I was eight years old when you became the First Lady. I remember that I liked your hair, and your headbands, and how pretty and young you seemed, standing with your charming husband, waving at the crowd.
There were jokes about you in my small town. You were too powerful, too bold, too attached to your maiden name. You made people nervous. In my house, though, you were admired. My father called you “Mrs. Clinton,” and we were proud to see you in the White House.
And then when I was older, following politics on my own, you were in the Senate. All the people who had said you were too smart, too pushy, too much, to be a First Lady, had to see you succeed all on your own. I wasn’t from New York, but it still felt, a little, like you represented me.
I was so happy when Obama appointed you Secretary of State. I canvassed for him in 2008, as charmed and energized by him as everyone else, but I wished that it hadn’t had to be at the expense of your own campaign. Seeing you as Secretary was a balm, and you seemed to thrive. Do you remember when that picture became famous, the photo of you texting on Air Force One? God, I loved it. You had arrived. You looked like the most powerful woman in the world, like all of that responsibility rested easy on your shoulders. You were a badass.
As I watched you this fall, debating against a man who made a mockery of democracy, I took comfort in the way you handled yourself. You looked like a president, for all that we’d never had one who looked like you before.
I didn’t believe you could lose this thing, Hillary. When I cast my ballot for you, it felt momentous. It felt like it meant something. And it did. It did.
That’s what I want you to know. I can’t imagine how it felt when you realized that somehow, for reasons that hurt my heart so deeply I can barely breathe, Trump was going to win. But I want you to know that you did not fail. America failed you, but you did not fail.
Because you know what? I’ve grown up with you. Your very presence in the world has changed the parameters of mine. I grew up watching you fight your way through Washington, and every step you took was also a step for me, and for every other woman in this country.
So thank you, Hillary, for the work you have done and will continue to do. I’m sorry you won’t be my president, but I hope you realize that you’ve been so many other things to so very many women.
a/n: HEY MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE IF YOu celebrate Christmas and if not I hope you have a delightful day anyway i was going to queue this to post later but nah it’s 4:30 AM i need a nap okay love u bye
“It’s open!” You call toward the front door from the kitchen, wiping your hands on the edge of your apron. You push the gingerbread house away from the edge of the counter and walk out of the kitchen to see who’s shown up an hour early to your party.
As you’re walking through the doorway, your reindeer antler headband catches on a particularly low strand of lights and clatters to the floor.
“Uh oh,” Daveed laughs. “Dasher down.”
You raise an eyebrow at him, “I’m actually Vixen, thank you.” You bend down to pick your antlers up and slide them back on your head.
Request: Could you do 12 and 14 with Leonard Snart (Christmas prompt) Hugs and kisses ;)
‘12: “Why are you humming ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’?”’ and ‘14: “Ew being nice to people for two days. Not my kind of holiday.”’
a/n: hell yea Xmas Len! BEWARE: FLUFF WARNING
For some reason Len hates Christmas. Which is crazy; who hates Christmas?! With your reindeer headband on, you skip around the Waiverider, trying to find the blue eyed man. Each step you took jangled thanks to the bells on the antlers.
“I don’t want a lot for Christmas…” you begin to sing, music echoing through your head. “There’s just one thing I need…” your voice grows soft, into a slight buzz of the melody as you turn the corner. Your hands behind your back as your feet shuffle from one to the other, heading towards the main room.
But you ram into someone, putting a pause on your glee. You peer up to see Len, smirking ever so slightly. “Why are you humming ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’?” he drawls, huffing out a sigh while he glances down at you.
A smile stretches your face. “‘Cuz all I want for Christmas is you!” you cheekily muse, shaking your head from side to side. The tiny jingle bells ringing with your movement. Ah, how you love this headband.
Len eyes the reindeer antlers with his icey aqua colored orbs, a petty grin sneaking on his lips cautiously. “Cute.” he snorts. His navy button up crinkles against his body as he crosses an arm over his chest; the other arm being used as support on the wall.
One loud huff exits your lips and you pout. “Look, Ebenezer Scrooge, I don’t get it! Why don’t you like Christmas? Everyone likes Christmas! Why don’t you, Len, huh?” you whine, hitting his shoulder. “It’s when everyone is nice for once!” you protest, balling the end of your ugly off-white Christmas sweater in your fist.
For a moment, he’s silent; just gazing at you and your attire. “Ew, being nice to people for two days. Not my kind of holiday.” he shrugs nonchalantly, ignoring your (adorable) glare.
You give him a death stare, “Are you kidding me? Can’t you just…be happy? Do I need to get a Christmas miracle up in here?” you grumble, pouting at your shoes. “Can you at least wear the hat? Please?” you beg, revealing the bright red Santa Claus hat from behind your back; looking up at him with pleading eyes.
He breathes out through his nose, bending down to your level. “Fine.” You rejoice, jumping a little before sliding the hat over his buzzed head. The white pompom hangs to his shoulder. He smiles, rolling his eyes, “Lead the way, deer.” he snickers; his heart racing when you hold his hand. Christmas isn’t too bad Len supposes…
“Sorry, I Can’t Help It; You’re Too Adorable” (Simon Dominic)
Requested by anon
“All ready, sweetie?” you asked, adjusting your daughter’s headband.
