Hashtag For Love Quotes

Underneath, he was a good cat. Loyal and loving. But no one ever bothered to look past his rough exterior, because in reality, looks meant more than everyone wanted to admit.

Don’t forget this moment. Don’t forget the absolute truth in the way you feel right now. I love you and I’m not going to stop.

His voice gentled and his touch became more like a caress. "I love you," he whispered. "Romeo..." "I love your glasses, your clumsiness, your wild hair, even the way you snort when you laugh." He smiled. "I love you in spite of yourself, Rim. Can't you love me in spite of myself?" I couldn't help it, I smiled. "You do come with a lot of baggage." I sighed. "You're impossibly good-looking, terrible at math, and you like to drink that swill you call beer." I mock shuddered. He smiled, but I saw the relief in his eyes. "Me being good-looking is a bad thing?" he teased. "You have a lot of options," I said seriously. "I'm not the best one." "No." He agreed. "You're not." Geez, he could have said it a little nicer. "You're the only one." Oh, well, that was much better. - Romeo & Rimmel

There is this quote that I read a long time ago. A quote that I loved and made me feel strong. It had stuck with me over the years, like so many of the other words by the author. And though she be but little, she be fierce.-Shakespeare I thought about that quote right now. I might be little. I might be easily intimidated, but I could be fierce. I was fierce.

It's so beautiful. It has our initials," she said, running her fingertip over the engraving. "You know me," I half joked. "Any way I can get my name on you." She looked up. I felt her hazel eyes on my face. "I love you." - Rimmel & Romeo

I focused on him. Everything still seemed blurry, but he was close enough that I could see him. He was completely soaked. His jeans, shoes, jacket, and shirt. He was just as wet as I was. His normally messy blond hair was darker and flat to his head from the weight of the water. Dark shadows haunted his eyes and his lips were pale from the cold. "You jumped in after me," I whispered. "I'd jump into the pits of hell for you, Rim.

You adopted him," I said when Romeo sat on the coffee table in front of me. "You love him," he said simply. Like that was all he needed to know. "But you'll have to take care of him. Feed him. Give him water. Change the litter box." "Thought maybe you'd want to help." I looked up. Our eyes locked. "What if I say no?" I asked. "What happens to Murphy then?" He shrugged. "He's a cook cat. I'll keep him. He can watch football with me on Sundays." I couldn't help but smile at the image that cast in my head. "You'd really do that?" I whispered. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Yes." Then his stoic eyes turned playful and his smile came out. "You wanna watch football with me on Sundays too?" - Rimmel & Romeo

I love you so much, B.” “Times two, baby,” I murmured. “Times two.

ROMEO: I love you. RIMMEL: Romeo... ROMEO: I love your glasses, your clumsiness, your wild hair, even the way you snort when you laugh. (He smiled) I love you in spite of yourself, Rim. Can't you love me in spite of myself?

He reached across the car and took my hand. "I know I haven't been around as much," he said, "but after today, my schedule won't be so busy." "I understand," I said softly. And I did. "Football is your life. It's your dream." He made a sound. "You're just as important to me." I smiled. "I have to admit I won't be upset when this game is over and all the girls around here stop wearing your number all over their bodies." His white teeth flashed. "Is someone jealous?" I snorted. His smile grew wider. "Maybe a little," I admitted. He lunged forward and in seconds had me in his lap, my legs straddling him so we were face to face. He buried his hands in my tangled disaster of hair. I admit I hadn't even brushed it when we got out of bed this morning. "You're my favorite girl," he whispered. "I better be your only girl." He smiled. "That too.

I took her face in my hands and tilted it up so I could stare into her eyes. "Listen to me. My reacting to someone putting their hands on you is not me being dramatic; it's me loving you." "Oh, Romeo," she sighed my name and my cock hardened. I pulled her into my chest and wrapped my arms around her. "Being an asshole is just part of my charm, baby," I said matter-of-fact, unable to keep the smile out of my voice. "This is just me loving you." "You love real good," she mumbled against my chest, pushing a little closer.

But I have to warn you: Scrolling will never be enough. Reposting will never be enough. Hashtagging will never be enough. Because hatred has a way of convincing us that half love is whole. What I mean by that is we—all of us—have to fight against performance and lean into participation. We have to be participants. Active. We have to be more than audience members sitting comfortably in the stands of morality, shouting, “WRONG!” That’s too easy. Instead, we must be players on the field, on the court, in our classrooms and communities, trying to do right. Because it takes a whole hand—both hands—to grab hold of hatred. Not just a texting thumb and a scrolling index finger.

