queenlovett:

notordinaryfashion:


Carolina Herrera


that is a magical dress made out of the night sky and stars. no one can tell me different

queenlovett:

notordinaryfashion:

Carolina Herrera

that is a magical dress made out of the night sky and stars. no one can tell me different

(via confidenceofcasmac)


themoreyoustrex:

//I haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep in three or four days, and when I’m tired and cranky…

I like to make others suffer. :D

So here’s a dievin psychological study inspired by my sleep-deprivation. And frustration. And admiration. And human beings. And a bunch of other stuff. (A lot of credit goes to cleopatrathesecretary, who helped me unravel the psychology of their relationship. :3)

So, yes. Here you go. (Diego belongs to videntefernandez, as always. Christopher belongs to strexycorpertm, and it roleplayed by christopherrose-pa.)

***

“I don’t want to hear it.” 

Kevin turned away from the man he loved, biting his lip to keep himself from saying something he’d regret.

“Kevin, darling, I-”

Don’t-” There was a short intake of breath, and then Kevin’s face relaxed and his hands unclenched, leaving small crescents in his palms where his sharp nails dug into the skin. The mood regulation. Despite himself – despite everything that had happened – Kevin found his anger, his hurt, fading away, replaced with a feeling of mild contentedness. Oh, he was still intellectually upset, but emotionally he was…blank. Empty. Always cheerful, forever smiling. Because he didn’t –couldn’t – know anything else. So he smiled and smiled, with tears in his eyes and his heart in pieces. “I think, Diego, that you shouldn’t call me that right now, okay? I…” He fought against the synthetic submissiveness to force out the rest: “I think you’ve lost the right.”

His lover’s lip twitched slightly – fighting the urge to argue, Kevin knew. Diego could never stand it when Kevin got authoritative. “You know I would never do anything to hurt you, dar-.” Kevin’s smile grew, and Diego visibly caught himself. “My love-”

“Try again.”

“I-” Diego huffed out a breath. “Kevin.”

“Yes.”

Diego closed his eyes, appearing to have aged a few years in a matter of minutes. “Kevin, I have only ever operated in your best interest. I never meant…never meant for this to happen.” Kevin chuckled lightly, bitterly, though no one would ever be able to tell. “I mean it, Kevin. I love you.”

Kevin laughed again, harder this time. “Did you love him, too?” he asked brightly.

Brows drawing together, Diego asked, “Who?”

He didn’t know. He didn’t even understand what he had done and he wasn’t sorry and why why why didn’t that hurt?

“Christopher!” Kevin finally shouted, the ruined corners of his lips curving so far upwards that it was a wonder his face didn’t crack open from the force of it.

Did Kevin expect anything from his lover anymore? Probably, since he had expected Diego’s face to scrunch up the way it always did when he was confused. “Christopher?” Diego said the name as though he had never heard it before. But he had. Kevin knew now that he had. “No. No, I never loved him. It was always you, love. Always.”

Lies. But Kevin did not say this. Instead, he smiled, because he could do nothing else, and said, “I know, Diego. I know that you love me. I love you, too. I love you so much that I won’t ever make you sad, or sleep with anyone else. That would be mean, Diego. I would never do that.”

His lover flinched from the softly-worded blows, and took Kevin’s hands in his own. “What can I do to make this better, darling?”

Kevin’s hands laid limply in Diego’s, and he stared blankly at the black and gold engagement ring on his lover’s finger. How many nights had Diego removed it to sleep with some other man? How many nights had he not even bothered? A purplish vein ran under the band, barely noticeable under his tan skin. There was so much blood there, between the two of them. So, so much. A roomful, certainly. Kevin wondered, vaguely, what Diego would do if he spilled his own blood. He wondered, less vaguely, if he would feel it. He tilted his head, considering both what Diego could do for him and what he could do to himself. The latter, he eventually decided, could wait. But Diego…

“Say you’re sorry,” he said – commanded, really. He would not give Diego room to talk his way out of this. Not this time.

“I’m sorry, ” Diego said quickly.

“For what?”

Diego paused. “I…” Ah, this had stumped him. “I’m sorry for fu- for sleeping with the assistant.”

Wrong. “No,” Kevin said, staring at Diego with unblinking eyes. “No, Diego. Why are you sorry?

"I’m sorry because…" He was really struggling with this, poor dear. Unfortunately for him, sympathy was not one of the emotions allowed by Kevin’s medication. So he watched Diego fret, still smiling pleasantly. "I’m sorry because I hurt you, Kevin."

But you didn’t. It doesn’t hurt. Nothing hurts. “And why does this hurt me, Diego?”

His lover had never looked so lost. “I…” Diego was visibly battling with himself - most likely trying to choose between admitting to his ignorance or risking a lie. Don’t lie to me, Diego, Kevin thought. Not again. “I…don’t know, Kevin.”

Better. “It hurts because you said you loved me. Because you told me that I was yours, and you were mine.” Kevin’s smile was radiant, and his breath was accelerating rapidly into what sounded vaguely like a laugh. “It hurts, Diego, because you told me I was special." Tears were falling from his eyes, dripping down towards a mouth slit open by the man who was supposed to be his lover. "But Diego," he was whispering now, his throat choked up by nonexistent emotion, "do you want to know a secret?" He didn’t wait for an answer. "It doesn’t.” He giggled. “It doesn’t hurt! Nothing ever hurts, Diego, and I- I…” But he couldn’t say any more. The medicated - the Strex - part of his brain wouldn’t let him. So he stood, panting, silently pleading for understanding from a man whose capacity for empathy was as broken as Kevin himself.

