#i have nothing against Beyonce but everything against those fuckers

[grilledkatniss]

So I realized a while back I had this internalized nagging resentment towards Beyoncé and the beehive and I think it's coming down to a few factors that piled up over time. And none of those have anything to do with Beyonce herself but everything to do with her fanbase.

[beta-addict]

Adapted from Shiny Pink: Sissify Yourself BlogSpot

That’s Sasha and Kasumi. They ’re not your friends, it’s just that you work for Sasha’s father, Mr Wang. Sasha is a spoilt rich girl because of her father, while Kasumi is more of a trailer park Asian tramp. Sasha is best friends with her though and together they party like animals all the time. doing drugs and fucking like whoever, whenever. You’ve never liked either of them, you have even talked to Mr Wang about the need of his daughter to stay away of Kasumi and everything. He ignores you, you’re just a worker bee in his company, nothing to do with his precious Daughter. Both girls know about you, though they have never raised an issue, for them it has always been as if you don’t exist. A month ago you saw them at a bar close to work. You were with your friends, they were partying as always. One of your friends said a racist joke about them. Everybody laughed. and then another joke was made, and then another. Kasumi and Sasha heard you and your friends and they argued back. In fact, they wreaked havoc. Your friends became even more offensive. started calling them names like Asian sluts, cheap whores etc and you were caught in the middle of it. Sasha asked you to do something about your friends. Everybody stopped for a second waiting for your answer on this. You thought about it, but you couldn’t disappoint your friends. so instead of an answer you just made an offensive impression of the way they talk in China. It was an unforgettable moment for your friends. Sasha and Kasumi said nothing else. they just left. humiliated. you remember your friends keep telling them nasty stuff as they were leaving… Two weeks later something terrible happened. It was Friday night and you were at the same bar. This time you were alone, waiting for a friend. That’s when you saw Sasha and Kasumi, right next to you. It was sudden, you just smiled politely; they seemed pretty OK despite what had happened the last time. They even bought you a drink, said it was their way to make peace. You smiled again. That’s the last thing you remember from that day…

