I LOVE Calla Lillies. They're Such An Interesting Shape. And Phlox Flowers Smell Divine :D

being a self-taught artist with no formal training is having done art seriously since you were a young teenager and only finding out that you’re supposed to do warm up sketches every time you’re about to work on serious art when you’re fuckin twenty-five

I was walking through the toy aisle at Target when I found this thing and had a VIOLENT AND IMMEDIATE FLASHBACK to when JP first came out and they had a bunch of REALLY COOL T Rex toys that I would have sold one of my scrawny small-child limbs for but my mother wouldn’t get me one because they were “too violent and also ate people” :(

it's fucking me up how tv shows, movies, and even video games can't be "niche" content anymore

"All white people are racist--"

No group is all bad.

In any group you have a range of horrible assholes and blessedly wonderful people.

To say of any group that they're all racist, evil, oppressive is racism.

And yes, black and brown people can be racist. I've experienced it both because they thought I was white or because they saw I'm Hapa.

I'm sick and fucking tired of racist black folk getting away with saying ALL whites are racist and not looking to their own community.

My late mother was white. She was a wonderful, loving woman, to everyone. But people claim that because she was white she HAD to be racist. Even though she married an Southeast Asian man back when it was illegal in half of the American states.

And I am sick of white Liberals, especially self-hating white women, kissing ass and bowing to racist blacks in order to Signal Boost what Allies they are, so they can say "Other whites are racist, but not me." Girls, I guarantee when your back is turned they're saying nasty things about you, too. Racists think it's hilarious that you think they respect you.

And white Liberals:

Because you never do. Even with all the security videos and TikToks showing black folk beating up elder Asians, you haven't spoken out that those are Hate Crimes.

And I'm appalled by black folks who've gone all anti-Semitic. If you want white folks to remember Jim Crow and feel guilty (even if they didn't live then), how about you feel guilty about your willful ignorance about the Jews who marched for civil rights? Who were attacked. And those who were killed by the KKK. Who didn't have to put their lives at risk at all. They could have ignored the marches. But they didn't. They left safety and put themselves in danger.

And your thanks is to call Jews every horrible slur and tear down posters of Jewish people, including children, who are currently being held hostage.

Do you have mirrors? How about you go look in them. Ask yourself what Dr. King, who marched side-by-side with rabbis, would think of you?

Oh. Wait. I forgot. Y'all canceled Dr. King because he was "too nice." Talk about ingratitude.

I'm tired of being polite. If you say "all whites are" or "all Jews are" or "all asians are" you are racists as bad as any white person. You have no right to feel holier than thou, to feel superior, or more moral.

I remember the black folks I grew up with -- my mother was the only white in our neighborhood, and my dad and I the only asians, but there were a lot of mixed black kids, as there always are -- those folks who grew up with serious oppression. They became doctors, lawyers, educators, scientists, even in the worst of times, because they and their community believed in achievement, not victimhood.

Instead of moaning about racism, which is less legally than it was when I was a kid, why don't you tell children to concentrate on achievement? Because if black folks in the 1920s and 30s became professionals, you sure as hell can.

And stop being mad if we asians -- even half-Asians like me -- and Jews choose achievement instead of pointing fingers at others and crying that you can't get anywhere because Racism.

everyone drop me your favorite love songs im in a mood .

therapy: expensive

marathoning the lord of the rings trilogy: affordable, a natural anti-depressant, good for both heart and soul, some good fucking food

Why Should I Care - Billy Russo Part 24

A/N: This is a long chapter!

Warning: Unwanted touching

“It’s good to see you again Wilson.” You greeted the man.

“I’ve told you before my friends call me Willie.” He corrected you

“So we’re friends?” You gave him a questioning gaze as you stepped out of his touch. You almost forgot how imposing he was.

“I’d like to think so. I’ve always preferred your company to that of your ex’s.” He told you as he gave you a smile.

You knew Wilson Fisk could be a very dangerous man but you also knew he never took a shining to your ex, which was funny because your ex introduced you to him. You figured it was to get on Fisk’s good side but the joke was on him. Fisk still didn’t give two shits about your ex but did take an immediate liking to you.

“I think we can both agree on that.” You gave him a genuine smile.

