being bosnian can be so exhausting because sometimes im bosniak and sometimes im bosnian and in the eyes of nationalists i am a turk or a serb muslim with serb ancestors and im harassed by 17 year old chetniks who were taught the same hateful rhetoric their parents learned from nationalists and some days i do not feel like a real person with a culture and history because of everything that has been stolen from me and the nationalists have gotten a little too good at gaslighting bosniaks and telling me my language doesnt exist and it just feels like modern day genocide thats violent but not in a physical sense and some days i feel so ground in my identity, like when im presenting a project on settler colonialism in RS and my classmates look at me and say, ”this is powerful,” and ”thank you for teaching me—i never knew,” and it eases the sharp bite of pain driven by a wedge in my skull and i feel like who i am supposed to be: a bosniak, teaching my peers about my history and who i couldve been if it werent for war
I don't really have any 911 followers but I don't have anywhere rn to post it
Buck is so pretty:p
the best thing about jamie in the blue away kit, yellow socks and pink cleats is that those are the pan pride colors
Jamie Tartt / Perfect by Logic
During the most poor and homeless period of my life, I had a lot of people get angry with me because I spent $25 on Bath and Body Works candles during a sale. They couldn’t comprehend why the hell I would do that when I had been fighting for months to try and get us on our feet, afford food, and have an apartment to live in.
Those candles were placed beside wherever I slept that night. In the morning, I would move them and set them wherever I’d have to hang out. At one point I carried one around in my purse - one of those big honking 3-wick candles. I never lit them, but I’d open them and smell them a lot.
I credit that purchase with a lot of my drive that got me to where I am today. I had been working tirelessly, 15+ hour days with barely any reward, constantly on the phone or trying to deal with organizations and associations to “get help at”. It’d gone on for almost a year by the end of it, and I was so burnt out, to the point that I would shake 24/7. But I could get a bit of relief from my 3-wick “upper middle class lifestyle” candles. They represented my future goals, my home I wanted to decorate, and how I would one day not be in this mess anymore.
When we moved into the apartment, and our financial status improved, I burned those candles every single day. When they were empty, I cleaned them out, stuck labels on them, and they became the starting point of my really cute organization system I had ALWAYS planned to have.
So whenever I hear about someone very poor getting themselves a treat - maybe it’s Starbucks, maybe it’s a home deco item, maybe it’s a video game… I don’t judge them. I get it. I get that you can’t go without anything for that long without it making you go crazy. You need to pull some joy, inspiration, and motivation from somewhere.
poor people deserve things they want, too. it is unfair to expect poor people to only buy things they “need”.
My grandfather used to tell me: if you only have 20 kr left, you buy grocery for 10 kr and flowers for the other 10 kr because you need a reason to live as well.
“Hearts starve as well as bodies: Give us Bread, but give us Roses.”
it’s been over 10 years since i ship them but sterek brainrot is still going hard and strong to this day… my brain inserts them in every piece of media i’ve encountered they are in every book i read every movie i watch every song i listen to they are literally everywhere
i will never be able to move on from them for the rest of my life…..
Stiles Stilinski/Nogitsune - Teen Wolf 3x19 “Letharia Vulpina”
okay i'll bite is such a good phrase. like i will
Looks exchanged between Stiles and Derek in ‘Magic Bullet’.
SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN dir. Stanley Donen + Gene Kelly
BONUS:
reblog for good luck!!
RB if you think CD drives in computers are not obsolete, but in fact still necessary, despite being artificially phased out
you have to stay alive. you're going to be such a beautiful middle aged freak. young freaks will see you in the street and know that things can be okay.
Getting ready for their first date, like—
—Keeley bringing Rebecca to find the perfect outfit, not because she needs a new outfit and not because Roy and Jamie won’t love her in whatever, but it’s half the fun, isn’t it? Getting ready, building anticipation, sneaking another drink at Aeronaut while Derek fetches her two more dresses, just for the hell of it.
Rebecca tells her that she looks gorgerous in every bloody thing, but that she looks particularly gorgerous in the second pink one, and oh, they should stop by The Connaught Bar on their way to the spa, celebrate Keeley looking like the marvel she is, and maybe raise a toast to Roy and Jamie being far, far luckier than either of them deserve.
“If you were into women I’d never date anyone else,” Keeley says very seriously over her Fleurissimo. “We’d never even have to go on actual dates, we could just do this forever, it’d be fucking fantastic.” She makes an exaggerated face. “Now I’m stuck dating icky boys.”
And Rebecca laughs and hugs her and knows that she’s not serious, at least not about the last part.
(Rebecca hopes this works out because if it doesn’t and she has to deal with the implosion of a relationship between her head coach and their star player… Well. She’d put the brakes on the whole thing, maybe, if it weren’t for Keeley and the way she lights up when she talks about her icky boys, if it weren’t for the fact that Roy and Jamie are going to be absolutely ridiculous about each other no matter what Rebecca allows or doesn’t allow, if it weren’t for her sordid affair with Sam and how it hasn’t left her with a single leg to stand on.)
---
Getting ready for their first date, like—
—Jamie giving Roy an incredulous and halfway reproachful look as Roy sticks his head out the office to tell him that they’re leaving, so mush. “I’m going back home, mate. Dani’s giving me a ride.”
And Roy’s eyebrows do their Roy’s eyebrow thing. “What the fuck for? Keeley’s picking us up in less than two hours. At my place. You can do your fucking hair bullshit or whatever you need to do there.”
