uniform used to be white

heatherlanntheclever  asked:

Is there any chance of a happy ending for the Lannisters? I know they are awful people but why develop their motivations and give each of them a genuine moment of compassion if they are just going to murder each other? Every other POV gets a moment of truth/redemption why not the children of Tywin/Patriarchy/Aerys and Disability? I'm a bad person myself so I need to believe the Lions can defy themselves and prophesy and overcome their nature or what's the point? Not all of us are born Starks.

Hey! So it’s gonna take me a few minutes to answer your question, but I promise I’m gonna get there.

In one of the other shows I watch, an actor commented on the banality of evil. He said that evil is something commonplace. Given the right circumstances, great acts of evil could be committed by your neighbors, or your friends, or you, or me. Because evil is so easy. “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” You needn’t be a monster like Gregor to commit evil; you need only be human. 

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she had walked the earth long
before the earth had any reason
to permit feet
(her name whispered in the dark
over, and over, and over,
passed down as a warning, and
never in pious prayer)
wildness was her dress, a saya of
leaves, and
madness adorned her dark hair,
brown in the firelight stories of
despair
(in lore, malakas and maganda live;
in this, they do not survive her).
when the uniformed guardias came,
they gave us maria:
a virgin in white, mute and in tears.
they had none of this goddess
untamed, hidden in the woods
(let the mother stand for
love, their friars said,
“out with this engkanto,
she isn’t real”).
they banished you to mythology.
they replaced you with the
virgin mother,
stripped you of that hedonistic will,
and forced you into veils.
when they think of love now, they
think of rosaries and blushing;
they have forgotten your
capacity for
bruised thighs and bloodied lips.
stir from the forest, goddess,
there are those who remember
your name
(i want to fall in love the way
you’d permit it: in
destruction, and
fire).
sasabay sa lukso ng
aking dugo ang
pag-tawag ko sa'yo
sa pagnanasang ako ay
marinig;
buwagin mo ang kinatatayuan ng
bawat pag-halik.
(they call you diyan masalanta;
it means “be destroyed there”)
—  the spaniards have mistaken our goddess of love for their virgin mother || bsc

anonymous asked:

OH MY GOODNESS LET ME TELL YOU. You said your favorite tear away costume to imagine Tyler in is the white US Navy uniform and you tickled a deep part of me because my fiance is in the Navy and oooh gurl that uniform is S E X Y.

Fuuuck my glob you are lucky omg blesss

Tbh no one should ever let me around guys in military uniform I’m weak

I’ve always felt like schools in the City would be super creepy.

Like- all the kids being forced to wear white uniforms, and the uniforms being used as an excuse for why they can’t have art classes or play outside, because they’ll get dirty.

The kids are taught about all of the leaders of BL/ind and their history, and are forced to memorize everything about them and write essays on how great they are.
They’re taught how important BL/ind is to their safety and why ‘rebels’ and ‘terrorists’ like the Killjoys must be avoided because they want to create chaos.

There’s also probably weird posters hung in the classrooms that say things like ‘SMILE’, ‘TAKE DIRECTION’, and ‘THOSE AT PEACE DO NOT ASK QUESTIONS’.

Idk, that’s just me, though.

An Analysis of Ravus Nox Fleuret

WARNING! I’ll be touching in on SPOILERS, so read at your own risk!
I’ll mostly be talking about their overall designs and how it ultimately influences their roles in Final Fantasy XV. I plan on doing an analysis of Ardyn Izunia as well, but for now, let’s talk about Ravus. It’s a long read, so sit back and enjoy the reading!

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Allied Agenda

The newcomer received quite a few stares and sidelong glances as he strode down the halls of the naval base, but if he noticed or cared, he gave no outward sign. He stood nearly 6′ 6″ and wore the uniform of a US Admiral, but rather than the traditional white, his was charcoal black, contrasting sharply with his pale complexion. His presence might have otherwise been challenged, but his rank insignia marked him as a Five-Star Fleet Admiral, a rank that the USN had only relatively recently begun to re-institute; prior to the Abyssal War, it had not been filled by any admiral since Chester Nimitz himself.