“Well, shall we?” He asked gesturing to the door leading to the gala.

“I’ll be in a bit.” You told him. “I need a breather after that mess outside.”

“Very well. Just remember not to be a stranger.” He smiled at you before he left.

You wished you could have walked in with Wilson, it would have made you feel safer but you needed to get your head on right. Your ex was somewhere on the other side of those double doors and you were going to have to get close enough to touch him.

You almost turned to run when your phone buzzed. Taking a quick glance at it you saw it was a text from Maria.

-Hope you’re having fun.

-Kids miss you! We miss you!

She sent you an attached picture of all of them and that’s all you needed to see. It reminded you why you had to stop running.

You took a deep breath and straightened your back before you walked to the large double doors.

There were two men there opening the doors and you gave them a small nod before entering. Your eyes scanned the room looking at all the party goers until the landed on Billy.

Billy had hoped he got there before you. He set himself up by the bar, facing the doors, as he scanned the room. He didn’t spot you so he ordered a whiskey to keep up the ruse.

Once he received his drink his eyes scanned the room again as he brought his lips to his glass. His whole body stilled when he took in the sight of you.

He knew he saw you in that dress before but seeing you now took his breath away and he couldn’t help but to stare.

“That’s a nice piece of ass,” A man next to him said and Billy had to restrain himself for decking the guy.

“That’s a piece of art.” He corrected him with a sneer, still not taking his eyes off you.

You watched him as he gave you a small nod and you finally tore your eyes away. 

You had to do the daunting task of going face to face with your ex.

You took another deep breath before you set out. 

You made the small greetings when someone called out your name and did tour best to avoid getting stuck talking to someone. You wanted this night to be over quickly.

While it seemed like forever it didn’t take long to finally spot him. He was off to the side chatting up some rich older men. And if you didn’t know him better you would have found him charming and extremely good looking. But nowhere near as good looking as Billy; every bit of him was different compared to Billy.

He wore his traditional light tan suit, the same one he wore when he first took you out. He said it brought him good luck if it got a second date with you. At the time you thought the notice was cute and loved to see him wear it. Now you hated it with a passion, especially since he wore knowing he was forcing you to go with him.

His bleached blonde hair, which had once reminded you of a surfer now all it reminded you of was how it reflected how cold his heart was.

You gave a glance over to Billy in hopes to convey you’d found your mark. To your surprise, he was already staring at you. His dark eyes almost hypnotizing you but you managed to give a small motion with your head in the direction of your ex before you turned away.

When your eyes landed on him again he was already looking at you and a cocky smirk spread across his face; you wanted nothing more than to wipe it right off him but instead forced a small smile on your face.

He wasted no time, as he quickly excused himself, and made his way over to you and soon was standing inches away from you.

His hands quickly went to your hips and he held a tight hold, that you were sure was going to leave bruises. He pulled you flesh against his chest and rest his face in the crook of your neck. You noticed the two men off in the corner of the room take a few steps closer, rich boy really didn’t go anywhere without help.

“God I missed touching you.” He said as he nuzzled his nose against your skin.

You shivered from how cold his presence made you feel but unfortunately, he thought it was a different type of shiver.

“Don’t worry Baby Girl, I’ll warm you back up real quick.” He whispered just loud enough for you to hear and his hands traveled to your ass, where he gave it a quick squeeze. You gave a gasp at the sudden contact but barely had time to do anything before his hands started to circle back to your sides. His right hand gripped your hip again while his left hand continued to trail down to the slit of your dress.

“This isn’t the dress I picked out for you Baby Girl but I do love the easy access.” He said as he slides his hand under the cut and moved his fingers up your inner thigh.

You tried to push him back but his grip was too strong and his response was to bite down on the flesh of your neck.

Billy was still seated at the bar nursing his drink when you ex approached you. He noticed the drastic difference between himself and the man in front of you. The difference was night and day and he had to wonder if you would have given him a second look if your ex didn’t turn out how he did.

Would you have flirted with him the way you did if you could have that glamorous rich lifestyle? He didn’t think so. He was damaged goods and you deserved only the best in life. Things he couldn’t give you.