(It’s unclear to Roy exactly what hair bullshit Jamie might need doing, because he’s already spent half an hour after training in front of the dressing room mirror with most of the team chiming in with encouragement and advice, but it’s Jamie, so it’s probably something.)
“Not with your tragic products, I can’t,” Jamie mutters (and that’s a right laugh because Jamie knows better than most everybody that Roy does not, in fact and unlike some other people, settle for fucking Lynx or the like). “And anyway, we’re going on a date with each other, right, not just with Keeley, so we can’t get ready together. What am I supposed to do, sneak out the door and ring the bell when it’s time to pick you up?”
“What? No.”
Jamie points at him. “Right, ‘cause that’d be weird.”
“That’s not—“ But Jamie doesn’t let him finish, he just walks off with Dani, because he doesn’t have time for Roy’s spluttering, has he, and doesn’t Roy know Jamie has a date to get ready for?
Get ready he does, but because he is a filthy hypocrite (a word he does know the meaning of, so there, Coach Beard), he doesn’t hesitate to call Keeley when he can’t decide between his favourite Stone Island jacket and the new patterned Gucci number he got sent the other day, and then he has to have opinions on her shade of lipstick, and she suggests he wear the Layton she bought him a few years back, and it’s a brilliant time, just like them getting ready for the red carpet back when they were dating before.
“Bit like cheating, though, innit,” Jamie tells Keeley, out of a sudden and uncharacteristic sense of fairness. “Us asking each other for advice when getting ready for a date with each other, yeah? I should be on the phone with like Isaac, and you should talk to Rebecca or Barbara.”
“Well,” Keeley reasons as she sips her mimosa and waits for her nail polish to dry. “We’re going on a date with Roy too, and since we are the ones who properly knows what he likes and we want to look fucking fit for him, it makes sense for us to help each other out, yeah? Besides,” she adds, “we can do whatever we want, babe. Screw the rules, right?”
And yeah, right. That’s the basis for this whole thing, innit? “Yeah,” Jamie agrees, giving her a grin. “Screw the rules.” And then his smile softens into something gentler, almost shy, something she used to be the only one ever allowed to see. “Want look fucking fit for you too,” he admits, like it’s a secret.
Keeley’s smile, too, is soft. “Aw, babe, me too. And you do.”
—
Getting ready for their first date, like—
Roy picking Phoebe up from school and dropping her off with Sophia’s retired colleague, and when Phoebe asks why she’s not staying with him this time he takes a long moment to answer, and it’s messed up, isn’t it, that he’s this concerned about what a fucking child should think about his love life.
Not just any child, though, is she. “I’m going on a date,” he says eventually, glancing at her in the rear mirror.
“Oh.” She frowns; not in disapproval, he thinks, but in careful consideration. Then: “Is this a date with Keeley or with Jamie?”
Huh. All right, then. First potential hurdle cleared. As for the second… “Both.”
To his stupidly immense relief, Phoebe brightens at that. “That’s very clever of you, Uncle Roy. It would have been really hard to choose between Jamie and Keeley, and they both love you so much.”
Roy shakes his head, biting back a smile that’s as much affection as it is incredulity. “All right, you little precocious shit, get out of here, and be good for Ms. Mallard.”
And then he has just enough time to get back home and change out of his black shirt and trousers into another black shirt and pair of trousers, to trim his beard and add a textured silk tie (very dark purple, Keeley and Jamie better fucking appricate the splash of colour). He spends a long time staring at his reflection, partly because he really is quite vain (his stubborn protests to the contrary), but mostly because this means something to him. They do: Keeley, Jamie. The three of them, and what they could be.
It leaves him a little dizzy. It scares the hell out of him. He wants to get this right.
The door bell chimes. Jamie, and Roy has barely let him in, has barely even begun to figure out what he’s supposed to say to this Jamie, to his date Jamie, to the Jamie whose eyes sparkle and who manages to make even that ridiculous outfit look good, when the bell chimes again, and there is Keeley, a fucking vision, and Roy knows what to say to her.
“You look fucking amazing,” he says, and she giggles and leans in to kiss his cheek, very chaste (it’s a first date, after all), and still it’s nearly enough to leave him breathless with how much he’s missed her.
“Got you this,” he mutters a little hoarsely, picking up and handing over a Black Baccarat rose that’s been strategically sat on the sidetable.
Impractical, since they’re going out, and corny, but fucking sue him. Roy Kent will headbutt anyone who dares call him a romantic, but that doesn’t mean he thinks they’re wrong – and anyway, it’s worth it for the way Keeley smiles as she inhales the sweet scent.
“Uh, where’s my flower?” Jamie complains.
Roy rolls his eyes. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he growls. “Fine.” And he heads off into the kitchen where there is indeed a second rose waiting in a small vase. He’d left it there, deeply unsure if he was supposed to offer Jamie one or not; but that’s that cleared up then, flowers for Jamie is a go, he’ll make a note for their next date.
Jamie beams as he accepts his rose; grins wickedly as he, too, leans in to kiss Roy’s cheek.
Roy clears his throat, trying to ignore the way his heart’s sped up at the brief touch. “Okay. Let’s fucking do this.”
“Yeah,” Keeley agrees. “Let’s.”
And Jamie doesn’t say anthing at all, but he nods, and he takes Roy’s arm, and Keeley takes his hand, and they walk out into the night and fucking do it.