The imposing figure finally halted in front of the reception desk of the base admiral’s office, politely clearing his throat to catch the attention of ship on duty.

“Good evening. If you could be so kind, please inform your commander that Admiral Jones of the United States Navy wishes to speak to her. I apologize for not making an appointment, but I’m afraid that matters of secrecy made doing so impractical. Also, if you could be so kind, please emphasize the importance of my visit. I must discuss an extremely pressing matter with her.”

@hmshood51

Bayroot Academy Part 2.5

Due to some saving issues I accidentally released “part 3″ earlier than I meant to (btw thank you to the people who told me about that). Long story short I messed up and here’s the missing part between 2 and 3, enjoy~


After the day of the first football game things at Bayroot changed. The second game was cancelled (no surprise there), and our school uniforms were thrown in the trash. Dean Snow started supplying us with sweatpants and white t-shirts in various sizes, but most of us by now have forgotten how clothes are supposed to fit and walk around with our flab showing. We’re all fat here anyways, so who cares? It started snowing sometime in October, but it’s getting seriously cold now that we’re a week into November. I’m honestly very thankful for my new insulation. Halloween really helped our get ready for the winter, George announced that school was canceled for the day and the cafeteria would be handing out free candy for 24 hours.

Yesterday the group decided to all weighed ourselves on the industrial sized scale George bought for us. My number came out to read 234lbs, but I was wearing clothes. So the real number is probably closer to 230. That’s still only about 30lbs in the last two months, and that’s basically nothing. At least compared to everyone else. The numbers that showed up on the scale yesterday were, in order from least to greatest: Cam (229lbs), me (234lbs), Larry (247lbs), Bernie (265lbs), and Ross at a solid (271lbs). We all thought Cam would’ve weighed more than me from his size, but he started out so much lower than the rest of us.

The weigh in was kind of a wakeup call for me. All my friends are growing so much faster than me, hell even Cameron is passing me up. My chest is soft and my moobs are jiggly, I even have good overhang going, but Larry is wide as hell, Ross is gaining like there’s no tomorrow, and Bernie is a blob. They’re all getting the fat problems before me and I feel so left out. My thighs were the last ones to start rubbing, I got my side rolls last, and even my double chin took the longest to come in. I must sound crazy to most of the world, but things at Bayroot are different now. I do feel heavier, and I love playing with my growing body, I’m just smaller than everyone else.

Today in first period a very hefty looking Mr. Cox gives us some really good news: we only have to show up to first period from now on, and that’s just for attendance purposes. The class takes the news very well.

“Well shit… I’m starting to… have. trouble. getting out of bed… it’s.. it’s about time they do something like this.” Ross says in between bites of pizza and heavy breaths. You’d never be able to tell that he was once the star quarterback by looking at him now. He looks like the out of shape fat kid who eats too many Twinkies. I mean, we all look like overweight fat asses, but most of us didn’t start out at 180lbs of muscle. Ross stretches his arms over his head and his shirt rises, revealing a very heavy, hairy, and stretch mark covered gluttonous belly.

“I’ll finally have time to start catching up to you two,” I say and wink at Bernie and Ross.

“Dude you can’t even catch up to me, and I weigh fucking less than you bro.” Cameron tells me and lifts up his baggy shirt and pushes out his belly to emphasize his point.

“Aye man, don’t be like that,” Bernie says and slaps Cam’s bare tit. “You can’t all be as blessed as me.” He finishes with a cocky laugh.

“Thanks,” I say somewhat genuinely to Bernie for defending me.

“No problem, now get yo skinny ass over here. This belly ain’t gonna rub itself.” He demands. I put down the plate ribs I was working on and kneel in front of his chair. I start kneading as he shoves in candy bar after candy bar. Ross and I became official the night of the football game, but neither of us are bothered by me rubbing down Bernie. Everyone knows about Ross and me, but everyone also knows how things work now.