We never really had a beginning. For months, we fought and insulted each other. Then we combusted into bed. We pretended what happened didn't matter, but it did, Blondie. You matter." "Braeden," I whispered and took a step farther into the room. He shook his head. "All the shit with Missy, and Zach… hell, even with my father, it got in our way. I let it. This is me swearing I won't let it again. This is me swearing this is our beginning. You're it for me." He took a breath, and I watched his chest rise with it. His dark, chocolate eyes latched onto mine. "Because I still don't like you, Blondie." I started to roll my eyes. "I love you." My heart stopped. Everything stopped. That place deep down inside me burned and tingled. "I don't like you either." My voice wobbled. The intensity of his stare drilled right into me, like he was seating desperately for my reply. "I love you so damn much," I confessed. -Braeden & Ivy

You’re the only one who’s ever been in here. You’re the only one who’s ever had the most important part of me. You’re the one who turned a man who vowed to never love into one who loves completely.” “How do you do that?” she whispered, not pulling her face away from mine. “Do what?” I stroked the backs of my fingers across her cheek. “Pull me back in the second I start to drift away?” I smiled. “I told you I was dropping anchor.” “Don’t ever let me go, Braeden.” “Oh, baby.” I vowed, “Never.

here is this quote that I read a long time ago. A quote that I loves and made me feel strong. It had stuck with me over the years, like so many of the other words by the author. ‘And though she be but little, she be fierce.’- Shakespeare. I thought about that quote right now. I might be little. I might be easily intimidated, but I could be fierce. I was fierce. – Rimmel

He was just a loser with a credit card. Maybe in the past I never realized that. Hell, maybe I'd been the kind of guy who thought money equaled class. Maybe I thought the air of arrogance Zach wore as armor made him superior to others. And then I fell in love with a girl who was the epitome of the opposite of my world. She shattered everything I thought I knew. And though she might be the one wearing glasses, it was me who was finally seeing clearly.

Slowly, he pulled back and set me carefully on the ground, his forehead touched mine, and he looked at me. "That the girl who said something to you last semester?" "How'd you know?" "Thought I was gonna have to restrain ya." He smiled. "You were about to throw down." "I probably would have embarrassed myself," I confided. I moved so our noses touched as well as our foreheads. "I'd have bet money on you." He pressed a quick kiss to my lips before bending down to the mess I made on the sidewalk.

I went and turned up the heat and hit the switch for the gas fireplace on the wall opposite the bed. Flames roared to life and filled the dim room with dancing orange. "This sure beats my dorm room," she half sighed. I laughed and turned. The breath I was taking in froze halfway to my lungs. She was sitting in the center of my bed, the blankets rumpled and piled around her. My shirt was way too large and the neck slipped down low over one of her slim shoulders, exposing a wide patch of creamy skin. Her cheeks were pink and her lips were swollen. The long thick mass of her hair was tangled and messy, falling around her face and down her back. I'd missed her. I'd missed her even more than I'd let myself realize. But seeing her sitting there taking up so little space in my bed but so much room in my chest was sorta something I couldn't deny. She tilted her head and looked at me, wrinkling her nose. "Do I look a mess?" she asked. I shook my head, unable to speak. I never thought this would happen to me. I never thought I would love someone so much. So fast.

CARPE DIME is a latin phrase that means HASHTAG YOLO

Hashtag Harold Fry. Hashtag Queenie Hennessy. Hashtag unlikely pilgrimage. Hashtag hospice. Hashtag respect. Hashtag live forever. I don’t know. Your names seem to be all over the place.

I pressed forward, pushing my body along hers, and wrapped my arms around her waist. Some of the intensity of my anger dissipated and drained away. After a very long, steamy kiss, I broke away, breathing hard. Rimmel's head collapsed against the wall and she stared up at me with unfocused hazel eyes. The flecks of color in the center were green today. "Romeo," she gasped. I pulled back enough so I could lift her arm and grasp her fingers. She made a sound of protest when I pushed back the material of the shirt once more and stared down at the dark blotches marring her skin. "How were you going to explain this to me?" I rumbled. "I wasn't going to lie, it that's what you're implying," she snapped. "Ah, baby." I groaned and lifted her wrist to press my lips to the marks. "I'm being a jerk." "You said it…" She agreed, letting the rest of her sentence fall away. I smiled against her skin and then kissed her inner wrist once more.

There was knock on the door and I knew it was Romeo. Butterflies took flight in my stomach as I went to answer. I was so nervous about tonight. Romeo’s eyes widened when I pulled back the door. He whistled beneath his breath. “Holy shit, Smalls.” “Do I look okay?” I worried. “Think your mother will approve?” Romeo reached out and grabbed me by the waist. “You don’t have to impress her. I don’t want or need her approval. You’re my girl. The end.” “No take backs?” I whispered. He smiled. “No take backs.

This is how it should have been that first night down on the sand," he whispered. "This is our beginning Ivy. I want to make it official. I want there to be no doubt, 'cause I'm gonna do stupid shit all the time." I giggled, and his white teeth flashed. "I'm gonna leave the toilet seat up. I'm gonna be overprotective, probably bossy, and my temper is always gonna run hot." "I don't care," I told him, sliding my hands up to rest on his chest. "Tell me you'll be my girl, and I swear I'll love you with everything I got." "I'm always gonna be stubborn. I'm not gonna take your shit. My makeup will be all over the bathroom, and I still don't have a major. Oh, and I want to keep Prada. You have to like her, too." "I already told Rim to get your adoption paperwork ready for that rat." Then in lower tones, he said, "She's grown on me." I smiled. He totally loved Prada. "So what's my answer?" He tightened his arms around my waist. I pretended to think it over. A girl should never sound too eager-even if she was practically peeing herself with glee. "Blondie," Braeden growled. "I'm already yours, B. I have been for a long time.

