#i want to do 100 million pap walk screens of them

[ahollowgrave]

anyway..................................

i just like them !!!! and i like winter glams

[chilling-seavey]

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - 14

A/N An accusation...

Warnings: This story is centered around a murder so there will be graphic descriptions of blood, death/manslaughter, dealing with corpses, possible domestic abuse (physical/verbal), crime/covering up a crime, shock/grief, and other possibly heavy or triggering topics. Please read at your own discretion.

The music played softly through the car as we passed through Las Vegas and headed farther into the desert towards Utah. Vast sprawls of flat land spread out along all sides of us and the shades of mountains rose up in shadows in the far distance. The sky was a bright sunny blue and the few clouds that offered moments of shade were brilliant white. It looked almost picturesque and I suppose I could had admired the scenery more if it wasn’t for the task that was weighing on my chest.

Being the passenger, I was able to spread out all the clues we had collected over the previous twenty-four hours across my lap from my phone to Avalon’s and her mysterious letter she had received as well as my list of suspects I had started the night before.

I spoke my thoughts out loud to Jonah as he drove, going over everything we had been through to as close detail as I could. He listened patiently and quietly, focusing on the straight shot of road ahead of us.

“And you’re sure it wasn’t you?” Jonah tried.

“100% positive. We fought in the kitchen and she left to sleep in the studio on the pull-out. I remember watching her walk out.” I stared ahead at the road too, squinting in the desert sunlight as I took myself back to that night, speaking slowly as the pieces started to fit together even more, “I remember…the security alarm ringing from the monitor on the kitchen.”

I had just crouched down to pick up the worst of the broken glass on the kitchen floor with a steady hand when the pling of the security camera alarm peaked my attention. It rang steady from the monitor’s spot on the front counter and I headed over to it to check on the cameras, but the alarm was disarmed from the studio before I could reach it, sending the kitchen back into silence.

My phone buzzed in my pocket at that moment and I pulled it out to read the text from my older brother,

Did you get home okay?

I hesitated as I read his message, not particularly wanting to be honest with him and have to endure his confessions of his dislike of my new wife and her very personable opinions on my job. It was our private relationship and Christian seemed to like to weasel his nose into it sometimes. Ah, well. He meant well. Before I could decide if I wanted to answer him right away or not, I heard a faint scream from the backyard and my head shot up to look towards the sliding glass doors. I paused, expecting Avalon to come running in to ask me to kill a spider any moment now.

But there was nothing.

“I remember her scream.” I breathed. “Holy shit, Jo, I remember her scream.”

I pressed my hands over my ears as the sound of her faint agonizing shriek echoed through my mind. How I had managed to forget in the first place was beyond me. I must have followed her out there to have woken up on the floor beside her…if only I could remember enough to piece together who was in there with her. I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes until I saw those little dancing shapes in the blackness of my eyelids, trying to remember anything more.

“Don’t give yourself another headache, bro.” Jonan said gently.

I sighed tiredly and sat back up in my seat, “Yeah. Might need another Aspirin soon at this rate.”

Jonah chuckled lightly and turned up the music a little more as the song switched to one of his favourites. I hummed softly along to the music as I skimmed my social media, being careful not to show any activity in case my accounts were being watched. I was used to seeing my name pop up on my feed from my social status with Jonah but not like this; not with the equivalent of Wanted stamped across my forehead. New accounts had my licence plate numbers everywhere and were asking for any leads for my whereabouts in exchange for a good amount of money. Maybe if I turned myself in after I figured all this out I could turn my millions into a solid billion.

My mother texted me. The message popped down from the top of my screen.

Hey little boy. Give me a call when you can please. Love you x

I swiped the notification away and locked my phone with a sigh.

“Where are the notes you took yesterday in the car?” I asked Jonah flatly.

“Top of my bag in the back seat.” Jonah answered.