This whole social construct of “fatter = more powerful” is something very new to Bayroot. Us skinny ones have to obey the big men on campus or they’ll tease us, sit on us, or worst of all, starve us out. I’ve personally only had the first two happen, but used-to-be class genius (and now fattest guy at Bayroot) Alan Springham and his fat goonies are starving out Cam’s gaming friend Taylor. Taylor wouldn’t let big old Alan get first cut at fries the other morning and now every first period Taylor can’t have any food or he’ll get sat on until his legs break. It’s really barbaric in my opinion, but I’m not one to challenge the system. So I rub Bernie’s belly and listen to him moan, wishing that Ross had commanded me first.

On the way out of class Mr. Cox calls me to his desk; it’s actually the first time I’ve heard him speak in several weeks. Normally we come and go as required while he gorges himself on ice cream or milkshakes, but today his sexy voice recites my name. I walk up to him and admire him. Most other teachers have switched to the standard white t-shirts, but Mr. Cox still wears his dress shirts. They don’t fit by any means; in fact they’re ripped around his belly, love handles, arms, and even moobs. He doesn’t button half the buttons but is still convinced the shirts look good, despite the various stains. Mr. Cox did switch over to the standard grey sweatpants and is sporting a rather loose fitting pair today. I can clearly see the outline of his constantly rock hard cock despite the bagginess of his pants. I try not to stare. I walk straight up to him, wishing I hadn’t been so lazy this week and would’ve gone to size up my clothes.

“Connor, I’ve been noticing that you’re falling behind your classmates in your performance. Now I’m not here to embarrass you, but I do think you could perhaps work a little harder in class and outside. I want to be here for you, though. If you ever need a little extra push, feel free to come use my classroom to help yourself out. I’m usually here taking advantage of the equipment if I’m not at my apartment, so just drop by whenever. Oh and you’re drooling… Here, have the rest of my donuts, you must be starving after taking care of Bernard all class.” Mr. Cox finishes and dear lord I was drooling, but not because I’m hungry.

“Thank you so much Mr. Cox, I know I’ll be hitting you up on that for sure!” I say and grab my donuts. I didn’t realize that he wants me fatter; he was the last thing that was actually keeping me from going all out with my eating. I kind of figured that if I ever get too skinny for Ross, maybe Mr. Cox will take me. I realize I sound childish, but I can dream. On the walk back to the dorms I can’t help but think about how unfair it is that Ross always gets to be fed and I never do. I mean it’s hot as hell to feed him, and I think I might love him, but it shouldn’t be all give and no take. I shouldn’t blame my slimness all on him, though, or even Bernie. Any bigger guy at Bayroot can force a smaller guy to help them out. I’ve rubbed the bellies of quite a few fatasses by this point. I’m just tired of never getting enough to eat for myself, I feel like I could be so much bigger by now.

I know back before this year I liked being skinny, but I can’t really remember why anymore. Now I just want to impress Ross and Mr. Cox and to get my social equality back. I make a new goal for myself: to go all out for once and eat anything I even think I want. It’ll be difficult, especially with me getting lazier, but I know I can do it.

When I get back to the dorm I get myself an XL pizza and turn on ESPN. I’m vegging out on my bed alone today; Cam’s over at Larry’s place, he’s been over there lot lately. Larry told me that they’re running out of weed and that he definitely needs to get some more when we go home for thanksgiving break, but I’ve also noticed that they’re smoking a lot less. I think food’s becoming their new drug of choice.

There’s a knock at the door and I know its Ross, he has this special knock he does. We’ll it’s not really a knock; he just lifts his gut and slams it against the door. I think it’s supposed to mean he’s hungry, but he’s always hungry.

I open the door, “Hey.” I say flirtatiously.

“Hey,” he says seductively. We kiss and he walks in and strips down to his jockstrap. He’s wearing the same one today that he wore on our first night together like 60lbs ago. He knows I love that thing because it really shows off how fat he’s gotten. The left side strap ripped a while ago, but he keeps it held up by jamming the rest of it under his rolls. He falls back-down onto my bed and a creak from the frame can clearly be heard. I swear, one day he’s going to plop down and break it.