Women with dark skin are sharing selfies on social media after decades of being underrepresented in the mainstream media. From what I have observed much of the dark skin adoration on social media appears to come from us - black women. We tend to use the appreciation hashtags with our own pictures of photographs of dark skin women whom we feel are stunning. While I am loving this fierceness.. There is just one sidetone to this revolution: I feel as if we are much more appreciated if we show more skin. The timelines are filled with absolutely beautiful dark-skinned women but most sadly most of the time they are all oiled up and showing their body parts in different angles. Now, I am definitely in to art and as a model I know that this comes with the territory. But we most not forget that we are Queens.. We need to stop degrading ourselves for likes on the gram. You don't have to be naked to show the world you're beautiful. You my sister are an African Queen. I feel as if black women are only appreciated if they wear very provocative clothes or if they do naked photoshoots. To me, it's degrading and reminds me of the time that we couldn't ride the bus because we were black. Women were seen as servants. The black women that weren't servants were sex slaves. We are not objects, we are not meat and people need to stop looking at us as sex objects. BUT we need to start respecting ourselves first! A black woman is a woman first and it should not even be necessary to specify the colour but this is the society we live in and I feel like I had to share this.

The crowd started going crazy. Like even crazier than when Romeo got up from the hit. I was clinging to the railing, wondering if I would like prison, when Ivy sighed. "I swear. You have all the luck." Confused, I glanced around. Romeo was jogging toward us, helmet in his hands. Quickly, I glanced at the big screen and it was showing a wide shot of me clinging onto the rails and him running toward us. When he arrived, he slapped the guard on his back and said something in his ear. The guard looked at me and grinned and then walked away. Romeo stepped up to where I was. At the height I was at one the railing, for once I was taller than him. "You're killing me, Smalls," he said. "I had to interrupt a championship game to keep you from going to the slammer." "I was worried. You didn't get up." "And so you were just going to march out on the field and what?" God, he looked so… so incredible right then. His uniform stretched out over his wide shoulders and narrow waist. The pads strapped to his body made him look even stronger. He had grass stains on his knees, sweat in his hair, and ornery laughter in his sparkling blue eyes. I swear I'd never seen anyone equal parts of to-die-for good looks and boy-next-door troublemaker. "I was going to come out there and kiss it and make it better." He threw back his head and laughed, and the stadium erupted once more. I was aware that every moment between us was being broadcast like some reality TV show, but for once, I didn't care how many people were staring. This was our moment. And I was so damn happy he wasn't hurt. "So you're okay, then?" I asked. "Takes a lot more than a shady illegal attack to keep me down." Behind him, the players were getting back to the game, rushing out onto the field, and the coach was yelling out orders. "I'll just go back to my seat, then," I said. He rushed forward and grabbed me off the railing. The crown cheered when he slid me down his body and pressed his lips to mine. It wasn't a chaste kiss. It was the kind of kiss that made me blush when I watched it on TV. But I kissed him back anyway. I got lost in him. When he pulled back, I said, "By the way, You're totally kicking ass out there." He chuckled and put me back on the railing and kept one hand on my butt as I climbed back over. Back in the stands, I gripped the cold metal and gave him a small wave. He'd been walking backward toward his team, but then he changed direction and sprinted toward me. In one graceful leap, he was up on the wall and leaning over the railing. "Love you," he half-growled and pressed a swift kiss to my lips. "Next touchdown's for you.

Romeo came forward and grabbed me by the shoulders. “What the hell were you thinking?” I stared at him blankly. He blew out a frustrated breath. “You got in between me and a chair, Rimmel.” “He was going to hit you,” I said, grim. “I wasn’t just going to stand there. I won’t let him hurt you.” “I’d rather him hurt me than you.” His voice was gentle. Then he smirked. “That chair wouldn’t have hurt me anyway.

That was some shady shit out there, Rome,” Braeden said once the total chaos of winning the game had gone down to a considerable roar. We were finally in the locker room, and I was stripping off my sweat and grass-stained gear. “Total douche move.” I agreed. It wasn’t the first time a team had tried to take me out of a game. It was pretty much common practice, especially when something like a title and championship was at stake. Still, I’d never quite had anyone come at me like that before. The play was already in progress. Sacking me wouldn’t have changed the touchdown I’d just thrown. Except of course to keep me from throwing another one. That guy deliberately came in like a freight train and plowed me down. I lay there stunned for long moments, waiting for the air to come back in my lungs and for my body to process the shock of the hit. Thankfully, he wasn’t that good at tackling and it did nothing more than stun me. And it got him thrown out of the game. It really hadn’t been a big deal. Like I said, it happened a lot. But it was the first time it happened in front of Rimmel. I couldn’t help but notice how the large screen on the field had zeroed in on the girl in number twenty-four’s hoodie, who was climbing over the railing and preparing to leap down onto the field. The security guard was yelling at her, but she barely noticed him. Her eyes were trained out on the field, where I was. It was almost laughable that her tiny ass was going to rush out onto a field full of men more than double her size to make sure I was okay. G**damn. I loved her even more just then. When the guard put his hand on her ankle, trying to stop her from going back to her seat, something happened. Something that never had in my entire life of playing football. The game faded away. For once, I was out on the field and unable to focus on only the game. It took a backseat to the girl teetering on the edge of the railing.