I shifted around to grab the corner of the pad of stationary that was peaking out of his bag and I dropped it on my lap. I compared it to my more detailed notes from the hotel paper and copied them over to the larger sheet that Jonah had started. I then added Corbyn to the list and his motives:

-Would do anything for a story/money

-Threatened her a few months ago

-Knows where we live

-Pushes boundaries

-Can talk his way into (or out of) anything

“Leaning towards a lead?” Jonah asked.

“I was thinking Zach but Corbyn seems pretty guilty honestly.” I answered flatly as I skimmed the list, tapping the end of the pen against my lips. “Still want to know how he just found us at that resort though.”

“If he’s with the paps he probably followed us and we didn’t know.”

“Son of a bitch.” I grumbled.

“Yeah.” Jonah exhaled deeply.

“His motives line up but it doesn’t answer the question of the missing security tapes.” I mumbled more to myself than anyone, shuffling the papers to set the letter on the top of the pile on my lap.

Jack’s writing on the jacket didn’t seem to match the penmanship on the letter. The letter was a bit messier and slanted in its print. I tapped the pen against my lips again in thought as I pulled out our original list to lay beside the letter. My tapping slowed to a stop as my eyes flicked between the two matching pieces of lined stationary and similar penmanship on both. The yellowish tinge to the papers and the brand stamp in the bottom corners were identical.

I quickly grabbed Avalon’s phone and went into her text messages, passing by her aggressive messages from Christian and the flat conversations with Jack and I scrolled through her list of threads. What I was looking for wasn’t there. I switched over to contacts and scrolled down to the J’s.

The single J was Jack as I had discovered earlier; then there was Jenna her hair stylist, Jon our finance manager, and Jonah. I clicked Jonah’s contact name to open up his information. His number was filed as ‘blocked’ in her phone. If he needed to contact her for whatever reason but was blocked…the only way would be through mail.

I felt the air drain from my lungs as I looked back down the mysterious letter and list of suspects on the matching page beside it. More questions swirled around in my mind and I mentally added to the list.

Jonah was certainly behind the letter and she obviously had some sort of falling out with him in order to block his number. He knew our address, of course, had a key and everything and knew when we were going to be home. He was in charge of putting the wedding gifts in the studio so he knew exactly where the knives were. And, to top it all off, he knew the code to the security cameras.

Holy shit.

He killed my wife.

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee​ @randomlimelightxxx​ @stuffofseaveyy​ @hopinglimelight​ @tempus-ut-luceant​ @br4nd1s​ @xkelsev​ @hiya-its-amber​ @the-girl-who-cried-wolf​

[carmenlire]

Higher than the Big Trees Ch. 5

Read on ao3

It’s bright and early the following Monday and Alec has a full day. In the morning, he’s taping the preliminary footage for his Good Morning America slot that will predominantly be live on Friday. In the afternoon, he has two meetings. One is with Out Magazine. He’s their cover for the next issue and he has a photo shoot and interview. The other is with the record execs to discuss the next phase of his career: Album 7, as yet untitled.

Alec hasn’t told anyone, but he’s wildly unsure about where he wants to go. Where does one go after completing their third sold-out world tour? He's been at the top for so long that he doesn't know what else he can do. He fears he's reached his limit. He hasn’t written a song in weeks and the little new material he has is no good.

He’s suffering from extreme writer’s block. Nothing feels fresh. Everything is generic, stale. Mediocre. Alec very much fears that his good luck has run out. He’s spent ten years in the limelight and that’s more than most artists ever have.

Truth be told, Alec is disenchanted with the whole scene. He can’t help but think about that guy from the club. Whatever-his-name-was had been only too eager to sleep with Alec, forget that he was apparently in a committed relationship. People can be shit, and Alec knows that better than most, but it doesn’t help him feel any less like a piece of meat. A commodity.