He was snapped from his thoughts when he saw what your ex was doing to you. His jaw tightened and his lips pursed as he was forced to sit there and watch him pull you close and roam his hands all over your body. He knew he couldn’t make a scene but he lost it when he saw him slide his hand in the slit of your dress. He gripped his glass so hard it broke. He was thankful that the room was loud enough for only two other people to pay notice, the bartender and the man who made the comment about you.

You had your eyes shut tight trying to remember how it felt when Billy had done the same but you couldn’t; it all felt wrong. You needed to stop this but he was just too damn strong. Stupid personal trainer was what you thought as you shot a quick look over to Billy to ask for help but the notion didn’t go unnoticed by your ex. His grip on your hip increased and he pulled his other hand back.

“Perhaps Drew was right in trying to collect you.” He seethed gripping your jaw tightly.

Your eyes were wide in shock for a brief moment before a glare settled in your features. “I have no idea what you’re on about?” You lied

“You don’t think I wouldn’t have my eyes on the door the whole night? I’ve seen the looks you’ve been sending pretty boy over there.” His said, his voice was growing with anger at every word.

He turned you around and pressed your back to his chest. He made sure you were facing Billy. You could see the silent rage on Billy’s face even from this far away.

“Do you think he enjoyed the show?” He whispered in your ear.

It was then that you realized he had set a trap. His location in the room and his actions before, they weren’t just to search you for a weapon but to display his claim on you in front of Billy and show you that he was steps ahead of you.

Billy noticed the look of distress on your face and moved to help you but was stopped short of taking a step forward. He felt the press of a gun’s barrel on his lower back.

You watched as Billy started to move towards you but quickly froze in his movements. “You’ve had a man on him all night.” You realized in fear.

“You always were a smart woman AJ. Just not smart enough to stay where you were supposed to.” He whispered in your ear.

“Maybe you just couldn’t handle me.” You spat back. You weren’t going to give him any satisfaction in his victory.

“And pretty boy could?” He laughed “I’ll make you a deal. Come back home with me and I’ll let this one live and leave that cute little family you’re so fond of alone." 

You knew that was a lie. You knew he would never let any man you were interested in live, especially if he found out how close you two had gotten. But you also knew Billy was trained and that was something he didn’t know. You just hope it would be enough of an advantage.

"Fine. You win. I’ll go with you. So long as you don’t kill him.” You turned your head to look him in the eyes.

“Shall we seal it with a kiss?” He asked before placing his mouth over yours. You gave no response to the kiss and it was over almost as quickly as it began.

He pulled away, still filled with rage when you didn’t return his kiss.

“Let’s go.” He ordered moving his hand to your wrist before pulling you towards the doors.

You failed to see the signal he sent his man to lead Billy out to finish him off but you already knew it would happen. This wasn’t the first time it’s happened after all. 

You were quickly rushed through the doors followed by the two men who held the door open for you, his men you realized.

He noticed the paparazzi still outside and turned to lead you out a side door of the hotel.

On your journey to the carpark, you heard one of the guy’s radio goes off. 

“Boss, it’s for you.” The guy to the left of him told him handing his radio over

“Go ahead.” He said with a grin you knew too well. 

“I got him out the back. Want me to finish him?" The man, who you assumed was the one behind Billy at the bar, asked.

"Yeah. Have fun. Radio when the job is done.” He answered.

It a long walk to the carpark, due to going out the side of the building, but it seemed all too quickly that the radio transmitted again confirming the kill. Billy was dead. He was dead and it was your fault. It was always your fault. All the deaths you’ve caused over the years because you were foolish enough to think you could escape this man.

And now you lost the only person you thought could help you permanently escape. You should have just left instead of trying to leave that stupid letter; then Billy would still be alive

 You felt empty as you allowed your body to be pushed into the back of a limo.

Tag List:

@lysawayne

@ms-delos

@rogueshadowkat

@the-blind-assassin-12

@likeorions​

@suchatinyinfinity

@something-tofightfor

@lynne1993

@editboutique

@whovianayesha

@funkycoldlatina

Me, aggressively at any given moment: I hope Alan Tudyk is having a good day and getting lots of jobs. 

