Angels in the 21st Century

She didn’t have white, feathered wings like all the pictures
and books made us believe. Her halo was a velvet, banal thing
that circled her neck, which either itches or chokes her.
And she had talons painted so dark, you’d be able to see

your bewildered expression looking back at you. Everyone saw
her. She wasn’t like some saint who only materialised in front
of one man in the mountains who had just committed one heinous
crime and was probably drunk and about to jump off a cliff.

Everyone saw her with a smug look on her face. Everyone saw
her reading a book cross-legged in the park, her hair blowing
in the wind. Everyone saw her drinking cheap coffee in a
local diner at three in the afternoon. She was new in town

and the people from a couple of floors down say she’s a run-
away. No one knows where she came from and where she’s
intending to go. No one asked questions. A week later, she
was standing in front of my class, teaching history. We read

about wars and oppressive rulers. And I found myself watching
the evening news more often. Cutlery clattered in the air while
just an ocean away, there was only gunshot. And cigarette
smoke stopped bothering me, when I started hearing bombs

dropping in my sleep and smoke’s coming from the fire a
block away that’s devouring the very building where I used to
press my forehead to its dusty floor. When she asked us to
write a ten-page essay on what good violence and war brings,

I submitted a ten-page essay that said nothing over and over
again. She wasn’t a mirage clothed in light. She couldn’t even
play one instrument. A week after that, no one saw her in town
again. Sometimes, I like to think that she has finally found what
she was searching for. Other times, I picture a bullet to her head.

—request

5

First half of the doodles done tonight on livestream! Thank you SO MUCH everyone who sent in doodles!! THEY’RE ALL SO NICE. I’ll spend tomorrow working on the rest!

For now (unless you talked to me) art trades are officially closed.

I’ve loveedd everyone’s drawings, even (especially) the wrong-handed/blindfolded ones. A lot of the requests also made me laugh. It’s been so cool talking and getting to know some of you! You’re all super sweet.

65pinkroses, fanpro1003, mckayfelt,
belle-woods, mollfairhurst, stitchworks
pandakong, skejet, miss-sundance
alexas-adventures, mistdeer ,theevilteaspoon
chimeradeimos, ryu-no-musuko, aarlert

you think of this as a milestone, as a huge part of your life that you’d look back on once you’re old and grey and bedridden. but it’s not. it won’t really matter. you’ll be with the same people you don’t necessarily hate, but don’t like either. you’ll meet people you’d learn to hate. it’s sad because school’s becoming more synonymous to social life than education. but this not really mattering once you’re old and grey and bedridden doesn’t really matter to you right now. because there’s only your knees buckling right now, heart thumping, mind racing. your senses are heightened and everything seems zoomed in. so burn that magnifying glass and look at the bigger picture.
—  MJLno one hears quickened breaths in this loud world (request)
2

'I've got the snitch!' he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

'He didn't catch it! He nearly swallowed it,' Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference-Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results-Gryffindor had won by 170 points to 60.

Every night, there’s only me, the bathroom mirror, and shallow breaths that I have to constantly run a forearm over my reflection to keep it from drowning. Miles away, other seventeen-year old girls are burrowing their faces into pillows while I burrow mine in more layers of foundation. Miles much farther away, seventeen-year old girls are waking up from a good night’s sleep, getting ready for school while I slather more red on my lips, getting ready for trembling thighs and dirty looks catapulted my way. The doctor told me that no amount of makeup would be sufficient enough to cover up my kind of decay. And my kind of decay comes with a watered-down hourglass that counts years instead.

There’s only strangers now and from them, I’ve learnt that letting go isn’t such a hard thing after all. Sometimes I pass by them in the daylight and they refuse to look me in the eye. Most of them have sons on their shoulders, a wife just an arm’s length away, and I imagine them coming home to a roof above their heads just to sneak out the back door past midnight. And then there are people I used to know. These were the kind that was much harder to let go of. Sometimes I see them with sons on their shoulders, a wife just an arm’s length away and I can’t help but wonder if they sneak out the back door past midnight. They never recognise me, of course. That’s when I understood what homeless people might feel like, maybe even like rabid dogs that prowl the streets rummaging through other people’s waste. To them, people like us are merely a part of their morning jog scenery, best left in the rearview mirror. Only on the occasion that they don’t run a red light do they notice us and ponder why life is such a cruel thing. And when they step on the gas, we are reduced back to rearview mirror mountaintops.

I’m not blaming them for living their lives however much I sound like I am. But sometimes they ask questions and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t mind. Because I want to know what it’s like to not be called a woman again. I want to know what it’s like to be a girl and wear makeup for myself, not for the satisfaction of men who see me as something more than their wives and much less than a pound of ground meat in the market because they don’t see the blood, they don’t see what happens behind the curtains. And I’m glad they don’t.

Because I don’t think they’d be able to go on living and still call it a life, the way I do. I have always been the last in line, the one everyone cuts through so they don’t have to wait. The doctor told me it won’t take any longer now. But I’m tired of waiting.

—request

rosietwiggs said:

Prompt request: Oliver high as FUCK waxing poetic over Felicity's hair.

"You know something, Dig?" 

"Mm?"

"I mean, you want to really know something?” 

"Sure, man, you’re going to tell me an…"

"Felicity’s the best." 

"Ah. There we have it." 

"She’s smart. Do you know she has a ge.. gen… fucking IP or some shit that’s like a gazillion points higher than everybody else?" 

"Yes." 

