I’m captivated by the way that I can look into her eyes and she doesn’t have to say anything at all. My minds lost in her smile to the point that she is the only thing that exists and I can’t find my way out. I don’t want to give in to her, I promised myself I wouldn’t give in to her. I don’t want to be her number one. Number one means there’s a number two and that means there’s a number three. And maybe I’m selfish, but I wanna be the only one. When she was next to me that night I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t speak the words I wanted to say. I held my hands behind my back so I wouldn’t get carried away. I couldn’t touch her without ruining her, so I didn’t touch her at all. Trying to resist her is like fighting with my withdrawal. But lately I’ve been thinking that it might be easier just to jump and take the fall.

Maybe it’s better to say everything than to say nothing at all.

How scorpio sees the signs
  • Aries:ur scary as hell... but i like it
  • Taurus:me but less hot?
  • Gemini:bla bla bla... stop talking if you have nothing to say
  • Cancer:bae let's watch movies and CRY
  • Leo:calm down not everyone needs to love you
  • Virgo:ayy i adore you but you're so goddamn critical i came out to have a good time and i'm honestly feeling so attacked right now
  • Scorpio:i love you or hate you but either way LET'S HAVE SEX
  • Sagittarius:i like your humour but damn YOU ARE RUDE???
  • Capricorn:cutie pie whom i am SO jealous of wtf
  • Pisces:let's runaway together and talk about feelings. be mine?

I read preferences and imagines about One Direction all the time..
And it drives me NUTS.. Absolutely NUTS when I read those preferences “he cheats on you” or “you catch him cheating” and there always a second part to them where you forgive him…
And honestly even if I got the chance of a lifetime to be with one of the boys, if any one of them cheated on me, there is no way I would forgive him, or get back together with him.
It just drives me crazy how girls think that just because of who he his, that it is always to think you would forgive someone to breaking your trust, going behind your back and making you feel like you are not worthy to have his fully devoted attention.
LADIES: never forgive a man who cheats on you, because no matter how much he says it was a mistake and he didn’t mean it, there was a moment in his mind that you were not enough for him. And no woman should ever feel like that when in a relationship.

But I mean hey… That’s just me..


This is a short horror fic. No major warnings.


Maybe Tony has a problem. Yeah, there’s definitely something wrong with him.

Because he’s standing here in front of a spitting-mad God, the alarms are blaring, someone’s banging on the door like that will help, and he’s practically naked. That sounds like a problem.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

deaf!mickey starts to teach ian sign language so they can communicate better and ian always uses it to talk dirty to mickey or talk shit to mickey about other people behind their backs and mickey always just smiles and thinks 'what did i do'

okay but first of all: imagine them sitting cross-legged across from each other on mickey’s bed at night, while mickey tries to teach him ASL. mickey keeps reaching over to grab ian’s wrist and help him make the motions better or fix his finger orientation, and ian blushes like a fucking idiot every time he does.

second of all: imagine that ian is like…not super great at picking up ASL. and he kind of keeps messing up signs, so even though he made mickey teach him all the dirty ones a few weeks back, he’s still getting the hang of them and instead of telling mickey he wants to fuck him so hard later that his throat’s raw from screaming and he walks funny for days, he ends up signing something completely ridiculous and mickey has to stifle his laughter and pretend to take him seriously but he spends most of their dirty signing just thinking about what a fucking dork ian is (and how much he loves him anyway).


Here’s a poem for the girls who don’t like sitting at home curled with a book on a Saturday night.

Here’s a poem for the girls who are demonized for flirting to get free shots, and adore wearing short shorts and mini skirts.

Here’s a poem for girls who aren’t afraid to be called a bitch but sleep uneasily at night because as hard as she tries not to, she cares what people talk about her behind her back.

Here’s a poem for girls who simple-minded guys don’t consider worthy enough for a serious relationship because of her tallies on the bed post.

Here’s a poem for the girls who are never the main characters in movies with mousy girls with holier than thou attitudes who declare “I’m not like the other girls” as if the other girls aren’t worthy of a voice.

Here’s a poem for girls who are always type-casted as the mean girl, the bully, and the antagonistic rival–anti-heroines at best.

Here’s a poem for the girls who are conventionally breathtakingly beautiful, and not in the adorable ways all those YA narrators are.