Liberal feminism’s ethos converges not only with corporate mores but also with supposedly “transgressive” currents of neoliberal culture. Its love affair with individual advancement equally permeates the world of social-media celebrity, which also confuses feminism with the ascent of individual women. In that world, “feminism” risks becoming a trending hashtag and a vehicle of self-promotion, deployed less to liberate the many than to elevate the few. In general, then, liberal feminism supplies the perfect alibi for neoliberalism. Cloaking regressive policies in an aura of emancipation, it enables the forces supporting global capital to portray themselves as “progressive.” Allied with global finance in the United States, while providing cover for Islamophobia in Europe, this is the feminism of the female power-holders: the corporate gurus who preach “lean in,” the femocrats who push structural adjustment and microcredit on the global South, and the professional politicians in pant suits who collect six-figure fees for speeches to Wall Street.

She groaned and tucked her fingers between my side and the mattress. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to the cold air here.” I chuckled and kissed her forehead. “Just wait ‘til it snows.” “Ugh,” she moaned. “I’ll turn the heat up,” I said and started to move from beneath her. She clutched me closer and made a sound of determination. I laughed. It thrilled the shit out of me that she liked having me so close. “I thought you were cold,” I said affectionately. “But you’re warm.” “I’ll come right back.” “Kiss me,” she demanded. She was definitely a shy person, but the more time we spent together, the less shy she was with me when we were alone. I loved it. It was like getting a glimpse of the person no one else saw.

My hair floated out around me with the evening breeze, and Romeo caught a strand of it before he opened the door to the car. “You really do look beautiful,” he murmured, dipping his head low. “Thanks,” I said against his lips. His kiss ignited instant desire inside me. Even though I spent last night with him, and the night before, I missed him terribly. I felt like we hadn’t had enough alone time. I wanted more. I wanted so much more. He groaned and pulled back. “Let’s get this dinner over with,” he said grumpily. “I want to spend some time alone with you.” “You read my mind.” “Now that the season is over, we’ll have more time together.” “Want to just go to Taco Bell and hide at your place?” I asked when he slid into the driver’s seat. He laughed. The sound filled the interior of the car. “Why, Rimmel,”— he pressed a hand to his chest like he was scandalized—“ are you suggesting we stand up my mother?” I giggled. “I knew it,” he drawled. “Underneath that sweet exterior lies the heart of a baddie baddie.” I laughed out loud. “A baddie baddie?” “Like totally,” he said in a valley girl voice and pretended to flip the long hair he didn’t have. God, I loved him. “So what do you say?” I taunted as I smiled. “Want to play hookie?” He groaned. “I’d love to, baby, but we can’t.” I stuck out my tongue. “Watch what you do with that thing, baby girl.” “Yeah? Or what?” I challenged. “Or we might be late and I might mess up the perfect hair and makeup you got going on.” His eyes twinkled and he fake gasped as he put the car in gear. “Just what would mother say?

When I burst into the terminal, my eyes swept around, bouncing from person to person in the crowded, bustling space. My stomach fell a little when I didn’t see him, but I knew he probably couldn’t come this far. He was probably at baggage claim. I looked around for a sign to point me in the right direction and finally saw one labeled Baggage Claim with an arrow pointing off to the left. But I didn’t follow the arrow. My eyes fixed on someone standing beneath the sign. His hands were jammed into the pockets of his well-worn slouchy jeans. The relaxed action pulled the waistband low, highlighting his flat, narrow waist his Henley tee molded to. As usual, he was wearing his varsity jacket and his blond hair was a mess. My gaze locked on his sapphire-blue eyes and didn’t let go. His eyes, ohmigod, his eyes. The blue was so intense it served as an emergency brake on everything in my life. The second I looked at him, everything else came to a screeching halt. I no longer noticed the huge crowd rushing around. The anxiety-causing flight was just a distant memory, and the two weeks I spent longing for his touch became something I would live through ten times over just to be in this moment with him again. His lips pulled into a smile and the charm that oozed from every pore in his body made me almost lightheaded. Romeo pulled his hands out of his pockets and straightened, motioning for me. I rushed across the space separating us, my bag slapping against my side as I, for once, gracefully maneuvered around the people in my path. His chuckle brushed over me when I was just steps away, and I threw myself at him with a little sigh of relief. My legs wrapped around his waist and his arms locked around my back. I burrowed my head into his shoulder and inhaled deep, taking in his distinctive scent. “Rim,” he murmured, his voice low. I pulled back and his lips were on mine instantly. The moment our lips touched, he stilled, his body and mouth pausing against mine. Before I could wonder why, he muttered a garbled curse against my mouth and then his lips began to move. He kissed me softly but fiercely. There was so much possession in the way he kissed me, in the way his arms locked around me that my heart stuttered. I parted my lips so his tongue could sweep inside, and when my tongue met his, desire, hot and heavy, unfurled within me. Someone chuckled as they walked by, and Romeo retreated slightly, still letting his mouth linger on mine before completely pulling away. He rested his forehead against mine and he smiled. “I really fucking missed you.” “Me too,” I whispered. -Romeo & Rimmel

