Just another goddamn millennial

•37. ADHD. autistic. pansexual. nonbinary. obsessed with many things. •

[sparklemaia]

yes I'm now on the other side of top surgery and I'm allowed to lift things again 💪 You might have already seen this one on my substack -- did u know you can subscribe to my substack for early access to comics like this?! Sent directly to your email inbox??? FOR FREE????? (there is also an optional paid tier for exclusive bonus content for five bucks a month but like 80% of my posts will be free and publicly available) ty ily♥

[ngatwa]

The choreography was very much about the connection forming and vibing between the two characters. The day that we performed the dance is so far my favourite day on set.

[thelvadams]

DOCTOR WHO • 'The Church on Ruby Road'

#they were over 2000 years old #they should have been at the club

[neverlandtimelord]

Queer joy.

[katestewartt]

Their dynamic looks so interesting already!

[taylorswifts13]

[thisismetryings-things]

so high school 🏹

[aridante]

Visit Original Link

and i don’t want the world to see me, ‘cause i don’t think that they’d understand.

[neverlandtimelord]

Holy shit this is PHENOMENAL

[marceline2174]

here i go

[sartorialadventure]

Twitter thread

^Photographer: @lillianliuphotography Model: @theresafractale Make-up: @ladyfreakshow​ Hair: @iamdhair_stylist Designer: @lindafriesen.couture

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^Photographer: @thewitchinghourphotography Model: @tee.pimentel

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^Photographer: @simplysavannahart​ Model: @shiennegh Designer: @itisknown

^Photographer: @anniebertramphoto Model: @theresafractale Korset: @royalblack_couture Make-up: @isabellakiefer_makeupandhair

Keep reading

[neverlandtimelord]

Just part of a bigger thing I’m working on.

—————

I was furious, and exhausted. I felt like I was in a bad 90s movie with the rain pounding so hard, I had to yell to be heard. Even the streetlight above me was flickering in a very sinister way.

He looked at me with those sapphire eyes, those eyes that would tear into your soul if you didn’t look away in time. But now, he had a glazed over look, like he had been staring into the sun for too long. Or just high on heroin again.

I bit the inside of my cheek, knowing I needed to push him away, but still hating myself for it.

“So, what? I’m just supposed to be totally fucking fine with finding my best friend BASICALLY DEAD in a fucking alley?! Like I’m just supposed to shrug off the fact that you overdosed this morning? I got lucky and happened to find you and gave you a Narcan shot and brought you back, and you repay me by taking my last $20, disappearing all day, and when you do show back up you’re high as hell on heroin looking for a dry place to sleep?! Fuck you Andy. Sleep in the rain!”

I taste blood, I can’t tell if it’s from my cheek or lip that I bit, maybe both. I’m too angry to cry, too numb to feel pity. And he just stares at me with those eyes that used to be so captivating that now just seem empty and cold.

“Can you at least scream at me from inside? It’s raining, you know?” He says flatly, and almost smirks.

I am fire and rage and fury. I don’t care that we’ve been best friends since we were 11, I don’t care that he was the first person I had sex with, I don’t care that he was always around to talk too when some girl broke my heart, I don’t care that’s he’s my person. Right now, it’s not even him.

I turn away from him and walk the half block to my house, I flip on the porch light, and sit down on the swing. Twenty seconds later he’s sitting next to me, smoking a cigarette and staring blankly at me.

“Why are you here, Andy? Don’t you have other friends to hang out with?” I say it as calmly and flatly as I can, refusing to let him force more emotions out of me.

“I don’t. You’re the last one left.” As he says it, there’s a trace of the old Andy, the real him, in there, and my chest gets tight.

“And I wonder why?” I roll my eyes, and pick up a joint from the table by the swing. He hands me a lighter.

“Ten years is a long time, October.” He’s doing that thing again, the thing where he wants me to feel bad for him, so he brings up how long we’ve been friends.