You’ve got a great figure, shiny long hair, and a face with the perfect golden ratio. You’re more than an intimidating bully, you’re more than a goddess of curves to be worshipped just because men like your body. You’re as much of a person as that sweet virgin girl.

Fuck anyone who tells you that you’re not the main character just because you like to party, you like to drink, and you make questionable choices society frown upon. You can’t help that you’re beautiful with an attitude.

—  A poem for all the dark queens out there who are never the lead (C.W.)

man dog grooming is so important to how I look at dogs like a maltese with short hair??

like that dog looks very welcoming I could tell that dog about my day

but I’m like 99% sure a long haired maltese is talkin shit about my clothes behind my back and spreading rumors about my mom

Just a reminder

1) Never compare your problems to others. Some have big problems, some have small but that doesn’t matter. It’s about how you react and how you handle those problems. It’s not about how much weight you’re carrying, it’s about how you carry it.
2) If your self esteem is low tell yourself everyday that you’re beautiful and special, that there’s a reason for you here. Even if you may not believe it in the start and even if you don’t think it’s true, do it. Because you’ll eventually end up believing it in the end.
3) Don’t care about people talking negatively about you behind your back and don’t care about what everyone else thinks. No one goes around thinking about everyone elses flaws or the embarassing thing you did last month. Everyone has their own problems to care about and they don’t think about yours. And in a couple of years none of it will matter. Everyone is busy caring about themselves and their own lives.
4) If you hate something about yourself, change it. If you hate your acne, your body or even your personality start using a bit make up if you want to or change it up, don’t over do it, just until you feel good. Don’t feel like you need to impress someone, do it if you feel good in it. I’m not trying to put any pressure on any of you but if you don’t like your body go and jog around your neighboorhood everyday, eat a bit healthier or if you want to gain weight eat whatever you want to, try eating more often and bigger portions. Go and search up some youtube videos on how to get fit if you really want to get fit. Remember that progress is progress no matter how big. And another reminder! You don’t need to do this if you don’t want to, there’s nothing wrong with having curves or being a bit skinny. Everyone is beautiful no matter what.

Remember that you can do everything if you decide to do it. If there’s any other problems than those listed above, try to ignore them. I know it’s easier said that done but progress isn’t meant to be seen in a day. Try baby steps, find something that can keep you distracted, find something you love and then do what you love and simply just love what you do. You are strong and even if you feel like nobody believes in you, go and show them. (I believe in you all) Remember that you can always talk to me, I’m just a message away and I’ll try my best to answer you all. (Tell me if you want me to answer you privately). I love you all!

This has been one of the most beautiful weekends of my life.

Saturday: I spent the day being primed for the stage, before dancing for 650 people. I was flawless under the bright lights – smiling, glittering, swathed in black. It was truly an honour to do what I love on a large scale, and I couldn’t have possibly felt more comfortable. Being watched excites me like nothing else.

Sunday: My pretty friend and I were taken to a pine plantation and tied in various positions – side by side, on top of each other, hands behind our backs. The forrest floor was soft and prickly underneath our naked bodies. As I watched my friend’s partner bend and bind her body, I couldn’t help but imagine them together in the bedroom… The way he touched her was commanding, tender, beautiful. My heart ached a little and I’ll never forget it. The photos of us are to be published in a book.

Eastern Congo grapples with mental health catastrophe after years of war

Study finds that after decades of brutality half of eastern DRC’s adults suffer post-traumatic disorder and a fifth thought of suicide

The psychiatrist demonstrates how to treat a new patient. “First, we tie them up using these,” he says, speaking in Beni at one of two mental healthcare facilities in the Great North, eastern Congo.

He pulls out a bundle of rope and chains. Most of the patients in his clinic bear the scars of their treatment. John, 19, sits with raw, red rings at his elbows and ankles where his family bound him before bringing him here. He recalls not sleeping for days owing to the discomfort of having his elbows tied behind his back. John, who is suffering trauma following a spate of kidnappings, is not a rare case. “Most arrive bound,” the psychiatrist says.

Nzenze is a different case. He sits on a lump of volcanic rock outside a church in Goma and beats himself repeatedly. After his father was killed in the first Congo war, Nzenze spent one night talking nonsense and has spoken only once since. He was good at school, his mother says. He spoke last year, when she wanted to use his old exam papers to light a fire. “He cried out and stopped me.”