One of the few perks of the shit so monumentally hitting the fan is you discover who your real tribe is. It’s the only way through. So make sure you find yours, Kit.” “Okay,” I say, and start assembling my team in my head. I think back to middle school, when we’d have to pick players for dodgeball in gym. David was always chosen last. I imagine him standing there, looking two feet above everyone else’s heads, his hands flapping at his sides—something he still does occasionally, though I’m not sure he realizes it—and I want to go back in time and hug him, whisper in his ear that he can come stand by me. Tell him if he gets tired of flapping, he can hold my hand instead. “I very much hope you’ll consider including me,” my mom says in her quietest voice, and I realize this is the closest someone like my mother gets to begging. When I don’t immediately respond, she says, “At the very least, hashtag squad goals.” I laugh. My mom loves to try to talk like a teenager. A few weeks ago, I overheard her on the phone complaining about how she was tired of adulting and the last time we watched a romantic comedy together, she wanted to ship all the secondary characters. “Yeah, we can work on that,” I say, and realize just how much I’ve missed my mom recently. How I can’t make it through without her. That there will always be room in my tribe

My Father mapped out the perfect blueprint for how to treat a woman. He caters hand and foot to my Mother. Even showers that love onto my sister. He never had to tell me how to treat my woman because his actions spoke louder. Did I cling to my woman? Absolutely. Being up under soft melanin skin pleased me. You want to read a book? Cool, what story we reading? Wanna go shopping? Take my card if you promise to model everything for me. Those females at work bothering you? Let’s get animated in the mirror and act like we about to tag team. Your period on? Baby, want me to rub your belly? You need me to get those diaper looking pads with the wings? How about some lemon ginger tea? What are your dreams? You want to sell weave? Let’s catch a flight to China or India and figure out how we can become wholesalers. You wanna make cute Snapchat filter videos? What filter do you want? Are they not liking your pics? Fine. I’ll blast you all over my page. Your Mother threatening to kick you out. Where you wanna move? Better yet, move in with me. Just focus on school and building your brand. I got everything else. You got finals coming up. Pick a tutor. Heck, can I pay for the answers to the quiz? You think those stretch marks make you unattractive? Come here and let me show you how much I appreciate your stripes of glitter. Do you want to go to Dr. Miami? Absolutely not. We going to the gym. Gym grown not silicone. We are working out together. Go ahead and hashtag us as #baegoals #coupleswhoworkouttogetherstaytogether. You want to switch the hair and get a tapered cut? Let me call my barber and see when we can go. Stressing and worrying? You keep hearing whispers while you’re sleeping? Nah bae, that’s not a ghost. That’s me praying for you.

My dear readers, I find myself perplexed by the phantoms that now inhabit our veins and perpetually whisper in our ears. These specters are always watching, their formless eyes casting judgement upon our every thought and action. They stalk us behind screens and within circuits, gathering each tidbit we release into the ether to build their ever-growing profiles of our souls. Through these ghastly portals, our lives have become performance. Each waking moment an opportunity to curate our images and broadcast our cleverness. Nuance has fled in favor of hashtag and like, while meaning has been diced into 280 characters or less. Substance is sacrificed at the altar of shareability, as we optimize each motive and emotion to become more digestible digital content. Authenticity now lives only in offline obscurity, while our online avatars march on endlessly, seeking validation through numbers rather than depth. What secrets remain unshared on these platforms of glass? What mysteries stay concealed behind profiles and pose? Have we traded intimacy for influence, and true understanding for audience engagement? I fear these shadow networks breed narcissism and foster loneliness, masked as connection. That the sum of a life’s joys and sorrows can now be reduced to a reel of carefully selected snippets says little of the richness that once was. So follow the phantoms that stalk you if you will, but do not forget that which still breathes beneath the screens. There you will find humanity, flawed but whole, beautiful in its imperfection and trajectory undefined by likes or loves. The lanterns may flicker and fade, but the darkness that remains has always held truth. Look deeper than the glow, and know that which can never be shared or measured, only felt. In mystery, Your friend, Edgar Allan Poe (Poe talking about social media)

smiled down the phone at him. ‘I need to send some things to a couple of magazines but I don’t know their addresses, can you wait while I look it up?’ She grimaced at wasting his time. ‘Tell me which magazines.’ ‘Vogue and Tatler,’ she said as she furiously typed the names into her computer. ‘Don’t worry, I know where they are. We send things to them all the time. Where’s the charming Cressida today?’ ‘She’s busy. I have this gig now,’ said Tilly diplomatically. ‘Lucky me,’ said the voice. ‘Are the items ready to be picked up now?