“Yeah, too long.” I say, trying not to scream. Trying not to remember his basically dead body in that alleyway, and trying to not get that image of him mixed with the image of the chubby faced, sapphire eyed kid I met on my 11th birthday. And here we are on my 21st birthday with the world exploding around us, inside us, and goddamnit this is not how I wanted to spend this day.

I was supposed to go out to decadent lesbian bar downtown, and find someone to buy me drinks and take me home for the night, that’s it. Just simple fun, but then my best friend overdosed in an alleyway and now we’re fighting in a thunderstorm and I’m definitely not getting laid tonight. I take a long drag on the joint and exhale as slowly as I can.

“I’m done Andy.”

“You always say that” he says, almost playful. I want to scream.

“No. I mean it. I’m done. I’ll help you get into rehab, but I’m done....” I want to bubble over.

“You always mean it ‘Tober. But you always come back to me.”

I spring up from the porch swing, almost causing him to fall off.

“You didn’t even thank me! I brought you back from the dead, AGAIN! And you didn’t even thank me!”

“Thank you” he says, looking up at me slowly.

I roll my eyes, knowing he probably didn’t even notice because of the night and the rain.

“You need to leave. Now.”

“October, it’s raining. I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“And that’s your goddamn fault! And I’m not letting you do this to me anymore! I’m fucking serious! Leave, now!”

I’m screaming, I’m louder than the storm. I am pure rage and betrayal and pain.

I grab him by the hoodie and try to pull him up.

He stares at me , not moving.

“Just go. Go!” I refuse to cry, I am breaking in half but I will not cry.

Finally he stands up, and puts his hand on my shoulder.

“October, I’m sorry. I’m a fuck up, okay? You know that. Come on.”

I cross my arms and glare at him. What if he just overdoses in an alley again and I’m not there? I shake my head, he is not my responsibility, I can’t keep ruining my life for him.

“I know you’re going to sleep on the porch anyway, just be fucking gone before I leave for work.” I sigh, resigned and exhausted. I walk to the door and make a point to not look at him. “And Andy, don’t come back. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Don’t. come. back.”

I don’t wait for him to say anything, I slam the door, lock it, and turn off the porch light.

I walk to the couch and collapse, finally letting myself cry. I can’t stop. I want to run outside and drag him inside, and forgive him. But I can’t, cause it’s killing me. But I can’t stop thinking that if I don’t open that door, he will end up dead in that alleyway.

I don’t open the door, and in the morning he’s gone.

[neverlandtimelord]

[langblrwhy]

[little-bella-sub-deactivated202]

A Farewell to Hanson

As a black woman i can honestly say the past two weeks have been the most emotionally and mentally challenging and exhausting days I've ever gone through in my life. I've lost friends. There's coworkers that don't engage with me anymore. Now I've lost my favorite band of 23 years. All because i stand and march for my right to exist and its made white america uncomfortable. It's painful for us too.

I feel guilty in a way. Because i know Zac has been crying. But so have i. Our pain is different. The fact he hasn't denounced any of his postings only further proves his guilt. I'm not here to rub salt on wounds - quite frankly I'm tired of seeing people hurting and I'm tired of being angry about it. All i ask is for accountability, an open conversation, a "message from the band". But i can't even get THAT. I get a "shame on you" post from Zac's wife whom had nothing to do with all of this in the first place.

I won't apologize for my black feelings because nobody's had to live my life. I won't ask anyone to feel sorry for me either. I am just hurt so bad because i poured so much of my life into this band. Hanson grew up with me and i grew up with Hanson. It just isn't fair that my favorite brother would support a man shooting my black son for wearing a hoodie in the wrong neighborhood. That he would mock Rosa Parks and refugees. That is where i draw the line. I have to walk away at this point and just let them go.

I wish them well and hope they can recover and really learn from this. Hell maybe they'll finally record that new album we've all been waiting on lol.