Credit: Ashley McMinn

When I was 3 years old I went to a preschool that had this little green crocheted crocodile finger puppet that was my absolute favorite toy to play with of all time. I named her Chelsea, because Chelsea starts with C and crocodile starts with C and more often than not wild animals in fiction aimed at kids have names that start with the same first letter as their species. I played with Chelsea every day, because she was my favorite toy, and because the other kids weren't really interested in her, and also because I eventually started to hide her in a special secret spot in the room so no one else would find her before I did. She was so beloved by me that when I graduated from preschool, my teachers gave Chelsea to me permanently, because it was clear no one else would ever love that little crochet crocodile as much as me anyway (in part because I hid her). They waited a few weeks after I graduated before doing it, too, and sent Chelsea with some post cards as if the crocodile had been on a whirlwind "travel the world" vacation before deciding to come live with me.

And Chelsea remained my favorite toy all through my childhood. There were others I loved nearly as much, like my Imperial Godzilla and the big red T.rex from the first Jurassic Park toy line and my tiny knockoff plush Charmander, but Chelsea always held the place of honor in my heart. She was my absolute favorite toy.

I kept a lot of my favorite toys through adolescence, even if social pressure eventually got me to give away a lot of them (and some, y'know, broke). That's obviously not surprising to you if you've followed my blog, since I still collect toys into my adulthood. But it's important to note because while I know I made a conscious effort to never throw out Chelsea every time I pared down my collection... at some point, she went missing.

I became aware of it when I graduated from high school. I was feeling really emotional about leaving that stage of my life and, y'know, becoming an adult and shit, and in that state I decided to find Chelsea to reassure myself that I hadn't entirely left childhood behind. But Chelsea wasn't there. No matter how hard I looked, I could not find Chelsea anyway.

And that was, like, devastating, because the only explanation was that somehow, at some point, I had accidentally tossed her out with some other "childhood junk" while trying to grow up and be responsible in my teen years. I had literally thrown away my childhood in a careless attempt to be more grown up.

Of course I knew she was just a toy - nothing more than some yarn twisted together in the loose shape of a crocodile, lifeless and soul-less and more or less worthless in the objective light of day. But she was also Chelsea, my best friend since i was three, my stalwart little pal, a source of comfort for most of my life at that point, and I had just... tossed her out! Like garbage! What kind of person was I becoming if I could do that to my best friend?

I was very visibly distraught, and my mom noticed. Being very crafty, she tried to find the pattern for Chelsea so she could knit me a new one. The problem is, she had no idea where to find said pattern. She checked all her books of crochet patterns, and when that failed she tried the internet, but no matter how hard she looked, she found nothing.

So my mom found the next best thing.

The original Chelsea was a tiny finger puppet, and I had "met" her when I was three. Well, I was eighteen now - shouldn't Chelsea have grown too? And as has been established, this crocodile was fond of whirlwind vacations. My mom found a pattern that looked as much like Chelsea as possible while also being a much bigger crocodile, and gifted her to me before I left for college - to show that while we can't stop the flow of time or how it changes us, that doesn't mean we have to leave it behind.

And yeah, I decided to believe it. That's Chelsea now. Yeah, I know that in reality it's a completely different set of yarn made by my mom rather than... whoever it was that crocheted the original Chelsea, but then, Chelsea was never really the yarn. She was the feelings I put into the yarn, you know? So that's Chelsea, all grown up, and still my most prized toy.

...

Flash forward... Jesus, eighteen years, holy shit. A few weeks ago I saw a post trying to identify a different crochet crocodile pattern, and thinking it was cute, I decided to try and look for it on ebay and etsy, just to see if maybe I could find it. I didn't, but do you know what I found instead?

A very familiar crochet crocodile finger puppet. An intensely familiar one, you might say. Of course I bought it. And of course I asked the seller if, perhaps, they might have the pattern for it or know where it came from (they did not, alas). And after a few days, she showed up at my house.

She's not Chelsea, obviously. For one thing, she's far too clean and fresh looking - Chelsea was very well loved, and looked the part, while this crocodile finger puppet has definitely not endured years upon years of a child's affection. And, more importantly, she's not Chelsea because we've already established that Chelsea grew up into a bigger crochet crocodile. This has to be Chelsea's younger sister, Cici.

And if I could find another of Chelsea's kind after all these years, then maybe, with a bit of luck, I might find the pattern for her, and be able to make more of them. Fill the world with Chelseas.