She nodded, smiling angelically up at you.
“All right, let’s go show daddy.” You took her hand in yours, a smile on your face as you led her into the living room, where Kiseok was sitting on the couch. Immediately he looked up, his lips curving into a giant grin when he saw Minji’s costume.
“Oh my goodness,” he said, crossing the room to stand in front of his daughter. “You look great! I knew you two would manage to find a good costume.”
You chuckled, remembering your frenzied rush through the mall yesterday with Minji, trying to find her a costume. Finally you had found a pumpkin costume that you weren’t sure she’d like, but she did, so you bought it. You were also glad she liked it because she looked ridiculously cute in it.
Kiseok knelt, taking his daughter’s hands in his. “Are you looking forward to trick-or-treating?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes!”
This was her first year trick-or-treating and she had been chattering excitedly about it for weeks. Kiseok reached out, running his fingers through her silky, curly hair, knocking her headband slightly askew. “Daddy!” she protested. “You’re messing it up!”
“Sorry, I can’t help it; you’re too adorable,” Kiseok said, straightening the headband.
He always liked to assist you in putting away your things. He was helpful like that.
Or maybe it was an element of curiosity; an excuse to go through your stuff with you standing there so he couldn’t get in trouble. Whatever the motivation, whenever you visited, Sanha could always be founding giving a help handing when you arrived to get you comfortable and settled.
“Why do you have this in here?” He giggled as he pulled out a pair of jingling, furry cat ears from your suit case.
You blushed with mild embarrassment, and shrugged.
“I thought they might look cute on you.”
He scoffed with disgust. He rose from where he was sitting and took the step toward you, placing the headband on your head. You felt your cheeks grow hotter, from something else this time. Maybe it was because you felt every ounce of his power with all his height towering over you.
“I think you’re getting too many ideas from the fans.” He gently pecked you on the forehead. “Don’t forget who’s the Master here and who’s the little Kitty.”
He was giving you that look. With fire in his eyes and a unique, dominant glint.
“I don’t think you’ll let me forget too easily, Sanha.” You felt your own submission setting in, especially with him, so comfortable and secure.
“Good, now strip down and get on the bed for me, little Kitty. But leave the ears on.” His voice was a low rumble that went straight through you.
You couldn’t help but follow the instruction.
(A/N: this was just a quick little playful blurb because i wanna write more for all of Astro and i’m still getting settled into writing for Sanha. but honestly in this new era, after he got out of the bad perm ginger Weasley orphan hair and into the handsome dark hair, i really really could see his attractiveness instead of just his cheeks and his huge eyes. (also it helped that i went back and watched some of their bts dance covers). but yeah please enjoy this and also enjoy yelling at me in my inbox asking me to delete it if you haven’t read the faq. ;) -Tanisha<3)
Game: Mystic Messenger Pairing: Jaehee Kang x MC / Basically: An adorable, Jealous Jaehee
MC decided to dress up as a cat for Halloween. Jaehee thinks her
friend is cute at first, but when certain comments on how Jumin might
like it are made… well, let’s just say Jaehee realizes certain feelings that demand to be acted upon.
•Partymaster: a disco ball that causes everything in a 20ft radius to make a DC 15 will save or dance uncontrollably
•Doppledanger: An orb that transforms into a copy of you that explodes after its turn ends
•Retro Vest: a vest that allows you to once per day, as a swift action, return to where you started your turn
•Ninja headband: When opportunity attacked, reflex DC the attack roll to dodge.
•Just a fucking flashbang grenade. nothing magic it’s a grenade
Imagine a pocket-sized you peering into the mirror as you apply the last of your makeup: three distinct whiskers on each cheek, and a dollop of pink on the nose. You adjust your headband of cat ears and smooth down your hair before deeming yourself presentable, and dash out of your dollhouse.
You wave erratically at Hoseok, who was preoccupied messing with the sleeve of his skeleton costume. He smiles and offers a palm for you to clamber onto before whisking you away and to the kitchen.
Due to your size and the boys’ popularity, the managers had decided that going out and about on Halloween wouldn’t be the greatest idea. The news had crushed you the most, so Hoseok had come up with an alternative activity.
He thumbs his phone until a familiar song begins to trill from the speakers. You take your position, just as you’ve practiced, and begin to follow along, your little black tail swishing behind you. You sway your hips, kick your feet, and swing your arms in perfect rhythm, earning ooh’s and ah’s from your dance instructor.
At the end of AOA’s Like A Cat, you bow and blow kisses while Hoseok claps and cheers. Neither of you notice your additional audience until their applause raises in volume. You peek over Hoseok’s shoulder to see the other six boys crowding the doorway, all dressed up and smiling.
Your ensuing blush could shame tomatoes as you leap into a nearby coffee mug, embarrassed that you’d been caught during dress rehearsal.
Hoseok plucks you out and reassures you that your performance was flawless, and plants a kiss on your forehead.