“I need a feeding, please,” He says with a cute smirk and opens his thick legs. His big belly flops out between his thighs and the motion creates a ripple so big his heavy moobs shake. I have to resist him though; I need to focus on my weight for once.

“Well, I have something I need to talk to you about…” I start off. My voice is a little shaky, I don’t know if he’ll respond very well to this.

“What is it babe?” He asks.

“I was just thinking that I’m always feeding you, and I love feeding you, don’t get me wrong, but I’m getting skinnier than everyone else and I was wondering if you could feed me sometimes too.” I finish, nervous as ever. I don’t want his appetite to get the better of him. What if he just wants somebody to shove him full of fat and leaves me?

“Yeah, of course I’ll feed you Conner; I honestly didn’t know you like to be fed. You should have told me sooner, I have noticed that you’re getting… thin. But that’s okay, we’ll work on that,” He tells me apologetically. I’m relieved that it’s going this way; he really is way more sensitive than you’d think.

“Thank you for saying that, you really are the best.” I say and lay on him, kissing him all over, on his rolls, his big belly, his jiggly tits, his double chin, his fat thighs. I look up into his eyes, “What do I do now, my sexy feeder?”

“You do nothing, let me do everything. All you have to do is swallow.” He says and rolls out from under me. He goes over to the pizza button and I see him press the order button 3 times.  Things are definitely looking up from here.

/////

It’s dinner time and I’m getting hungry again, despite being so full only a couple of hours earlier. Ross left a little bit ago to get himself something to eat when Cam showed up. My belly rumbles kind of loudly.

“Damn dude, you want to go get some food? I’m assuming you’re tired of fucking pizza by now.” Cameron offers. He’s lying on his bed eating cheese sticks and playing with his huge gut. His arms and legs are chunkier than they used to be, but a huge portion of his fat is in his ball belly. He doesn’t really wear shoes anymore because they’re starting to get hard for him to tie.

“Yeah I’m tired of pizza, but I have special plans for dinner tonight.” I say.

“Oh are you and Quarterback Lardass going for a round 2?” He asks suggestively.

I say, suggestively, “Yup, something like that.” And get up to go to Mr. Cox’s room, putting on my shoes just to show Cam that I still can. I don’t like the way he makes fun of Ross’ body, I think he’s just holding a grudge because he gives really good belly rubs and Ross always makes him do it when I’m not around.

I knock on Mr. Cox’s closed door and hear him yell “Come in”. I come in and the beautiful Mr. Andrew Cox is standing by the soft serve machine, putting on his ruined shirt back on and whipping ice cream off his mouth and double chin. It’s obvious he just had his lips around the nozzle. I used to think Mr. Cox was the single most attractive man on earth, but I was so wrong. The Mr. Cox in front of me now, the one struggling to adjust his shirt over his tan, stretchmarked belly, is the man I think I’ve always wanted.

“Oh hello Connor, I’m glad to see you’ve come to take advantage of my offer,” He informs me.

“Well I think you were right when you said I needed some help. I talked to Ross about it today and he agrees with us.” I say.

“It’s good to have supportive people in your life,” He tells me. “You never know when you might need someone to have your back. Anyways you can make yourself at home, turn on some music if you’d like.”

“Okay thanks Mr. Cox,” I say appreciatively.

“Please Conner, call me Andrew,” He instructs.

“Okay, Andrew, thanks again for this.” I say and take off my shirt, making myself at home. I’m hoping he’ll take this as an invitation to do the same. I feel so guilty because I have a commitment to Ross, but nothing’s wrong with a little lust, right? I put on some music and turn around to go to the back machines and I see that Andrew has taken off his shirt again. He’s already working on that soft serve dispenser again. His eyes are closed and he’s gulping down the creamy coldness much faster than looks comfortable. His swollen gut’s resting on the counter and when he can’t suck down the ice cream fast enough, it starts dribbling out of his mouth and onto the heavy mass. He stops after a long while to catch his breath, and bends over with his hands on his knees. I can tell he’s not wearing any underwear; his fat ass is sticking out of his sweatpants.