Everyone wants Alec Lightwood, superstar. They want the guy that can hook them up with floor seats to the Lakers or score them a table at the restaurant du jour without reservations. Alec is the guy who can whisk you away for a weekend trip to Belize, first class all the way.

They want that Alec.

No one sticks around for the less glamorous man. The Alec that’s deathly afraid of spiders, has a hideous fondness for hole-riddled hoodies, and whose favorite movie is Pride and Prejudice. Only a handful of people know Alec under the surface. He likes it that way. He does. But half of that number is family and the other half might as well be. It’d be nice to meet someone who cared about him, the person. Not him, the celebrity.

But, it is what it is, and Alec needs to stop moping and get ready for the day. He wakes up around six in the morning, goes for a run to the Black Panther soundtrack, and when he returns to the penthouse, Jace and Izzy are in the kitchen.

Jace wakes up every morning at the ass crack of dawn to open his gym and who the hell knows why Izzy is up so early. She is notoriously not a morning person.

She’s swallowed up by, it looks like, one of his hoodies. She’s staring at the coffee machine with a kind of singular focus that she usually reserves for the camera or a biology textbook. She doesn’t acknowledge him and he just grabs an apple from the bowl on the counter and heads to his room, throwing a nod to Jace as they pass each other.

He munches on the apple while scrolling through his phone. He answers a few tweets and posts an Insta pic of the three of them from over the weekend. They’re all at Uptown Java with the caption it’s good to be home.

Alec takes a shower and gets ready for the day. He throws on a pair of olive green ankle pants with a lightweight navy sweater and a pair of light brown Oxfords. He throws on his sunglasses, grabs his wallet, and leaves the apartment.

When he gets downstairs, he chats to the doorman for a few minutes. His name is Charles and he’s tall and lean like a greyhound. He’s at least eighty years old and has been working as a doorman since Alec moved in-- probably since before Alec was even born. He’s a sweet man who loves crossword puzzles and sweet tea. He always remembers Alec’s birthday and brings him a pie his wife baked every Sunday when he’s in town.

After talking with Charles, he heads out to the sidewalk. There are only one or two paps hovering around his building and Alec ignores them and their cameras. He’s gotten good at ignoring journalists over the years and they’re usually just like pesky gnats. The town car is waiting for him and his driver, Dave, opens the back door with a grin.

“How are you doing this morning, Mr. Lightwood?”

Alec grins back and throws him a nod. “I’m doing just fine today Dave. How about you? How’re the kids?”

“Well, little Elise won an award at the science fair over the weekend and Davy Jr.’s obsession this month is Simon’s latest album.”

Alec laughs a little. “Simon’s album has been a success. It's holding steady in the Billboard Top 100 and Lewis is ecstatic. I could get Davy a shirt, if you think he’d like it?”

Dave’s smile widens. “You know damn well that Davy would love anything having to do with Simon. I’d appreciate it, man.”

Alec has one leg in the car and looks at Dave over the open door. “I’ll see what I can do. Tell Elise congratulations and that she’ll have to explain to me what her experiment was the next time I see her. The two of them will have to visit Izzy, Jace, and me soon and catch us up. I'm sure Elise would love to chat with Izzy about all things science.”

Dave laughs as Alec sits down. “Will do, Mr. Lightwood.”

The drive to the television station is only half an hour, a minor miracle in New York traffic. Alec spends that time answering emails and catching up on the news.

They pull up in front of the building and when Dave opens his door, he’s immediately bombarded with cameras and shouts. Most of the people are journalists, whom Alec largely ignores. There are a few fans waiting on the sidewalk by the front doors, though, and Alec goes over to each of them. He spends a few minutes talking to them and getting pictures taken.

A few fans have gifts for him, which he warmly accepts. It always surprises him how thoughtful his fans can be. One girl brought him a handmade rainbow bracelet that he immediately puts on his wrist and a couple of boys give him a little penguin plushy the size of his fist. It’s cute as hell and Alec gives everyone a hug for coming out and seeing him.

