in the giant tub with Castle.

But before she did that, she wanted—no, NEEDED—to check on Hannah.  

Popping into the office to let Rick know she was home; Kate saw exactly who he was talking to. He wasn’t on the phone.

Hannah was in his lap, listening to a story.  The five year old snuggled close to his chest, and it looked to Kate that she was drawing comfort from the rumbling of his voice.   Kate paused in the doorway watching her husband spin his words.

“This princess was strong.  She didn’t need anyone to save her.  Of course if help was available, the princess would take it, but if there was none, she could take care of herself.”

Hannah interrupted.

“But, Daddy…”

Kate startled a little.  It seemed Hannah had been crying.

“What, Sunshine?” he asked.

“What if it was a dragon?   They’re really scary.”

“Was that what your dream was about, Sweetheart?”

Hannah nodded into his chest, cuddling closer, almost as if she was trying to climb inside his body.

Rick’s arms tightened around his daughter.

“Well, Hannah, this princess was a dragonslayer.”

The little girl broke in again.

“What’s the princess’ name?

Kate knew what was coming and rolled her eyes lovingly.  Neither of them had seen her yet, but she always enjoyed watching the two of them together.  

“Why, Princess Katherine of course!”

Hannah giggled.

“I like when you put Mommy into your stories,” she said.  “But I don’t think Mommy kills dragons.”

“Oh, but she has fought them and beaten them, and she’ll never let one get anywhere near you, Sunshine.  And neither will I.”

“Promise?” she asked, looking up at him with tear filled eyes.

“Promise,” he replied.  “Even if she’s forgotten that staring is creepy.”

Wait…what?

Kate burst out laughing.  He’d known she was there the whole time.  Maybe he really did have a little ninja in him.  

“Mommy!”

“Hi, Sunshine,” Kate picked Hannah up and swung her around.  “Daddy telling you bedtime stories again?”

“I had a bad dream,” Hannah looked at her mother solemnly.  “He always makes me feel better.”

Kate smiled at Rick.

“He does the same thing for me, too.”

“It looks like Princess Katherine is tired, Sunshine,” smiled Rick.  “Let’s get you up to bed so I can tell her a bedtime story.”

“Will it be about Princess Hannah?”

Kate grinned.

“I would love to hear a story about Princess Hannah and all she’s done today!  Why don’t you let Daddy take you upstairs, and I’ll change into my jammies and come up to tuck you in?”

“Okay, Mommy!” She ran off towards the stairway.  

“Hi, Rick.”

“Hi, Princess.”

Rick pulled her into his arms and kissed her before she could smack him lightly on the chest.

“You all right? I know it’s been bad today.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Or I will be, thanks to you two.  Go take care of our daughter, I’ll be right up.”

She watched as he left the room.

“Castle?” she called out.

He turned back.

“Yes?”

“I may be a dragonslayer, but you’re still my knight in shining armor.”

3

His father anticipated the day his son would continue the family legacy, carrying on the Vaust bloodline into the new ages of Calpheon’s dynasty. The Vaust family history is one of great demonstrations of sacrifice, honor, and loyalty. This long celebrated bloodline now skirts the brink of extinction, as only one viable heir remains.

Zackary bears the tremendous weight of his family’s noble accomplishments, as well as the blistering expectations of others, upon his unbowed shoulders. The right woman had yet to pull at the strings of Zackary’s dutiful heart, uncertainty and doubt keeping him wary of his supposed suitors. Wouldn’t such affairs distract him from his dedication to Calpheon’s purpose? Fidelity to his nation was all that held consequence to him. Duty and devotion above all.

Nonetheless… his father wanted grandchildren, lest the Vaust bloodline fall into despair.

“Arranged marriages aren’t for me, I’m just not ready. Love should be spontaneous, beautiful, and most of all, real.” - Zackary Lukas Vaust