“Aren’t you going to eat? Or are you going to stand there stare,” Andrew inquires between breaths.

As a response I happily walk over to the french fry machine and turn it on, letting the warm fried potatoes fall into my mouth and all around my body. I close my eyes and greedily chew. I’m in bliss. The fries fill my mouth and I chew quickly, having gotten really good at chewing lately. I glance for a second to see what Andrew’s doing, and he’s back on that soft serve nozzle. I enjoy the moment, taking everything in. All I smell is grease and all I taste is salt, but I want more. I feel like an animal, or an addict. All that I’m sure of is that I need these fries in my mouth and heading down to my stretched stomach. I don’t know how long I go before I stop, having to bend over and catch my breath the first time. There’s a large pile of fries up to my knees that my mouth missed. I start shoveling handfuls of them into my mouth, too invested in these potatoes to notice anything else. I turn the machine back on and slip my head under the dispenser.

“CONNER, come feed me!” Mr. Cox commands, snapping me out of my french fry frenzy. I look over at him and he’s sitting on the floor with his pants around his ankles. He’s jammed the soft serve switch to where it won’t stop flowing and ice cream is overflowing off the counter and pouring all over his body. A portion is going into his mouth, but most of it misses. I’m very confused because he has his sizable cock in his hand and I think he just told me to come feed him. I stare and try to assess the situation.

“Um, I think I’ll ju-“ I start, trying to find a way to get myself out of here before I refuse and he breaks my limbs.

“Are you deaf? I need you to COME HERE and SHOVE a churro my mouth! Don’t test me kid, I’ll fail you if your hot ass isn’t over here in 10 seconds!” He demands. As a teacher I guess he won’t sit on me, but he will blackmail me. But I can’t fail out of school; Bayroot is the best thing to ever happen to me, and it’s where Ross is. So I run over to him as best as I can with my bloated gut flopping around and grab a handful of churros from a warm basket and stuff one into his gaping mouth that’s almost overflowing with ice cream. He doesn’t close his mouth to chew and the food’s getting all over his fat cheeks. The ice cream coming off the counter is covering him down to his thighs and a lot of it is melted, making him a cold, fat, sticky, slippery man. As much as I hate what’s going on, it’s what I have to do and I shove the second churro down his throat. He starts playing with his dick, using melted soft serve as a lubricant, getting more intense as I feed him more quickly. He’s slapping his hard cock against his gigantic gut and he moans as he swallows. “MORE” He demands. I give him another one that he devours. I give him what he needs, I give him more. He keeps going, his belly and tits jiggling with each stroke of his hand until; finally, he comes all over his quivering body. He relaxes and breaths heavily.

“Thanks Connor, I really needed that. You can go if you’d like, but I look forward to seeing you here tomorrow after class.” Mr. Cox tells me with a sadistic smile. I can’t take him seriously, he’s covered in a pile of melted ice cream with more dribbling into is open mouth. He starts licking his fat arms. I’m somewhat disgusted with how hot I find all of this and grab a bucket of tacos to bring back to the dorm. I rush out of the room without saying anything.

Just as the door is about to close he says, “Oh, and by the way, if you tell anyone, I’ll fail that fat little ass of yours.”

I stumble back to the room, I’m a mess. Luckily Cam’s still out getting dinner, probably with Larry, so I get into my bed and cry myself to sleep after relieving myself and finishing the horrible god’s bucket of stolen tacos.

Coming Home
a Marlas fic written by Tracionn and theKASKproject
beta work done by Tiwtin
(read it on the AO3 | listen to the song we’re reffereing to)

Martin went to Zurich but he left a part of him behind in Fitton.
The question is: Will he get it back?

The manip was made to celebrate the result of collaboration with Tracionn, I was lucky to be involved in. 