He heads inside and is ushered through the labyrinth of hallways by an eager and attentive assistant. Alec spends the next few hours talking to more people than he can keep up with. He spends some time working on publicity shots for advertising and gets a better idea of the itinerary for Friday.

By the time he leaves ABC’s headquarters, it’s lunchtime and he has barely enough time to scarf down a hot dog from a street vendor before it’s time to head to his record company’s headquarters in Lower Manhattan. It’s forty-five minutes of bumper to bumper traffic and Alec's almost climbing out of the car before it comes to a complete stop. He’s never late for anything work-related and he strides into Institute Records with three minutes to spare.

Lydia is just inside, waiting for him. She’s on her phone, typing in a flurry, and looks sharp in a five thousand dollar suit. She looks every inch the agent and Alec is grateful that she’s always on top of things.

Without looking up, she asks, “What did you have for lunch?”

Alec says, “A hot dog from the vendor on the corner of 4th and Braxton.”

Lydia suppresses a full body-shudder. “I don’t know how you eat those things, never mind that you seem to love hot dogs with all the fervor of a teenage boy.”

Alec laughs. “Hotdogs are classic. They’re about as All-American as you can get and they hit the spot on a busy day running around New York.”

Lydia hums but doesn’t offer any other reply. She taps on the screen one last time before sliding her phone into her briefcase and finally looking at him.

“So, do you know the game plan for this meeting?”

Alec raises a brow. “Artfully misdirect and willfully play dumb?”

Sighing, Lydia says, “As a last resort, yes. Are you telling me there’s still nothing new that you want to show the label?”

“No.”

Lydia looks at him, appraisingly. “Okay, then. Since that’s the case, we’ll follow your plan. Remember, the primary goals here are to set a due date for first demos and discuss the music video we’re doing for your last single from An Arrow in the Dark. We’ll try to extend the timeline until. . . August 1st? That will give us another month for you to produce more material. What do you think about that deadline?”

An Arrow in the Dark was his sixth album and had sold over a million copies within its first week of release. He only had one more single-- Empty Hearts-- to release from that album cycle and was excited to start filming for the music video. Empty Hearts was one of his favorite tracks from that record and he was looking forward to talking to different producers and directors to see what each of them would pitch for the video concept.

Alec thinks about it for a minute, before responding, “Yeah. That’ll do it. I should hopefully have at least one damn song by then. Besides, I think that’s the best we’re going to get with them.”

Alec loves Institute Records. He’s been with them since he was sixteen and they’ve always been more than generous to him. However, he is under no illusions that he is anything but a cash cow to them. As soon as the well dries up, so to speak, he will have a pile of problems with them. He’d just better hope that this writer’s block eases up soon.

Alec and Lydia walk into the boardroom and are confronted with half a dozen executives in rigid suits, all in varying shades of navy or black. The label president, Jia Penhallow, is in good spirits and the meeting lasts the standard three hours. Lydia is a shark, always preserving Alec’s interests, and Alec appreciates that she does her job thoroughly and unapologetically. By the end of the meeting, Alec has his demo extension and is set to review potential directors during the first week in July-- roughly three weeks from now. Lydia and he shake hands with everyone before leaving.

Alec takes a deep breath once they’re back on the street and Lydia does the same, unbuttoning the top buttons of her dress shirt and taking her suit jacket off, draping it over her arm.

“Well that was more successful than I was banking on,” Lydia says dryly.

“Yeah, I’m surprised they were so chill about everything.”

Lydia shrugs a little. “Maybe in a rare fit of conscious, they saw that you needed a break from working nonstop. Or, they realized that their number one guy on the roster was burning out and they decided to back off in an effort to help you get your mojo back.”

“Whatever it was, I’m just glad they gave me a reprieve. But, I need to get my ass in gear and start writing some songs worthy of the Lightwood name.”