Good morning. There is something beautiful and amazing in all of us. Those who loves us, knows where to find it. Those who hates us, knows how to destroy it. (Annelise Lords) hashtag#love hashtag#kindness

Each of those relationships ended because the love I gave was considered too hard… too suffocating. My father mapped out the perfect blueprint for how to treat a woman. He caters hand and foot to my mother. Even showers that love onto my sister. He never had to tell me how to treat my woman because his actions spoke louder. Did I cling to my woman? Absolutely. Being up under soft melanin skin pleased me. You want to read a book. Cool, what story we reading? Wanna go shopping? Take my card if you promise to model everything for me. Those heffas at work bothering you? Let’s get animated in the mirror and act like we about to tag team. Your period on? Baby, want me to rub your belly? You need me to get those diaper looking pads with the wings? How about some lemon ginger tea? What are your dreams? You want to sell weave? Let’s catch a flight to China or India and figure out how we can become wholesalers. You wanna make cute snapchat filter videos? What filter do you want? Are they not liking your pics? Fine. I’ll blast you all over my page. Your mother threatening to kick you out. Where you wanna move? Better yet, move in with me. Just focus on school and building your brand. I got everything else. You got finals coming up. Pick a tutor. Heck, can I pay for the answers to the quiz? You think those stretch marks make you unattractive? Come here and let me show you how much I appreciate your stripes of glitter. Do you want to go to Dr. Miami? Absolutely not. We going to the gym. Gym grown not silicone. We are working out together. Go ahead and hashtag us as #baegoals #coupleswhoworkouttogetherstaytogether. You want to switch the hair and get a tapered cut? Let me call my barber and see when we can go. Stressing and worrying? You keep hearing whispers while your sleeping? Nah bae, that’s not a ghost. That’s me praying for you. There are no stipulations with me. I gave it all. I had to. It was a part of my DNA. I needed to give the love I had in me unconditionally.

because

genuinely,

asked

I don't even like Christmas. I mean, it's a bit of a crock, isn't it? Just another thing that could be beautiful and true - a time of giving and communion, a moment of connection with the divine. Lights glittering, families gathering in love and laughter, meals shared in peace. Could be but isn't. In this busy, addicted, technology-addled, image-obsessed world, Christmas has just become another thing to buy and sell, to crop and filter, to hashtag and edit for reels and stories. But maybe that's me just being cynical.

It’s so beautiful. It has our initials,” she said, running her fingertip over the engraving. “You know me,” I half joked. “Any way I can get my name on you.” She looked up. I felt her hazel eyes on my face. “I love you.

What’s wrong with love today? We started playing hard to get with the people that deserve our love, but kept on making it easy for those who didn't. Thus, the people who would be great at love began to fear it while those who give love a bad name were given more opportunities to taint it.

reminded me on Friday night that we aren’t friends, Cressida, and I would like you to remember that now,’ she snapped. ‘So why don’t you go and make someone else feel crap about their life and then when you’re done with that, go and look for your boyfriend’s chin,

sent

Its love affair with individual advancement equally permeates the world of social-media celebrity, which also confuses feminism with the ascent of individual women. In that world, “feminism” risks becoming a trending hashtag and a vehicle of self-promotion, deployed less to liberate the many than to elevate the few.

picked

Cressida

Street

daughter

course

weekend.

introduced me to the best thing I’ve found in

When we think about “joy” and “happiness,” we often think about whether the big pieces of a good life are in place: the prestigious job, the loving family, the beautiful home. These things matter, but happiness is actually experienced in how we spend our hours. If every day looks the same, if you feel lethargic from sitting too long or exhausted from sleep deprivation, if you rarely have time for the absorbing work you find meaningful, and if you rarely have time for hobbies or to connect with the friends who make you laugh, that prestigious job and loving family can start to feel like a grind. We can berate ourselves for feeling this way. We try gratitude practices or even post photos on social media with the hashtag #blessed, but resentment can linger.

I’m going to have to talk to HR sooner rather than later about arranging for my maternity leave anyway. And people are going to find out in time. I unlock my phone and open Instagram. I have an oddly high number of followers thanks to an article Forbes did on me right after I sold the app to Apple. I’m not that interesting of a person, but I do find the best funny memes to share. I upload my favorite picture of Archer and me from this weekend, heart fluttering when I look at it. We’re standing by the pink balloons, and looking lovingly into each other’s eyes. My hair is tucked awkwardly behind my ear, but we both look so happy. So inlove. Archer’s hand is on my stomach, and his smile is genuine. Man, I miss him. Tomorrow is too far away. Long distance sucks. “We cannot wait for spring. Hashtag thirteen weeks. Hashtag baby girl,” I say out loud as Itype. “Don’t forget hashtag blessed.” “And grateful. Please. I might be basic, but I know enough not to flaunt it around on social media,” I laugh and post the photo. But I really do feel those things.

