when i had brown hair

i. I always believed Love would have blue eyes and blonde hair.
I assumed Love would love to read,
and know exactly what to do
when my thoughts became too loud.
Love would also love to play Mario with me,
and would stand up to the mean kids at school.
Love never came.

ii. Love stumbled into my life when I was twelve years old.
Love had brown eyes and hair to match;
Love loved soccer and his sisters.
Love loved me—but not in the way I wanted Love to.
I watched Love, love so many others, but not me—
never me.

iii. In high school, love had blue eyes,
but he had blonde hair
with too much hair gel in it.
Love wore plaid everyday,
and played video games all night.
Love left without a goodbye.
Love never knew he was Love.

iv. Love has green eyes and blonde hair.
Love plays the ukulele and loves to
take literature classes.
Love has a quiet disposition,
and a contagious smile.
Love makes my hands stop shaking,
and slows down my thoughts
when they become too much.

v. Love does not know he is Love,
but that’s okay–maybe Love
does not need to know.
Maybe Love will not stay;
maybe Love cannot stay.
Maybe Love can only stay
for a short time,
but Love—
Love is here now.

If I ever have to say goodbye to Love,
I will cherish the time I had with him,
and I will remember that Love was here for the exact
amount of time Love needed to be,
and now, Love must go
where Love is needed.
—  the (incomplete) story of Love in five parts (28/52) by (DS) [insp.]

anonymous asked:

I enjoy the fact that you rejoice in Chalo's universality in appearance. It is much more fun than those who attempt to find/portray their pets as the most unique visual experience. Good stuff.

all things are Chalo, Chalo is all things



A mouthful of a name for the compulsion to pull out your own hair. All hair, the hair on your head, arms, your eyelashes, eyebrows. Lots of people have it, it’s usually paired with anxiety and other lovely issues.  

Mine got worse when I felt anxious, my fingers would just curl up in my hair and I’d pluck a strand out. Then another one. And another one. During high school I’d beg the principal to allow me to wear a hat to school so no one could see the bald patches but he told me ‘Just stop pulling out your hair.’

Needless to say, I got picked on. A lot.

I suppose it was a learned habit though.

My mother pulled out her hair too.

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Golden-haired” Kyungsoo during Wolf era

liverpepper twins!! i get a lot of messages asking ‘how close do you think the twins actually are’ and IMO!! THEY ARE VERY CLOSE!! AND LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH!!! so i drew them at age 13 when roxas still had brown hair hehe

Creepypasta #1032: Jenny Martin

Length: Long

When I was younger, about eight, I think, Jenny Martin from down the road would come babysit me. 

For the most part, Jenny was a really great babysitter. It was during the summer, when my parents had to work, so she and I would spend the whole day together. From memory, she was really tall, but that could be because everyone is tall when you’re eight. She had brown hair, brown eyes and freckles. I think she was fifteen or sixteen. Jenny always loved doing the things I loved doing. She would play Barbies with me, and finger paint and give me a cookie at lunch. Sometimes we’d walk to the park and have a picnic lunch. She was really great.

I think my parents would come home at 4:30, because she always left, just before dinner. And my mom and dad would ask how my day was, and I would hop around and tell them all the fun I’ve had. Those summer days were great. But then, school started. My parents wanted the occasional date night, sometimes worked longer hours, etc. So Jenny would come over after school, and stay really late.

The first few nights were fine. We had things like chicken nuggets or Mac ’n’ Cheese, or hot dogs for dinner. One night, that I remember really clearly though, we had chicken breast. My mom had left a recipe and all the spices on the counter, but I remember Jenny didn’t touch a single one. And when dinner was served, sitting beside some raw veggies, was an equally raw piece of chicken. I remember being really confused and pointed out to Jenny that I didn’t think it was cooked right. And she said,

“Raw is a delicacy. Eat up.” I didn’t know what delicacy meant, but it sounded fancy, and I trusted her, so I ate the meat. Jenny did too; she tore into it like it a starving dog, and blood dripped off her fingers, and fat smeared her mouth. She licked her lips and sucked her fingers before cleaning up.

Since I was eight years old, I naturally had a bedtime, which my mom tells me was 7:30. So at 7:25, Jenny would help me brush my teeth and get into my PJs and read me a bedtime story, before tucking me in.

I always fell asleep rather quickly; I think most little kids do. And since I didn’t have a clock in my room, I have no idea how long it was before I woke up to strange sounds coming from the downstairs. If I had been any older I would have investigated. But my eight-year-old self would hunker under the blankets and squeeze her eyes shut, trying desperately to ignore the faint gurgling and scratching coming from the living room.

The next morning, I’d tell my parents there were funny sounds from downstairs and they told me Jenny heard them too. Apparently, the water heater needed a new pipe or something. I don’t remember exactly the story Jenny told them, but I bought it.

I’m pretty sure I was an accident. Now that I’m older, I’ve heard stories of how neither of my parents wanted kids, and a drunk Uncle Finn told me that I was conceived in the bushes of a Van Halen concert. My parents were pretty good parents - are pretty good parents, but even as a kid, I could tell they didn’t like having me tag along. So the nights with Jenny slowly became more frequent as they trusted her more and more.