"Your medication isn’t working again," Diego said quietly.

No! Kevin wanted to scream. No, it’s always working - that’s the problem. You lie and lie and lie, and when I find out, you tell me that my meds aren’t working and then you drug me until I can’t protest anymore. And I’m happy for awhile until you do something else and the cycle starts all over again and please, please, please, Diego, just listen to me for once!

But Diego didn’t listen, because he never listened. And Kevin smiled, because Diego had long since taken away his ability to do anything else. 

Diego smiled sadly, stepping forward to take Kevin into his arms. “You’re not well, darling,” he murmured. “Let me take care of you.”

Please… Please, no. Not again. Kevin had lost all ability to speak at this point - apparently whatever Strex - whatever Diego - had given him knew that whatever he would say would not be approved.

"It’s okay, love. I’m going to make it better." But this wouldn’t make it better. Diego knew - he must have known - that pouring more drugs into Kevin’s already weak body would just make him worse. But any remaining hope that Diego would help him was erased when he felt the pinprick of a needle in his neck. “Shh…” Diego’s arms were supporting him as he collapsed, the room already starting to dim. “I’ll make the pain stop. I’ll make sure you never feel hurt again.”

But I want to feel-

And then, nothing.

(via cleopatrathesecretary)



rosewednesday:

jhameia:

professorprof:

kiyuukins:

ponies-n-things:

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE

I know we all love Edna because she’s super fierce and determined and an awesome role model and shit but

do you ever think that she feels intensely guilty over this, having made this suit that lead to the death of this amazing young girl

Maybe there’s a reason she never looks back.

Repeated for emphasis:

Maybe there’s a reason she never looks back.

Edna at the funeral, veiled from head to toe, slowly ripping pages out of her pocket sketchbook and mouthing the words “no capes”

(via ggscene)


cishetssuck:

friendly reminder that:

  • you are not weak if you want meds for your disorder
  • you are not weak if you relapse once
  • you are not weak if you relapse a thousand times
  • you are not weak if some kinds of therapy don’t work for you
  • you are not weak if some kinds of meds don’t work for you
  • you are not weak if you have a mental disorder.

(via shippingking)


I'M CECIL. CECIL. GERSHWIN. PALMER.

promountains:

getittogetherstevecarlsberg:

phoenixthecookiemonster:

IT’S BEEN A DAY HOW DO YOU DO THIS SO QUICKLY

i LITTERALLY HAVE NO LIFE OUTSIDE

I FORGOT THIS EXISTED

(via ask-the-nightvale-soldier)


congalineofdurin:





dear god, let it be enough

congalineofdurin:

dear god, let it be enough

(via epicukulelesolo)


Indeed, the idea of ‘winning the girl’ – of overcoming female objections or resistance through repeated and frequently escalating efforts – is central to most of our modern romantic narratives. (Female persistence, by contrast, is viewed as pathetic.) And the more I think about instances of creepiness, harassment and stalking that culminate in either the threat or actuality of sexual assault, the more I’m convinced that a massive part of the problem is this socially sanctioned idea that men are fundamentally entitled to persist. Because if men are meant to persist, then women who say no must only be rejecting the attempt, not the man himself, so that every separate attempt becomes one of a potentially infinite number of keys which might just fit the lock of the woman’s approval. She’s not the one who’s allowed to say no, not really; she should be silent and passive as a locked door, waiting patiently while the man runs through however many keys he can be bothered trying. And if he gets sick of this lengthy process and just breaks in? Well, frustration under those circumstances is only natural. Either the door shouldn’t have been there to impede him, or it shouldn’t have been locked.

shuckl:

unclefather:

infinitecringe:

beemill:



via lstarlet

My bees wouldn’t stay out of my dog’s watering bowl and not only were they annoying her but they were drowning in large numbers.
At first I tried using a bird bath and changed the water twice a week for my bees, but never saw them using it. I think it was too close to the hive (they like their water source to be a bit farther away from the hive) and the birds were always in it.
So then I turned a medium sized pot into a water garden with plants and a piece of wood for them to land on. The bees are loving it! Every time I have gone to check on it there are 20+ of them drinking. Since I have set up the garden I have not found a bee in the dog bowl.
As for preventing mosquitoes, I plan on ordering a few tadpoles or feeder fish.
Edit for pictures. http://imgur.com/a/jDKVi




SO CUTE

"my" bees? who the fuck owns bees as a pet

beekeepers

shuckl:

unclefather:

infinitecringe:

beemill:

via lstarlet

My bees wouldn’t stay out of my dog’s watering bowl and not only were they annoying her but they were drowning in large numbers.

At first I tried using a bird bath and changed the water twice a week for my bees, but never saw them using it. I think it was too close to the hive (they like their water source to be a bit farther away from the hive) and the birds were always in it.

So then I turned a medium sized pot into a water garden with plants and a piece of wood for them to land on. The bees are loving it! Every time I have gone to check on it there are 20+ of them drinking. Since I have set up the garden I have not found a bee in the dog bowl.

As for preventing mosquitoes, I plan on ordering a few tadpoles or feeder fish.

SO CUTE

"my" bees? who the fuck owns bees as a pet

beekeepers

(via angryinternnoises)


aglaja:

besturlonhere:

you know what really gets my goat?

el chupacabra

(via friends-with-the-doctor)