Two days later you woke up in a bed. You had no idea where. They heard you screaming so they came in. You were up looking at yourself in a mirror. There was no body hair on you whatsoever. but that wasn’t everything. Most parts of your body were covered in tattoo, and not just any tattoos. You had little fairies and stars and butterflies and rainbows painted right above your cock! You had pink fairy wings inked on your back and a tribal tramp stamp right above your ass, but that wasn’t the worst part either! You had weird symbols inked all over you; Asian symbols. You had 2 anime girls on your feet and all kinds of Chinese letters on the rest of your body. If anyone saw you now, they would say you’re some kind of a fucked up gay boi with a fetish for anything Asian or something, you even had a tiny Chinese flag on your heart! They both giggled so much at you. They started explaining the meaning of those letters. You found out you had “Sasha” typed on the one arm and “Kasumi” on the other. you had “ASIAN PRINCESS” on your waist and “ASIAN POWER” on your ribcage. Finally, you had “GAY” on the left butt cheek and “PRIDE” on the other. you even found out you now had a belly button ring with some Asian symbol charms. You wanted to kill those girls, you wanted this madness to end. You wanted it to be a fucked up dream and nothing more. but unfortunately it wasn’t. You were there, handcuffed by some Asian whores, tattooed like some sick gay slut. Sasha was smiling, asking if you had finished admiring their work.  Then she told you to sit down and shut up and listen how it’s gonna be from now on… “You think I’m stupid? You think i don’t know about you? You think you could go on telling those fuckin shit about me forever? hah?? Well, i got news for ya! Listen…” “In order to keep your pathetic little life, you have to pay the price, which means doing what we say. Firstly you will keep the tattoos and the piercing, never trying to go anywhere to get them removed, and not only this but whenever me or Kasumi think of adding something we like on you, you will have to go get it put it all by yourself. So, you can say whatever the fuck you want about to anyone about your tats, but if i want to put "Asian Fuckdoll” in your face, you’re gonna go to a tattoo parlour and ask for it! Understood? Anyway, we decided not to be so harsh on you, for now, so at the moment all your tattoos can be covered by your clothes. We want you to keep your life after all. but if you ever do anything to upset us, your first butterfly will be inked on your neck! OK? Next,  as from this Monday, you will officially be our friend. which means no more shit about us anymore. OK? i don’t care what the fuck you’re gonna say to your filthy friends about your change, but YOU will never show any kind of disrespect to us or any of our friends. OK? And if a fight or some shit emerges, you’ll know which side to pick now. right? And i don’t care if it’s between us or your fuckin family we’re talkin about!! You’ll be OUR BITCH!! Thirdly, you will go out with us once per week and watch out, fucker. Since most times it’s just gonna be us girls maybe a few of our bff’s, you will NEVER hit on any of us! So, don’t think even for a sec about fucking us or our friends or anything! OK? You ’ll be with us just because it’s “fun”!  And if any of us ever tries to hit on you, you will reject her immediately. in fact, you’ll have to make sure that none of us hits on you, because for every friend of ours that hits on you, we will add a gay thing to you to do. so, keep your distance and be sure that you be a good friend, because you don’t want to strut around like Beyonce! OK? Also, again as from Monday you’ll have an official girlfriend. Kasumi!! OK? i’m sure your friends wouldn’t see it coming, but you’ll make up some shit about her to say to them. And she’s not gonna be just any girlfriend. You’ll act like crazy about her. You’ll talk about her as if she’s the woman of your dreams. You’ll never get to touch her though, so you’ll have to be careful with the lies that you’ll say about my friend. she has to come up as the one who pulls the strings. OK? Two more things. First, for you to constantly remember your place and never even think about yourself as being better than us, once per week you will have to suck a guy and let him cum wherever he wants on you. and don’t worry, since you’re new to this and you don’t know all the gay spots and how to find a man, we will guide you on this. We don’t care if you want it to be quick or anything. It can be however you want. what matters here is that you have a different man cum on your face, every week. If everything goes OK, in a year from now you’ll have tasted 52 different guys, in 2 years 104, in 3 years 156, and then we’ll be in a place to talk about us being sluts or not. As for privacy, again it’s up to you. We can be nice and keep it a secret and Kasumi can always be your alibi. As i told you. we don’t want you to ruin your life. you just have to pay. After all, i’m sure that after the first few guys, you ’re gonna be OK with it. It’s gonna be more like a weekly thing that has to be done, you know? Kinda like paying a bill or something. no one has to know anything. I’m sure in time you’ll see how much it’s NOT a big deal! and then you’ll know how wrong you were about us… And secondly, as from this Monday, you will start learning Chinese… i know it’s hard, baby, but think of the bright side: you can talk more with us cuties! You know, Kasumi said, like, she wanted to see your friends’ faces as she goes to your office and you start talking to each other in her native language. I know it’s bad, honey, but as from this Monday and i guess for the rest of your life, you’re gonna start taking Chinese lessons. I’m sure it’s gonna help you get more in touch with our beautiful culture anyway and I’m telling you: you’re gonna love it! We’ll even talk chinese when we go out so that we help you! Don’t worry, we’ll tell everybody your great grandmother was Asian and you want to keep your roots alive! OK?

She gave you one more week to decide.  Now you have to choose… will you be keeping your social status intact  and lose any kind of self respect and dignity from your old friends, becoming a puppet in the hands of a bunch of Asian sluts? Or do you rebel and fight for your independence and pride against a couple of psycho girls who will try to ruin you? Do you take the deal?

[possibilistfanfiction]

perfect places (just another graceless night)

[VIEWS—for those of you interested in a bit of sloane & nora’s backstory & what is really the backbone for everything in the show, heres their first night together. @turnandchasethewind & i are writing this whole big story together so u can talk to olivia abt the kids too] // to unravel a torment you must begin somewhere —louise bourgeois // everything is dark blue and you can see the stars, so it’s a good time to tell the truth. also, you’re really drunk, and you’re lying on your back next to nora, who smells like peonies and impossibly a little like confectioner’s sugar. the tiny tennis ball stick and poke she pressed into the skin just above your elbow stings, but that might be because you keep touching it, hard enough to hurt: things still move so fast around you sometimes; the world is heavy and aching and beautiful; it’s hard to tell, when you’re very empty or very full, what exactly is real.