About a month after the water heater story, I decided to see if it really was the water heater. Like usual, I brushed my teeth, changed, read a story and went to bed. And like usual, I woke up who-knows-how-much later to weird noises. I grabbed the flashlight I had previously stashed under my pillow (I would need it for the basement) and slowly crept from my bed. I creaked open my bedroom door, and made my way towards the sounds. I remember being confused, because the gurgling seemed to be coming from the living room – where Jenny was, and not the basement which was in a different direction. I reasoned the sounds must be coming from a vent or something.

I turned off the flashlight because I didn’t want Jenny to catch me snooping around, and besides, the TV light was plenty to see by. The noises were really loud in the living room. I slowly peeked my head around the corner of the door way. Jenny sat on the couch, with her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her knees and her hair falling over her downward-tilted face. She wasn’t even facing the TV. She was facing me.

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See? Me from 2014 when I only identified as a trans male. I usually had shorter brown hair, but my mom would dye it when she was still around. Mens coat and sweater. No make up, brows arent done. (I still dont do my brows and only wear makeup rarely.) See? Im a “real trans” here.

But in 2017. I’m bigender gender nonconforming. (GNC) Its partially spiritually partially that the white in the trans flag means nonbinary and other gender identities besides cis. Being nonconforming and/or nonbinary IS being trans. Whether I look like above or how I look now, Im Dan and I use he/him or they/them. I dont hurt you. Block me if I look too feminine for you. Bye.

Me after crying feat my fellow trans boyfriends hand

Smoaked 3/?

Summary: Felicity and her young daughter Molly move to Star City to escape a stalker ex-boyfriend.Thank you so much for proofing @almondblossomme!

All chapters are available on AO3.

The long weekend gave me extra time to write. Thanks to all those who have taken the time to read, like and comment on this story - it means so much!


                                                   3. Daddy’s Girl

“In summary, keep your head on a swivel. All intel points to Cooper Sheldon arriving in Star City any day. Agents Queen and Diggle will run point on protecting the Smoaks with support from lower level agents but I think we all agree we’d rather bring Sheldon down before he interacts with the Smoaks.” Amanda Waller, the head of ARGUS, closed her briefing book and exited the room.

The squad assigned to the Sheldon case, which consisted of six men and women in total, nodded in agreement.

“The sooner we bring this guy down the better,” John said turning to his partner.

“Agreed. Can you head back to my office with me? I have some things I need to fill you on.”

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Ok but fr, the Evolution of Jacksepticeye video gave me more feels than RYC 100 did. That’s no shade to RYC, and part of it was just the mood I was in the day RYC 100 came out, but today’s video was just more impactful for me.

I haven’t been here forever. I found Jack in early 2015 or maybe late 2014, near the 5 million milestone. I never knew accent-dampening, slightly-uncomfortable-in-his-skin Jack. I’ve only known this Jack (although I did get to know the channel when he had brown hair, lol). And if I’m totally honest, I don’t know how I would’ve reacted to old-school Jack. Would I have enjoyed the content? Would I have subscribed? I can’t say for sure. I very well might not have. And while part of me feels guilty for thinking I wouldn’t have liked that version of him/his content, I think it’s also a good sign of how much being himself has been a good thing.

Because this Jack? The Jack I first found? He’s a fucking keeper. I bet old Jack was, too, but the world couldn’t see his light shine as brightly. Jack is someone that couldn’t possibly be forgotten by those who’ve become regular watchers of the channel and/or members of this community. I can’t promise that he’ll be remembered in 100 years, but I can promise that he’ll be remembered as long as at least one fan still lives. He’s a part of millions of individual hearts and souls. They say that’s the way life continues after death - in the memories others carry of you. So even if Jack loses or leaves the fame, even if YouTube shuts down tomorrow, Jack won’t be forgotten.

How could I ever lose the appreciation for and memory of a person who has helped change and develop who I am as a human being forever, who is a critical part of my daily routine, who has indirectly helped me nourish creativity I’d lost or forgotten, who has brought me so many laughs and so many thoughtful moments? No, that wouldn’t be possible. And I know many of you feel the same way.

But on that note, I want to make sure I don’t take this/him for granted. That I don’t fall into a state of apathy where I let a lot of videos go unwatched or stop feeling connected. And that I don’t EVER start to think that he owes us content or interaction. I’ve never felt that way, but I never want to, either. I hope others don’t.

It’s human to have your interests change, and it’s natural for activities or material things or ‘celebrities’ to fade away. It’s practically inevitable that Jack will eventually stop making videos, even if it’s decades from now when he’s simply too old to, haha. It could also happen next week. There is no guarantee in this existence that anything will last. But I’m so glad this does for now, and that he does. It’s pretty damn amazing that out of all the eons humans have existed, Jack happened to come sound in a time when the Internet existed and he could reach a global audience.

So while none of us can ever say for sure that we’ll be watching until the very last video goes up, I can confirm that there is no good reason we wouldn’t. And I can look Jack in the eye and guarantee with no hesitation that he won’t be forgotten any time in the foreseeable future. So Jack, don’t worry about it, and don’t be afraid to make change. The channel won’t collapse from under you as long as you continue to be the lovely person you are. Game styles, recording rooms, hair, whatever - that’s all just the accessory to the real reason people stick around and you’re so successful: We’re watching the videos because we like YOU.