"And her skin man, you have got to feel that some time it’s like silk, you know what I mean? Like silk. The actual stuff. That worms make. Worms make silk. That’s something I don’t think about often.” 

"I can’t honestly say I devote that much time to it, either, Oliver." 

"But you know what the best is?" 

"Nope. Enlighten me."

"Her hair. It’s like … miles long and thick and gorgeous. I wonder what it looks like when she doesn’t dye it. She dyes it, don’t you know? I’ve been watching her roots, I think they’re dark. I like it golden though, don’t you?” 

"Sure." 

"I think she should wear it down more. Round her shoulders. Maybe she’d let me put my fingers in it. I wonder if I could put my fingers in it if I kissed her." 

"Whoa buddy. We agreed: no kissing." 

"I know. Just saying. I’ll bet it’s soft. There’s got to be a cor… cor… fuck. I never passed fucking math. There’s got to be a connection between how soft her skin is and how soft her hair is, you think?"

"Mm."

"I’ll bet her hair is really, really soft. I’ll bet it looks good spread over a pillow. Or… how do you think she does those fancy hairstyles by herself? Do women have an extra set of arms?" 

The car door wrenched open. Oliver looked up and beamed. The woman he loved was standing over him, looking very concerned. “FELICITY! You have pretty hair!” and then he fell over, unconscious.

#190 - Victoria's Secret. (Request)

Michael - It was that time again, the time to go shopping for new underwear. Of course all of your friends had other plans, so you had to bring Michael along with you, which always ended with him whining to go back to the food court or to go back to the hotel. He lagged behind you, carrying two of your bags as you sighed, stepping closer to Victoria’s Secret. “This is my last store. You can wait outside if you want.” You said, smiling at him as you walked inside. You didn’t want to wait around for his answer as you went straight to the underwear section. As you were looking for a size, you felt a tap on your shoulder. “I think this is what you need.” Your eyes widened at his selection, a red lacy bra and very cheeky pair of underwear. “Michael, why would I need that?” He sighed and looked at the set again, shuffling his feet. “To walk around the hotel in one day maybe?” He smiled like a little kid as you rolled your eyes, shaking your head at your childish boyfriend. “If I buy these will you let me shop?” He nodded and smiled as you snatched the items away from him, a shout of joy coming from his lips as he clapped like an idiot.

Luke - You and Luke held hands as you two strolled around the mall, sipping on your drinks as you talked about any and everything. You gasped as Victoria’s Secret came into view, reminding you that you needed a couple new bras. “Baby can I go in this store?” You asked, looking up at him as he nodded and smirked. “Only if I can come with?” You giggled and nodded, leading him in as you sighed looking around the huge store. “I’m going to go over here.” He said, nodding to the other side as you nodded, taking off in the other direction. You began searching for your size, not deciding on which color you wanted. Just as you picked one out, Luke skipped back over, hiding something behind his back. “What are you hiding?” You asked, giggling as he chuckled, pulling out a pink and black, see through night gown. You blushed and shook your head. “Now way am I wearing that.” You shook your head as he sighed. “Oh come on, just once? At least try it on for me.” You rolled your eyes, and snatched it away from him. “Just this once.” He clapped like a kid, following you to the dressing room, a triumphant smile on his face.

Ashton - ”Mommy I want ice cream!” Your mom giggled at you as Ashton talked on the phone, lagging behind. “Maybe grandma will take you all to get some?” You looked up and saw Victoria’s Secret ahead of you and you knew you had to go in there and buy something. Yours and Ashton’s anniversary was coming up and you wanted to do something special for him, even if that did mean shipping the kids off to grandmas and throwing on some lingerie for one night. “Mom I need to go in there,” You pointed to the store as she giggled again, nodding, sending you a wink. “Come on kids, last one to the ice cream shop gets no sprinkles!” You watched as they all took off Ashton’s eyes on you as you traveled to the store. Once inside you sighed to yourself, walking straight to the lingerie section. After selecting two different types and two different colors, you ventured off to the dressing room. Once inside you stripped down, trying on the first one and smiling to yourself. “He would love this.” You whispered, ruffling your hair and giggling. As soon as you were about to try on the next one, the door opened, a gasp flying from your lips as Ashton put his finger to his mouth. “What are you doing in here?” “I was looking for you and i’m glad I found you.” You sighed and tried covering yourself. “I was trying to find something for our anniversary this weekend and surprise you.” Ashton smirked, checking out your ass in the mirror as he backed you into it, his hands roaming your body. “I say we celebrate early.”

Calum - ”Baby just pick something. I’m getting hungry.” You rolled your eyes, continuing to dig through the huge pile of underwear as he stood against the wall, fiddling with his sunglasses that sat on his shirt. “Do you think it’s easy to shop for cute underwear?” He shrugged and chuckled, “I only wear blues and blacks.” You rolled your eyes and grabbed another pair as he went in the other direction, you guessed going to look at things for himself. You smirked, and went quickly to the lingerie section, grabbing one of the baby doll slips you had been eyeing online and darting to the dressing room, shutting the door and immediately stripping down, putting the lingerie on. You turned 360, smirking to yourself as you heard footsteps coming towards you. “Y/N, you back here?” You opened the door, seeing Calum sitting in one of the chairs, his eyes widening. “You like?” You did another 360, as he shook his head. “How did I ever get so lucky?” You held out your hand as he grabbed it. “Come find out.” You pulled him in, shutting the door as he chuckled.

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