but you’re pretty certain that this is real: the roofing tiles beneath your back; the sharpness of the smoke you inhale when nora hands you a shared belmont. her hands are steadier than yours but she’s young and she’d had absolutely no problems getting absolutely smashed with you, laughing when you’d suggested it at the event you were both working but then offering up her parents’ house in etobicoke. it’s a beautiful house, big and open, with a backyard and a pool surrounded by flowers. nora—who is very solid and who also did countless shots of whiskey and smoked at least six cigarettes before suggesting you do stick and pokes after she put pure heroine on her record player—laughs next to you, at her own story about her little sister, kennedy. you stopped paying attention to the actual words minutes ago because her voice is the same color as the sky just before sunrise; the same sky that you can see through the wisps of silver from between your ribs that remind you, somehow, of the ocean in vancouver; that remind you of nothing at all. nora laughs and then she turns and smiles over at you, this mega-watt thing that kind of takes your breath away, because, in some way, this is fun for her, this young desperate aching. nora smiles and takes a drag from the cigarette you hand back over, hands shaking. her room is all pale pinks and blues and a perfectly clean white duvet, a fair amount of posters of beyonce, a wall of polaroids of her friends and strings of fairy lights, little succulents lined up against one windowsill. did you walk out of a fucking nylon or something?, you’d asked her, and she’s laughed again, fishing out a bottle of jack daniels from behind a few books. 

‘tell me something i should know about you,’ she says, after you’ve done your tattoos and climbed out of the window clumsily onto where her roof overhangs the backyard. you want to tell her that it’s the first time you’ve been on a rooftop in ages that you haven’t wanted to jump, but it’s only the second story and that’s a dramatic thing to say in general. ‘you tell me, you fucker.’ she rolls her eyes but she shrugs. ‘fine,’ she says. ‘i’m bisexual.’ ‘that’s boring,’ you say, and you catch her huff a laugh out of the corner, and it makes you want to grin and cry all at the same time. ‘you have literally like seventeen posters of beyonce in your room.’ ‘she’s beautiful,’ nora says, and it’s so sincere and so reverent you can’t help but laugh.  she turns and rests her chin on the palm of her hand, tries very hard to focus on you. ‘my big brother is my favorite person in the world,’ you say. ‘he’s funny and solid and i throw a party for him every year on the day he started t.’ nora grins. ‘invite me. i make a mean double fudge macaroon.’ ‘that’s—’ you shake your head— ‘what’s the point of that?’ ‘they’re amazing if you eat like twelve.’ ‘fine,’ you relent. ‘you can come next time.’ ‘sweet,’ nora says. ‘thank you, sloane.’ it’s so sincere you blink once. ‘you’re welcome, nora.’ you’re sure she could tell you lots more about herself, things you’ll learn in time: her little sister terrifies her because she goes to like five protests a month; nora knows four languages; she thought her parents would be angry when she didn’t want to go to university, when she wanted to work with her hands, but they weren’t. she’s afraid of silverfish and going up on roller coasters; sometimes when she’s overwhelmed she prays.  but for now she’s quiet, gentle.  you light another cigarette after a few minutes, the sky lightening to the purple of another helpless bruise. you let your lungs burn for a moment. ‘i tried to commit suicide,’ you say, and she doesn’t move at all, only breathes steadily. ‘before i moved here. i drove my car into a pole.’ you pause and wait for her to roll her eyes, or tell you to go inside and leave, or for her to freak out or cry. the world tilts a little when she doesn’t do any of those things, just turns toward you and nods.  ‘i broke my collarbone and ruptured my spleen,’ you say, lifting your shirt to show her the scar that runs along your stomach, the scar that’s fading daily but is still red, angry, here. ‘but that’s about it.’ nora’s hand is remarkably steady when she brushes her fingers over it, then takes your own trembling hand in hers. ‘i’m glad you sucked at your end goal,’ she says, very seriously, and it draws a messy, wet laugh out of you. she smiles gently and lays back, laces your fingers together a little tighter.  ‘me too,’ you say. later you’ll tell her that you were manic and depressed at the same time, that some days you can’t sleep, some days you can’t wake up. she’ll go with you to shoppers every month to get your lamotrigine, usually throwing in a box of tampons and some sour jujubes every time. she’ll meet you in christy pits even though it’s raining and late, because you can’t stay still and you’ll go to the swing set like children, like you’ve never been hurt at all from jumping. and you will adore her with the same assuredness. she will become a balm for your brain and you will become one for hers, although it’s hard to believe that now. she will make you smile and let you borrow her boots when yours are too worn out and you will make music, sometimes, just for her. in so many of the ways that matter, she will become the greatest love of your life.  for now, though, you put out your cigarette and she leads you by the hand through her window, pulls down the duvet. you climb in bed together, tangle up because you’re drunk and young and hurting and whole. she hums a little beyonce and you laugh and you are in this new city, here and then and now, and you are becoming and you are home.  you fall asleep as the sky’s bruise fades.