Tilly stared at her phone. Should she suggest they meet, or was it too soon? Spurred on by the sugary icing she’d just eaten, she sent him a text.

(You could ask Maddie and she would say I was flopping around like a dead fish.) I know I sound frenetic, but I can’t help it, and I know that I shouldn’t. When he walked off, he said- ‘I don’t know what your problem is… you don’t own me.’ (Like in my mind before this party, I thought he owned me and was going to be my soulmate or something like that. Maybe I have been too clingy?) And there is Marcel in the background shyly obsessing over me. I would never in a million years go out with someone like Marcel. At that moment within that thought, I look up at Ray walking up the staircase and say the same thing. Wow- how a million years can just fly by, in a girl's mind. I would reconsider whether Marcel seems safe, easy, not my type that I've been going for but I suppose he could be? Should I have... let him in tonight, when I had the chance? Maybe I should wait… there's always tomorrow. #- Hashtag: (Smackdown, it’s going down, and feeling down)

That was just one of many weird things we have done. Even weirder to me than that, was the fact that we all talked about- like how it would be for one of us to die… if we would. Sex, drinking, and death were the main topics most nights. Yet that nightfall I do not remember how it came up in the conversations, other than Kenneth complaining that I got to sit in the front seat- aka ‘shotgun’ with Jenny after the party I guess I was where he thought he should be, and you know that wearing a seatbelt is for pussies. I do remember us talking about what a bucket let would be, yet to me, I thought mine was almost complete. The rap music was so loud, that we were yelling at one other just to overhear. Jenny kept going through her I-phone to change the song and text her other friends and boys, her phone was in her right hand in her lap. One reason I sat there is that- I was the one that was meant to pick the music so she could drive. I remember hearing the lyric- ‘To the window to the walls…’ the song was ‘Get Low!’ However, Jenny was so high, and Maddie was singing in the back to the words making her hands go in-between the front seats, and that was comical because she is as white as they come. I remember that is when we started shouting our theory on death and the afterlife, or if there is one. I thought there was… yet I was not sure. We were all gathering what those would be. Jenny was bitching about how it could be and going to be, in the ground, and like her beautiful body is going to be eaten away overtime in her sealed casket. That made my skin crawl. We were all like you’re going to die you’re not going to feel anything dumb ass. Then Maddie said my dying wish is to hook up with Lizzy, Sam, and others all at the same time and never stop. Hey, why not they were both very sexy hot girls. I could see that fantasy of doing it until death. I was a little pissed that I was not one of the girls in that scenario but it's her death wish not mine. Yet this is kind of surprising to me because Maddie was never that way at all. Like she has a boyfriend of two years. However, their love life was always on again and off again. The makeup hookups are all that kept them together… I think...? (#- Hashtag: Wcw- Women crush Wednesday)

Awkward- everyone looks at you when you do that. But only she can get away with that messy hair and what looks to be hairy legs, Maddie will do anything for a chortle. I mean come on shower girl at least. The teacher even asked, and she said: ‘Hitech- I was out all night banging my boy, and I have a raging hangover, so can we get this crap over.’ He said yes, take your test, and a smart mouth to the office. She shuffles her bunnies to his desk, rips the papers out of his hands, will give him the middle finger, and you know the one that you’re not supposed to use in public. As she trips out the door. We all clapped and wooed! That’s when I got it, she has a secret relationship too. Yet does Jenny know, and how is that okay when she just likes me? The point is we can do things we like to do because we're popular and have it all. Up till now… we can only have and like what Jenny says is okay, so really- I can’t do what I want. Mine popularly is not that strong even to this day it could change at any moment with her say. Maybe I had more before I was popular. Like- I have to only like what the popular girls like, and only do things that popular girls do. I had to leave my past self behind. I can try to sneak around with my unpopular dream boy, yet she will find out, and if she does, will I be out of the click? I don’t know, I love my girls, yet do I love him more to give that all up and go back to that girl that has nothing. Or would I have something with him… now that I didn’t before. Do I have to fall back or keep falling apart? I just don’t know! I can get away with just about anything, yet I feel like I have nothing. I have awesome girlfriends; however, I feel so empty. I don’t feel like Karly anymore, Karly, was gone the day I was forced out of my virginity by Jenny at a drunken party. Though she blames me, because I wanted to be popular, Jenny said that was the only way if I was going to be like her and her girls. So, I did it. Ugh- maybe Maddie is now out of the click, and not caring anymore maybe that's why she looks like that? What should I do, what can I do? (#- hashtag: kiss and tell, misperception misfits, and yacking trash talk)