Displaced this year for the fourth time, he camps on the edge of a slum, taking prescription sedatives every night and sleeping on lumps of volcanic rock. “He’s getting worse,” his mother says, as Nzenze rhythmically punches his arm.

Twenty years after conflict broke out in eastern Congo, the unspeakable acts of brutality – mostly indiscriminate slaughter and widespread rape – have been regularly documented. Less well known is the mental health catastrophe that a generation of violence has visited on these people. Ddisplacement, forced recruitment, poverty and sexual violence have contributed to a mental health crisis.

“Nobody really knows what to do,” says Lynn Lawry, a Harvard academic behind one of the few qualitative surveys of human rights abuses in the east.

Lawry’s 2010 study found that half of adults meet the criteria for post-traumatic stress disorder, while one in five had considered killing themselves within the preceding year. “When you extrapolate out the numbers you’re looking at millions,” Lawry says.

National healthcare structures are weak. Goma is the capital of North Kivu province and one of the country’s largest cities. At Goma’s sole mental health facility, staff cut new arrivals from their shackles with a hacksaw. Brother William, the administrator at the Catholic-run centre, said every patient, no matter what his or her state, is relatively lucky. Les fous, meaning the mad ones, are often left chained in their homes when their families flee, leaving the rebels to shoot them dead, or worse. More than 60% of patients in the Goma centre are there because of the war. William said they had the physical capacity for more, but not the financing.

Here in Congo, a country with the land mass of western Europe and a population of 68 million, there is one mental health outpatient facility and six mental hospitals, according to the World Health Organisation. There is no national prevalence data and only 40 or so psychiatric doctors, nearly all of whom are in the capital.

In the Munzenze central prison in Goma, an elderly man introduces himself as Colonel Alphonso. He was once a police colonel, he says, but today is spearheading a political movement. The colonel wears a wedding dress. In the chaotic prison enclosure, he holds up a black bomber jacket. Written in white paint on the back is M29. “The movement for defending the rights of minorities,” he says, a tragic pastiche of the guerrilla group M23, which emerged over the past two years as the latest challenge to the Congolese government and is only now close to defeat.

Alphonso and three other mentally ill inmates sleep four to a single mattress alongside rebels, petty criminals and sexual offenders because there is nowhere else for them to go, a prison official says.

Mental health initiatives by non-governmental organisations such as the International Rescue Committee target survivors of sexual violence. “[The problem] is too big. You can’t address it, but you can address specific areas,” explains a senior humanitarian adviser.

Asked what provision of care there is for young men traumatised by violence or displacement, he shrugs. “Even if you had places to refer these guys, personally I’d prefer that they stay in their family.” Psychiatric disorders require trained staff and medicines. “There is no capacity to deal with it,” he says.

In the Goma mental health clinic, a tall woman greets visitors. Eyes half closed, she emits a low, wavering cry. The skin on her neck and chest is marked with scars where traditional medical practitioners have scored it to insert plant extracts. Many Congolese people consider mental illness as a spiritual problem; belief in witchcraft is widespread. A former rebel who uses a pseudonym, Colonel Mama, said ex-combatants emerge scarred from the invasive treatments of witch doctors. She recalls smoking marijuana every day to ward off the cold. “Many women lost their minds.”

Lawry said there was no need for more research into the prevalence of mental illness. “We know it’s really prevalent. We need to come up with more programmes that work,” she said.

The senior humanitarian adviser in Goma raises his palms to the sky: “What can we do?” The challenge is to stop people dying, he says.

“The first problem is security and protection. If you solve this, you’ll have a direct impact on mental health.”

We need to stop hating on girls who sleep with married men. Those men were going to sleep with someone regardless. They weren't "seduced". Aint nobody make them whip out their dick behind their partner's back. Why does everyone blame the person someone cheated with and not the cheater?

anonymous asked:

Fili and kili coaxing thorin into lingerie as an anniversary present for bilbo because his other ones were kinda lame

“I do not know if Bilbo will like this.” Thorin is hesitant as he looks at himself in the mirror. Tight black lace is stretching over his thighs, thick hair sticking out from the gaps. 