I personally just wanted to say thank you to all you fellow fansons for stepping up and being our voice - we to get drowned out in the crowd. 😉

Much love!

I've taken a lot of heat for being outspoken about this, and i have to remember it's because my life doesn't matter to them. But it matters to you and that means so much to me. This is more than just the music, and i just cannot support songs written at the hands of systematic supremacy. Thanks again. I truly love you all. Let's keep in touch.

-xoxo

[neverlandtimelord]

I’m a queer white fan....I’m walking away too.

[neverlandtimelord]

I’m too heartbroken to talk about it anymore.

[little-bella-sub-deactivated202]

I have been a Hanson fan since i was 9 years old. 1997 when i first heard MMMBop on MTV I was hooked. Middle of Nowhere took me down a rabbit hole of music and Tulsa, Tokyo, and the Middle of Nowhere let me go around the world with my new favorite band.

To me, liking Hanson was nothing out of the ordinary, but to the outside that wasn't the case.

"Eww black people aren't supposed to listen to Hanson."

"Wait, YOU like Hanson?"

"You're going to a Hanson concert? Have you looked in the mirror?"

"Did you forget you're black?"

Oh yeah, that part. I was black. The amount of bullying i endured for just listening to their music was almost expected, i just never thought it would be magnified because of my race. I wore a Hanson tshirt to school only ONE time my entire life - it was the last day of school in the 6th grade. I didn't understand the attention until a friend said to me, "Well come on. I mean you ARE black.." i went to the girl's bathroom and cried, turned my shirt inside out and wore it that way for the rest of the day.

Once i was old enough to go to shows it was something else. It was fun, exciting, and thrilling even. However I had to learn how to be uncomfortable. Uncomfortable with the comments I'd hear ("she looks like she belongs at a snoop dogg show" - Underneath Tour Chicago 2006), uncomfortable with the way event staff treated me because i look so out of place, uncomfortable with the stank eyes, side eyes, and glares, uncomfortable listening to the way fans talk about the black lady in the House of Blues bathroom - she's my people! That's somebody's grandmaw!

I saw a quote today that said, "Racism is so American that people think protesting racism means protesting America." I understand people refrain from getting into any political talk because it's a sensitive topic and well, that's your personal right.

But racism isn't political.

I was born with this skin. And i have a better chance at dying, failing, and suffering because of it.

Black Lives Matter. How can you love the culture and not the people? That's hypocrisy. The foundation of rock and roll and gospel is rooted in songs of slavery.

When i stand for 12 hours to be in the 2nd bar balcony at a show and i still have the energy to jump and dance and scream, it's because the music has touched my soul so deep that i catch that spirit. To stand there and say i love my band and my band loves me.

But now i ask myself, do they REALLY love me? Or do they love what my people brought to the music industry so that they could thrive?

These past two weeks have been emotionally exhausting so i turned to the music of the band that's brought me comfort all these years. I check their social media pages for further comfort, but aside from the NASA launch there was silence.

Silence.

And it took us, the black fans, (and some pretty pissed off white ones) to get Hanson to finally step out into the world to say something. A very generic, dry, bullshit something. How can a band profit off the images of poor African children yet can't find the courage to tell their black fans that their lives matter? Do they know what it's like for us? For their friends Dimitrius and Will? Do they care?

At this point, i don't know. As a black woman I've felt so much pain these past 2 weeks i don't think i even have any room for more grief. Will I go on listening to Hanson? Most likely yes. Will it sound the same? No.

All those years of pain and bullying and awkwardness and being the only black girl, the token black girl, the girl willing to be brave enough to be out of place and black in white scenery... for my favorite band to refuse to say that any of that matters.

That hurts. That really, really fucking hurts.

[memesandlaughs]

[softmommyelle]

This kills me every fucking time

[neverlandtimelord]

Zac Hanson- I Don’t Wanna Stay Home (quarantine song)

He changed up his lyrics from their song “I Don’t Wanna Go Home”