Digging through her bag for sunglasses, Lydia squints at him. “What about those sessions you’ve planned with Catarina Loss? Do you think those will be fruitful?”

Alec looks down the block, watching as a woman talks rapid-fire into her cell phone and a kid skateboards past, narrowly missing running over an old man. His voice is pensive as he replies.

“I don’t know, Lyd. I think that having the opportunity to write with her will be a huge boon to my career. A definite milestone. I just hope to hell we can write, that I can write something that makes goddamn sense. You’re my agent and my friend so I’ll tell you that I’ve written half a dozen songs in the past few months and they’re all garbage. I don’t know what I want my next album to sound like. I don’t know anything. I might be a little more burnt out than even I thought. I need to get my head in the write space to write-- I just don’t even know what that looks like these days.”

Lydia takes a few steps until she’s at his side and wraps her arm around his waist. Sympathetic, but with a hint of steel in her tone, she says, “I’m sorry you’ve hit a rough patch, Alec, but hopefully you can take some time from this break and regroup. Take a weekend and fly to a place where no one knows your name--” She ignores his snort of disbelief, “-- or try something you’ve never done before. Maybe you just need a change of pace. You’ll get over this. You know you will. You just might have to get inventive and change things up. Creativity never deals well with static. You know that.”

Thinking over what Lydia’s just said, Alec nods along. “You might have a point, I suppose. Maybe I’ll rent a cabin in Tennessee for a few days. Or, I could take a cooking class. Try something new.”

Lydia smiles brightly. “There you go! Something different to jumpstart your brain.”

With a sigh, Alec takes his arm from around her shoulders and steps back, putting distance between them.

“Well, as riveting as this conversation and pep talk was, I need to head uptown. I have that interview with Out in an hour.”

Walking backwards a few steps, Lydia nods. “Alright, then. I’m starving anyway. I need dinner soon or I might just faint.”

She turns sharply on her heel and throws over her shoulder, “Have fun! Don’t say anything that will give me a headache tomorrow morning.”

Alec grins and calls out, “No promises,” before turning and heading in the opposite direction.

His job is never-ending, a constant merry-go-round of concerts, meetings, and interviews. He’s hit a rocky patch right now, but damn if Alec doesn’t love his career, the constant flux, thrives off the hectic schedules. He looks wistfully at a pretzel stand as he strides past and ignores his stomach that’s started growling.

He has places to be and people to impress. Alec is thinking about answers to questions that will no doubt be asked this evening. Alec has been interviewed hundreds of times and they always ask the same questions. He knows his standard answers by rote. It never hurts to run through them again, though. He’s stuck in his head, walking on autopilot to the little cafe the interview is taking place at. He doesn’t notice the man on the other side of the street, walking quickly in the opposite direction.

Magnus doesn’t notice him either, too wrapped up in making it on time to his standing Monday night family dinner with his four favorite people in the entire world. Catarina will kill him if he’s late another week and he does so hate disappointing Madzie.

They're just two busy men among a million in New York City. Yet, they're both resolutely not thinking about the man they met a few nights ago and refuse to acknowledge just how often their thoughts stray to the handsome stranger that enthralled them late into the evening. They don't even notice the wistful sighs and pangs of yearning that escape them.

[brixie19]

Rock the Boat, Baby

I’ve been fairly quiet on social media about the current political situation for the most part.  I share articles that I find to be either informative or mind-numbingly insane, but other than that, I keep my mouth shut on Facebook.  Twitter is a different story - my entire timeline is filled with political retweets and one-sided conversations with our new President.  I keep that to Twitter for one big reason - I don’t have family members or many friends as followers.  On Facebook, everyone I’ve ever gone to school with or spoken to more than twice can see my posts - and, although I pride myself on being respectful and open, the few opinions I’ve shared have still led to public fights with family members and acquaintances.  