She looks up at me with misty eyes. ‘Talking of boys- are you eager about tonight?’ ‘About what?’ I say acting like I don't know what is going to go down, or don’t even know what she’s talking about. I play dumb! Her words are all running past me, faster than how she drives, everything is distorted together. Jenny always talks like that when she gets upset. Her words go into overdrive. I’m holding on to the bedpost, trying not to fall over, or on top of Jenny, I would love to sit down yet, Jenny is hogging up my single bed. She said- ‘I think you should back up with Ray or do him already.’ She throws me a condom from her purse. I said- ‘Who do you think would be my type then?’ ‘You, Marcel, some worm Bud Lite, and his Star Wars sheets. OMG that would be perfect and she giggles. ‘How romantic,’ she shouted. Though, I was thinking OMG Jenny you’re always right. Like it would be so romantic, yet little did she know I felt that way, already… I never realized how much of a weirdo I am. I have fallen to a complete nerd, on the outside, I have completely changed, but on the inside, I am one too! We all try to be something we're not in high school, even Jenny has everyone fooled. Nevertheless, the ones that seem the most put together are the ones that are falling apart the most. No one’s life is as good as it seems, and it’s even worse when you’re like Jull’s and Madilyn that have us throwing crap in their faces. I stand here feeling like such an ass hole, not even hearing what Jenny is rambling on about, because it’s nonsense, compared to what I have done in my thoughts. -White teeth teens are out- #- Hashtag: (unperfect girls, the charmed life, we want real love) I go pee one last time, and Jenny flows me in the bathroom and sits on the edge of the tube looking at me as I go. Then after I got up, she went, I was thinking like we didn’t need to do this together, yet how Jenny is we have to do everything together. That is when my sis walks into my room and says- ‘I have to Ba-bath Karly, would I get my stuff Re-ready and help me take a bath?’ I try to close the door saying get mom to bath you, but she wedges her hand in at the last minute and pushes into the bathroom.

couldn’t get warm. She wore thermal underwear and had one of those puffy jackets that made her look like a snowman, but it seemed nothing could defrost her bones. She blew warm air into her hands as she waited

I've never done this before." The strain in his words was undeniable. It didn't ease any of my disruptive feelings. "I've never been in a relationship. I've never been in love." "You're my first love too." He made a sound, a cross between a groan and a growl, and cupped my face to stare at me intently. "You're not my first, Ivy. You're my only. There's never gonna be another you.

Simple Ways To Harness The Power Of Tiktok For Business Success In 2020, social media has been empowered in the world of digital marketing. TikTok is one of the traditional video-sharing platforms, for all the individual and business accounts use this platform to entertain people. TikTok gives you an amazing way to share your posts with your audience and get more visibility to your website. Make sure you can only post your video through reactions. TikTok allows you to share 15-second videos with a variety of topics. It gives different songs with filters to shoot your video directly from your mobile device. But many also struggle to exactly use TikTok for business purposes. Here are some simple ways to harness the power of TikTok for business success. TikTok On Business TikTok is a great opportunity to start your business, promote your brand, and create a connection with your audience and brand by using engaging videos. It is one of the most popular social media in the world because it connects with a wider audience. Under this updated world, everything is changed into online marketing and purchasing. This is the big advantage to start your business with this social media. TikTok is relative to a younger audience, so you should target teens and promote your brand relevant to their needs and interest to get better positive results. Create Engaging Contents TikTok is only a place to make fun and creativity. TikTok short-form videos easily capture the audience's attention because of the entertaining nature. It gives the big opportunity to create your content that focuses more on the fun and entertaining to connect the wider audience. So, you don’t need to feel the pressure of creating your content. You can simply make your video with an effective background and showing your product. But your main goal is to keep managing your product offers. Get More Influencers There are lots of ways to take advantage of the platform to promote your brand. One easy way to advertise your products on TikTok via influencers. You need to find the right influencer to develop your business. If you grow your TikTok likes, you can improve your brand identity and get more profit. Also, you can analyze which kind of products you offer to get the best and positive results. If you share more videos whether or not they are relevant to your industry, you can change to become a good influencer. But, you need to post your stories frequently. Promote Hashtag Challenges If you add your branded hashtag with your video, you can get more visibility in your audience. A hashtag challenge is one of the effective ways to reach your targeted audience to talk about your business. The main goal of the hashtag challenge is to encourage your audience and create a brand identity. Most of the users love to participate in these challenges. TikTok Growth TikTok is undoubtedly a powerful social media tool with billions of followers sharing their expressions every day. This is a new platform compared to other social media networks, but it contains large competitors. It is worth spending your time developing for the benefit of your business.

In my opinion, that’s way too many plot devices and completely unnecessary.” “Genre. Trope. Plot devices. Who are you?” I smirk, knowing I’ve just wet her panties a little with my knowledge of literary terms. “I love reading—what can I say? Just a big old book nerd. Hashtag book lover.” I stuff more food in my mouth, chewing slowly, so as to drive her wild with suspense.

Love chose us. Even though we weren’t young college students anymore, even though we had jobs, family, and responsibilities, we were still the same. Deep down inside us, we were all still the same. We just loved deeper. Bonded tighter. And knew exactly where we belonged. Our life wasn’t over. It was just beginning. And it was going to be one fucking beautiful ride.