It was a privilege to work with you, my dear! Thank you very much for being such a talented, creative, and adventurous fellow marlas shipper! ♥

4

deansfez:

Favorite Castiel outfits 1/3 → the mental hospital uniform

3

In order: Ayame and Michiko (Micchan) joined the team! They are @mokonarts‘s ocs!

And then Hachi just joined the team! She is an oc from @KuroShinkiro_ on twitter c:

Hope you like these new members!

9

SO I UH I recently purchased a 1:6 scale figure from Phicen, a company seemingly best known for taking RealDoll technology and bringing it full circle to… real dolls. I sought them out to spectate the train wreck, but boy, they had my number and I am really predictable. Seamless, fleshy joints be damned, I’m all about that Chinese Army Honor Guard.

UNBOXING BELOW

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Katy Perry exclusive interview for CHIC.se

This year Katy Perry face of H & M’s Christmas campaign launched in November. CHIC got an exclusive chat with the singer about inspiration, online shopping and loving yourself!

What is your personal connection to H & M and affordable fashion? Do you budget jump?
- I love to be the face of the campaign, I said yes right away when I was asked! When I started shopping when I was like 13 years, I went to two places - second-hand stores and H&M. I still shop there and I love to mix of two worlds. I use special accessories from H&M.

Many are inspired by your unique and playful outfits on red carpets. But how do you dress up on an ordinary day?
- Four of the seven days I use any kind of uniform: a black and white tracksuit from Adidas. It is simple and stylish, but not as flashy. The other three days I’m more flashy and sitting in hair and makeup for three hours.

What do you do on a day when it feels like you have nothing to wear? Give us your best tips!
- I’m a big fan of online shopping. I like to get stuff and try them at home where I’m comfortable. But I do not retain necessarily everything.

- When I want to find something to wear on me, I usually go to my garage, and my “archive” as I call it. Because I have a garage for two cars but no cars, only clothes. Then I usually pick out an outfit that I think has worked before, but I replace something in it, so it becomes something new!

What would you say is your biggest fashion mistake and why?
- I do not think I make any mistakes, others find it - and I’m okay with it. I wear what I want for me and I always have fun! But then I obviously have in me something that might be too tight. Between my tours, I go almost always up five kilograms, Then perhaps not everything is as good as it usually is.

Can you give our readers your top three tips on how they can get the courage to develop their own style?
- Dress up your mood! Do you feel romantic, funny or dark - dress accordingly. It always works!
- Just because something costs $ 1000 doesn’t mean that garment looks good on you. Go after what you like, not what it costs. 
- Begin to work on your self esteem. If you do not love yourself, you will not love something you have on you. Everything simply starts with loving yourself.

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

Today I was on a treadmill at a YMCA watching the end of an old rerun of Saturday Night Live on mute on the built-in TV. The host waved goodbye, the end credits began to roll, and Chris Christie, who had appeared as a special guest during Weekend Update, began to awkwardly wander around the stage, not getting hugged by any of the cast as the cast all hugged one another. I started crying on the treadmill. I am not a fan of Chris Christie’s by a long shot, but, I don’t know. We are all human beings just trying to do our best in this life, I thought, please just hug him, Jason Sudeikis. This kind of sudden, random tenderness is not really a new thing for me; I’ve always been someone who can be rendered incapacitated by the sight of an old man looking lost in an airport. But I guess it does feel more or worse this year. When that episode of SNL ended, another began, and it was a few years old but I still didn’t recognize the names of some of the featured players and I was thrust into this fantasy of them calling their moms (“I’m going to be on SNL!”) and dreaming about scaling Eddie Murphy-esque heights only to find themselves stalled permanently in the realm of the featured players and I cried some more and thought, This is maybe a little bit too much crying. 