Everyone wants to believe- or at least hope- that, with time, the heightened emotions of the past few months will fade.  That things will return to normal, or some semblance of the normal we once knew.  I believed it myself for a while - on my darkest days after the election, I would think, “we’ll be fine.  How bad can it really get?  How much can things really change?”  But now, more than 2 months later, I am still angry.  I am still sad, disappointed, shocked, and terrified that this happened.  That it’s still happening.  And while I won’t bore you with the minute details of every offense Donald Trump has committed - the list would be far too long, as they seem to occur on an almost hourly basis at this point- I am remaining vigilant and am going into his term with my eyes wide open.  While I don’t love making myself angry every day or wanting to pull my hair out every time I read the responses to his tweets, I feel that it is so imperative to remain informed and educated.

For that reason, among many other obvious ones, I attended the Women’s March in Downtown Los Angeles yesterday.  If you know me, you’ll know that I do not like crowds, people, or walking - but this felt big and important and life changing, so I wanted to be there.  I NEEDED to be there.  The experience was unforgettable.  A day and a half later, I can still feel the energy, the positivity, the unity.  I don’t wax poetic very often, but what I witnessed yesterday - what I was a part of- was beautiful and powerful.  It was inspiring and empowering and will stick with me for a long, long time.  

But then when I turned to social media to share my joyous feelings, I instead- as with everything else that has happened over the past year- found so many distorted facts and outright falsehoods about what I and millions of others had just experienced.  Stories of violence and desperation- I even saw a quote that called the Marches a “total collapse of the social order.”  Something in me snapped.  I can’t stand for this anymore.  I won’t.

On the day of Trump’s inauguration, there were protests in the streets of Washington DC.  Thousands of people peacefully protested what could very well be the worst president in our lifetimes.  They protested his words, his lies, his plans.  They chanted and made signs.  They marched through the streets together, passionate and united.  

And then one group of people fucked everything up.

A group of people who do NOT represent me or anyone I know decided to go full blown anarchist and create chaos.  They broke windows, they threw bricks, they set a damn limo on fire.  I think everyone, from all sides, can come together on this one and agree that these types of actions - protests, riots, whatever you want to label them as- are absolutely not ok and is the opposite of what liberals and anti-trump protesters are trying to convey.  But even the Chief of Police admitted that it was one small, organized group who just wanted to come in and cause mayhem.  And it worked.  Because now, in the minds of Trump supporters, those people represent the thousands of people who peacefully protested.  And even worse, the 2.9 million people who marched across the globe yesterday for the Women’s March are being lumped in with them, too.

I can’t speak for other marches around the world.  But I can tell you what I experienced among the hundreds of thousands of strong women and their supporters:  Thousands of people peacefully protested what could very well be the worst president in our lifetimes.  They protested his words, his lies, his plans.  They chanted and made signs.  They marched through the streets together, passionate and united.

And no one fucked anything up.

And yet I see these tweets and these stories from “news” sites I’ve never heard of that people are desperately googling to fit the agenda Trump has created for them. Liberals are “soft,” we’re “elite snowflakes” who are “triggered” by Trump’s strength and vision.  We’re angry and pathetic, making mountains out of molehills and being too politically correct.  

Well fuck that.  FUCK THAT.  No one is going to tell me that wanting equal rights for everyone makes me weak.  You’re not going to call me a baby killer because I want Planned Parenthood to continue to receive federal funding.  Wanting to see our President’s tax returns doesn’t make me a crybaby.  Supporting Black Lives Matter doesn’t mean I hate cops and therefore veterans and anyone performing a public service.  I work hard.  I pay my fucking taxes and I love my country.  I am grateful for our service men and women.  But we need to do better.  And I’m going to keep shouting that from the rooftops for as long as Trump holds office.  

I support Planned Parenthood, 100%.  I think it is so important for women to have affordable health care, whether that means education, pap smears, screening for ovarian cancer, or STD testing.  It is so much more than what these people are focusing on.

