"Since the 1997 handover of Hong Kong to China, the semi-autonomous city has operated under a "one country, two systems" formula, allowing a limited democracy. In August, the Chinese government announced plans to vet candidates in Hong Kong’s 2017 elections, virtually assuring only pro-Beijing politicians would be on the ballots. Student groups and pro-democracy supporters have taken to the streets in recent days to protest the limitations and to demand universal suffrage. Tens of thousands of demonstrators have occupied Hong Kong’s Central District, bringing parts of the city to a standstill. The protests are one of the largest political challenges to Beijing since the 1989 Tiananmen Square crackdown. Chinese officials have scolded protesters and warned against any foreign interference."
Top: When your close friend gets married to a lovely blonde lady, and you are just so happy for him.
Bottom: When your “close friend” gets married to a lovely blonde lady, and you are just so “happy” for him.
72 Degrees in the shade.
The Animated Self Portrait
Favorite Movies: A Little Princess (1995)"I am a princess. All girls are. Even if they live in tiny, old attics. Even if they dress in rags. Even if they aren’t pretty, or smart, or young. They’re still princess, all of us. Didn’t your father ever tell you that?”
also that whole tale of aragorn and arwen thing where he saw her in the woods at twenty and fell instantly in love and it’s very beren and luthien? lies.
aragorn decided he was going to marry arwen when he was like, six.
and everyone thought it was just the cutest thing, baby estel with his little crush on the great immortal evenstar, and everyone would tease him about it relentlessly and he would get so mad, and pout, because how dare they doubt his word.
(arwen spent a lot of time biting back smiles and nodding very seriously when aragorn brings this up with her. no, estel, I do not know why they are laughing perhaps they have remembered a particularly funny joke.)
and then aragorn grows into this gangly teen and oh my god can you imagine being a pimply greasy teenager around fucking elves it’s a wonder he has any self-image left. His voice breaks every other word and the laundresses are beginning to wonder if something is wrong with the sheets because estel keeps washing them himself and aragorn wants to die, god, arwen is never going to marry him if he stays all elbows and skinny knees and he can’t even look her in the eye anymore without blushing, eye contact is probably something to look for in a husband—
(arwen, who never had to go through puberty because elves don’t do anything so undignified, tries to comfort him by saying she likes his blemishes. aragorn gives her a look of such utter, miserable despair that she starts laughing.)
(this is a mistake. he spends the next three weeks nursing his wounded ego and refusing to see her.)
estel is twenty when he asks for her hand. he is lean, slender and fair as a new tree, and so arwen does not feel guilt in kissing his cheek and gently refusing. he is still green, he will weather greater storms than this—and he takes it as he should, clasping her hand and swearing to ever be her loyal friend.
they write to each other—when she is in lorien, when he wanders with the rangers of the north, fights alongside gondor, travels to distant lands. it is an inconstant tie—he is rarely afforded time enough to put pen to paper; she is reserved so as not to encourage what may not be. (she signs her letters always, your friend. She likes him too well to be cruel in this.)
the years pass. his weariness and strife creeps onto the page, and she sends him tokens to fend off the darkness—leaves from lothlorien, the ribbon from her hair, snippets of poems. it is not enough it is never enough I am sorry, she writes.
his reply is gentle: you are enough. do not stop writing.
(she carries that letter tucked inside her sleeve for a long while, like a talisman—though against what evil, she does not know.)
she is in the house of her grandmother when a familiar voice calls out to her: my lady luthien!
this is when arwen looks up, sees aragorn—broad of chest and rugged, still wearing his battered mail, with one hand balanced lazily on the pommel of his sword. All the trees of caras galadhon are gold but he is shadow and silver, kingliness resting lightly on his shoulders—
and arwen thinks, oh fuck
Liz quickly discovers that dating is not like riding a bike- you can forget how . In the months following her break up she embarks on a series of terrible short lived relationships. It’s a good thing then that her career has taken off- except it hasn’t, LIz finds herself working one menial job after the other, playing gigs in small time bars in the evenings, gigs at which she gets heckled more than she gets applause. It’s at one of these bars, while trying to recover from yet another unsuccesful performance that she meets Kate.
Meadow and Liz try therapy for a couple of months, but LIz seems set on a life that diverges in every way from Meadow’s. Meadow has own life, her own dreams, ambitions to think and after a fight too many she walks away. In the days and weeks following their break up, Liz finally realises what it is to feel utterly alone. But by this time she’s burned way too many bridges to go back.
Feeling trapped, Liz tries desperately to revert back to her uni days. She quits her job and moves out of the house she shares with Meadow into a tiny bland rental. A fresh start, she thinks will solve her problems. Meadow struggles to understand and they fight constantly, As a last resot, she suggests therapy, which for a couple of months looks like it might worl.