“Oh he will love it.” Kili states as he smiles his ‘this-is-why-I-get-whatever-I-want-smile’.

“It’s a part of a hobbit tradiiton. Didn’t Bilbo tell you?” Fili asks as he hands a matching black lace brazier to Thorin. 

Thorin looks at it questioningly. He holds the garment up, staring at it curiously. “Isn’t this for females?”

“Oh, not in hobbit culture. It is customary on the first anniversary that both members in the….uhhh marriage, wear these.” Fili snaps the clasp on the back for Thorin as he grins at Kili behind Thorin’s back. 

“Just keep it on under your clothes and tonight when you go into the bedroom, make sure to undress slowly.” Kili puts an emphasis on the last word as Thorin starts dressing. 

“Bilbo will be so pleased you’re learning about his culture. You’re such a good husband.” Fili patsThorin on the back as him and Kili make their way out of the room.


Thorin lays Bilbo down on their bed, whispering in his ear. “I want you to watch, and I want you to know that I thought about this all day.” Bilbo shivers as Thorin pulls away from him. He watches as Thorin starts slowly undressing, his hands fumbling on his buckle and on the lacing on his trousers. 

Bilbo watches with curiosity as Thorin begins removing each item one by one. Bilbo starts growing impatient at he waits to see his husband in all his naked glory.

I will never understand why he wears so many layers. As the tunic hits the floor, Bilbo’s eyes go wide. Standing before him is his husband in the tightest piece of lace Bilbo has ever seen.

“Are you wearing a tea doily?!” Bilbo shouts as he sits up quickly.

“A tea doily?! No! I’m wearing traditional hobbit consummating clothing!” Thorin shouts back as his hands reach to cover his front. 

“That is not traditional anything! We don’t have consummating clothing!” Bilbo falls off the bed as he roars with laughter. 

Thorin turns red, a blush spreading up his chest and to his cheeks as he grabs one of the blankets off of the bed, attempting to cover himself. 

Bilbo tries to push down the laughter realizing his husbands embarrassment. He stands on his tiptoes and kisses Thorin’s lip. “I don’t know why you listen to anything your nephews say.”

Now I Know

This is an entry for askbroodyelf’s comic contest. I decided to write as if it already was a comic, describing some [pictures] that might help convey the story. Obviously only the bolded text would show up in the final comic :) Thanks for a fun contest, broody!

[Older Hawke, a bit of gray in his beard, and Fenris w/ longer hair; Hawke is taking off Fenris’ top from behind, Fenris looking back at him over his shoulder]

No matter how much time passes, some things always stay the same. 

[Side view, shoulders up, of Hawke and Fenris - normal DA2 age. They’re in bed, Hawke on top, kissing Fenris’ shoulder, eyes closed. Fenris is staring up at the ceiling, hand on Hawke’s shoulder, white knuckled]

I had no idea, that first time we were together. 

[A triptych: 1) simple silhouette of older Hawke/Fenris (longer hair) facing each other in bed. 2) a tattooed hand resting on tanned abdomen 3) Fenris’ downcast gaze]

But now I can tell - when his touches slow down, when his eyes go distant. 

[Horrified looking Fenris, DA2 age, sitting up in bed in a cold sweat]

I used to wonder why he was so afraid of remembering. 

[Young Leto’s upper body, face horrified, arms in the air to shield himself, and the shadow of a whip cast over him]

The story came out piece by piece, 

[a needle-like instrument infusing lyrium into Fenris’ neck - his head thrown back in an agonized scream]

year after year, 

[Shoulders up view of Denarius and Fenris, neither showing signs of clothes; Denarius looking down at Fenris, dark, hungry, nails imprinting in the skin on the back of Fenris neck; Fenris hopeless, defeated, resigned]

in horrified whispers where there should have been tender sighs. 

[Older Hawke and Fenris, foreheads touching, eyes closed]

Now I know. 

[Eyes open]

It’s just part of loving him. 

[Hawke’s lips on a tattooed cheek]

Realizing that even in our most private moments, 

[Hawke’s hand on a tattooed hip]

no matter how much time passes,

[The opening shot again, except this time Denarius’ shadow is there, his hand on the elf’s neck, fingers imprinting in the skin]

we’re never truly alone.