I had an abortion once.  Talk about burying the lead, huh?  I was 20 years old.  The father was someone older than me who was in a long-term relationship.  When I told him, he told me I couldn’t have the baby.  While some of you may be grabbing your pearls in horror right now, let me assure you - I was agreeing with him before the words were even out of his mouth.  I could barely pay my rent.  I couldn’t (legally) drink yet.  He wasn’t mine - he never was and he never would be.  There was no future here.  There were relationships to destroy, lives to stall, and an unwanted child who I couldn’t - and didn’t want to- provide for.  

I called Planned Parenthood immediately.  They asked a few questions and made me an appointment right away.  Once I got there, I had to go through several therapy sessions and medical tests.  They MAKE SURE you are ok with this.  Almost ad nauseam.  I honestly got to the point where I wanted to scream, “can you just DO IT already so I can go home?!”  The doctor who performed it was kind and not at all judgmental.  And I assure you that he also was not a mustache twirling villain who scratched a mark into the wall to count off the babies he had killed that day.  This was not fun for anyone involved.  But it was my right.  It IS my right.  I was not raped. I was not a teenager or a victim of incest.  I did not have medical issues or any indication that the pregnancy would be high risk.  I was just a 20 year old idiot who didn’t have the emotional or financial capabilities to have a child at that moment.  And I own my mistake - I got pregnant, I own that.  I do not advocate for abortion as a form of birth control.  But here we are, 14 years later - and I’ve never gotten pregnant again.  And had Planned Parenthood not been able to legally perform my procedure, I would have had a very different life.  Can I say that it would have been a BAD life?  No, of course not.  But no matter what happened, I would have a 14 year old right now.  And even now- even right now as I sit here typing this as a wizened, more mature 34 year old woman living in Los Angeles and happy in a relationship- I can say that I don’t regret it.  I regret that the entire situation ever happened, of course.  But I don’t regret my decision.  

I don’t ever want a scared 20 year old to go through what I went through and not have a way out.  Because what happens then?  Nothing good, I assure you.  Life is not an uplifting coming-of-age movie.  Life is hard and ugly and unfair.  So don’t tell me that I can’t voice my opinion when things that make our short time on the earth just a little easier are being threatened.  I won’t listen to it anymore.  We need to support each other, to help our fellow man.  This is basic human decency.  

I stand with my fellow women.  I stand with the gay community.  The black community, the muslim community- with the immigrants and the people just trying to get out of bed every day and make something of their lives.  I stand with people who just want to marry the person they love, the men and women who want to use the public restroom that coincides with the gender they identify with, the couple who wants to order some goddamned cupcakes without being asked what their religious beliefs are.  I stand with women who are scared, women who are strong; poor women and the Meryl Streeps of the world.  

Women’s rights are human rights.  If our country is as great as many of you want to keep screaming, then it should be great for each and every one of its citizens - not just the ones you pick and choose.  I’m tired of being polite to hold on to relationships that weren’t very strong in the first place.  You think liberals are too politically correct?  Alright, let me fix that.  Fuck you for not wanting to help people.  For wanting to take away people’s health care, for denying scientific evidence of climate change.  Fuck you for victim blaming and trying to pass laws that discriminate against the LGBTQ community.  Fuck you for trying to use the government to try to tell me what I can and can’t do with my own body because a deity you’ve never seen tells you so in a book that was written a million years ago.  Fuck you for electing this horrid excuse for a man into our country’s highest position.  I pray it works out for us.  For ALL of us.  But until we know that it will, I will no longer be censoring myself.  I will wear my anger and my anxiety for our future on my sleeve and on my Facebook page.  You don’t like that?  Too bad.

To quote the words of one of my heroes, the strong, beautiful Amy Poehler; when a male comedian told her to be more ladylike because he didn’t like the raunchy joke she was telling, she replied:  

“I don’t fucking care if you like it.”

And neither do I.