A few weeks ago I was in a desert outside Jaisalmer, riding a camel through some sand dunes, and I thought: I did not expect to be riding a camel this year. I did not expect to be riding a camel, I did not expect to be going to therapy, I did not expect to be crying on treadmills. I did not expect to become a person who finds herself frozen in the middle of a sidewalk, staring up at a particularly interesting cloud formation, and thinking, What majesty is this thing we call life, despite its horrors! But here we are. I’ve been trying hard to cut back on talking about my sadness online, because I know that it’s going to ease in time and I don’t want to have established it as the defining fact about me. But right now, it is a fact about me. It can take so many different forms, from the dull to the excruciating to the darkly hilarious (do you know that you can still experience postpartum hair loss even when you don’t give birth to a living baby? It’s true!) I find it all weirdly interesting, and I feel closest to the friends who find it interesting too. The odd thing is, the friends who are the most comfortable by far with my sadness are all people I’ve met through the internet. I have actual family members who never said anything to me about what happened and probably never will, but lovely Adrienne (whom I’ve met twice in my life!) put a remembrance card for my daughter in the Tucson All Souls’ Day procession urn. How does anyone figure out how to be this kind? I’ve lived through this kindness and still don’t know that I’ll be able to replicate it when necessary. All it takes is the ability to somehow say without words, I am here and you are suffering but your suffering does not terrify or disgust me. It’s harder than it sounds, I guess.

Anyway, we went to India. In India, a group of teen girls in school uniforms swamped us to get their pictures taken, because we are white; one girl wrapped her arms around me and I could feel her literally trembling with excitement. We went to a mall with our friend’s mom and her friend, whose toenail was falling off; “I was so desperate to see you,” the friend told our friend’s mom, “I said, Fuck the doctor!The mall had an Auntie Anne’s. A retired colonel in the Indian army and his doctor wife fed us and told us stories and then showed us a clip reel of the Colonel’s burgeoning Bollywood career. We sat on a plane in front of Heidi Klum. We took a sunrise boat trip along the Ganges. Monkeys, cows, goats, bats, street dogs. Kevin got a sitar lesson. We both got a cooking lesson. A man in a textile shop piled scarf upon scarf upon me, and when I wanted to buy two he was angry and insulted. “I have tourists coming in here buying six thousand, seven thousand scarves!” he said. A man in another textile shop was angry and insulted when we didn’t buy anything. “You know Richard Gere? Richard Gere came here!” he said. We tied a bit of thread to the wall of a tomb inside of a mosque and made a wish, because those wishes are supposed to come true; I had to sit down after, because I was crying, and a group of children gathered around us and tried to sell us things. “No no no no no,” I said, and they echoed me, “No no no no no,” and laughed hysterically. It was very hot. It was very beautiful. A cab driver told us very matter-of-factly about how he’d lost his job teaching English history because he couldn’t afford the bribes. In the hotel rooms we’d watch Bollywood movies and try to guess what year they’d been released; we always guessed a decade too early. In the desert we lay on a roof and looked at the stars and felt very tiny but okay. 

Back home now, I’ve been doing the necessary work, trying to be healthy, trying to be patient, trying to remember that everything I want is possible, if not now, then soon. I listen to Hamilton. I watch TV. I come to terms with the fact that I am not writing very well or very quickly and that that’s okay, that my mind is not broken, at least not forever. I still spend too little time reading books and too much time reading my Twitter feed, that constant stream of outrage and self-promotion (and sometimes, I suspect, a little bit of outrage as self-promotion?). But winter is coming and something’s bound to shift soon. Some space will open up in my brain for newer and brighter things, a little bit at a time until the sad thing is no longer the main thing. I suspect I can handle the wait. 

I think the main assassin’s costumes (Altair,Ezio,Connor, and Edward) are very exaggerated , don’t get me wrong they are badass and I love each outfit, but I think they would be very useless in a crowd, I mean the only one I can see getting into the crowd is Arno, his costume really looks like normal clothing, like a coat with a hood, I could see the assassins wearing their normal clothes but with the addition of hoods, not with a complete uniform, and to top it, they are the only ones that use pure white and red ornaments, at least Ezio got the idea in Revelations and used something darker…