Brown Skin Gorwl

‘Oh girl c’mon it’ll be fun!’ Betty exclaimed as she tugged Regina’s hands, pulling her in the direction of the pub that was booming with country music, soldiers in uniform lingering about.

‘Betty!’ She snatched her hand away, watching Betty stumble before once again gaining her footing. ‘Girl, my daddy is in the service! What if someone saw me in there!’ She whined out.

Her small friend pursed her lips together hard, dusting off her polka dotted dress in frustration and running her slender fingers through her freshly done candy curls.

‘Your daddy-‘ she said the words with bitterness. ‘Ain’t here.’ She let out a loud sigh and placed her hands on her hips, ‘Look. I know you’ve been under the weather since the death of your fiancé and—‘

Another great piece of literature from wifey. Proud of your work always babe.

Oh baby 😩🥹💓 YALL?! Meet the man that helps me come up with these insane ideas! lol Thank you my big papa. You’re my number one supporter.

I love you 💕

EVERY DIRECT ANCESTOR OF DAENERYS TARGARYEN: Aegon the Conqueror

Aegon Targaryen himself, strangely, was as much an enigma to his contemporaries as to us. Armed with the Valyrian steel blade Blackfyre, he was counted amongst the greatest warriors of his age, yet he took no pleasure in feats of arms, and never rode in tourney or melee. His mount was Balerion the Black Dread, but he flew only to battle or to travel swiftly across land and sea. His commanding presence drew men to his banners, yet he had no close friends, save Orys Baratheon, the companion of his youth. Women were drawn to him, but Aegon remained ever faithful to his sisters. As king, he put great trust in his small council and his sisters, leaving much of the day-to-day governance of the realm to them…yet did not hesitate to take command when he found it necessary. Though he dealt harshly with rebels and traitors, he was open-handed with former foes who bent the knee.

Yall ate this shit up 😩🤩

y’all be like “wlw” and it be white loving white.

Maaaan 🤣🤣🤣

Bofl DUTY?! “The few. The proud. The marines.” 🤣🤣🤣

this is just loser behavior, but i bet they can’t say none of this off anon? anyway, aisha go back to planning your beautiful pretty pink bday party!

You right and this meme is sending me 😭 can I show you some outfits I have in mind?

man I stg these anons are so damn pathetic. Like why be pussy all ya life? 😂

Bofllll that “Turn around and diiiiiie.” Fucking sent me okay?! I swear they be so goddamn mad behind them anon stickers bro. Like the truth shall set chu free! Stop being pussy and say it with ya chest bb.

Title: Wounded

Part I  Part II

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Reader

Warnings: Scars, past violence, trauma, past accidents (for sy and reader)

Summary: You sit and ponder after your conversation with the captain.

Word count:  1.3K

Author Note: This was meant to be a drabble but now it has 3 parts, oops! not beta’d we die like me everytime Syverson comes on screen.

You’d spent a few long moments thinking hard about what Syverson had told you and eventually you began to feel the anxiety being replaced by the excileration that seeped into your veins. You were excited at the concept of being free and not caring what other people thought. You found yourself smiling properly for the first time in what felt like years. 

With a trembling breath you stood up from your seat and collected your belongings before walking back into the house and ascending up the stairs to your bedroom. When you opened your suit case it was the first item on the top of the pile. A red bikini lay there like a big red button that says “do not press”, but you of course always had to press the big red button. So you did. With shakey fingers you lifted the bikini from the suit case and stood in front of the mirror, holding the costume out in front of your clothed body. You had been biting your lip for so long you could taste the metallic iron from the blood you had drawn. You wiped your lip and then proceeded to get unchanged as fast as you could, if you left it too long you were terrified you would change your mind.

Finally after a few brief moments you had the bikini on and you turned to look at yourself in the body. Your breath hitched as you saw yourself in a new light. You looked good. The scars were there of course forever taunting you, but even you had to admit that red really suited your form. Smiling from ear to ear you put a t-shirt and your previously discarded shorts on before setting off downstairs, without the protection of your book.

The discarded water from the pool clung to your feet as you padded across the concrete floor towards the deck chairs, a t-shirt and small pair of shorts the only things covering your flesh. You picked a seat next to your best friend Shelby, who was sunning herself after having been in the pool for the best part of an hour. Sitting up she was shocked to see you with your arms and legs on display, but the face of shock soon turned into a huge grin.

“Fucking fire, Y/N. You’re smoking!” She cackled. You rolled your eyes and sheepishly sat down beside her. “Whatever….” You smiled with a light blush on your cheeks. 

Okay, you can do this. You’re with friends, who cares. Just take your clothes off quickly before you change your mind, rip the bandaid off. Fisting your hands in the hem of your t-shirt you pulled it above your head and dropped it on the chair behind you. Before you could chicken out you rose to your feet and tugged off your shorts before discarding those too.

“Oh my god!” Shelby exclaimed. “You’re making me so proud I might cry.” 

“My god, shut up!” You hush-shouted, trying not to attract any attention. The red bikini clung kindly to your figure and even you had to admit that you felt good in it. For years you had battled to try and regain any confidence but until now you hadn’t gotten so close. 

“You want a drink?” You ask Shelby, feeling another surge of confidence. You could do this, you could walk around the pool in your bikini and grab two drinks, right? 

“Oh a coke please. With ice. And-” 

“I can’t hear you!” You sing, walking away from her before she can add anymore to your shopping list. You swayed your hips as you walked, feeling like a goddess. Finally you made it to the drinks cart that Sy had planted out in the garden. 

Shelby’s POV

Shelby lay back against the deck seat, fanning her face with her hand as she watched you walk across the poolside. The creaking of the chair next to yours caught her attention so she turned to inspect the disturbance, finding Syverson laying back in just his swimming shorts. 

“Hey, big guy.” She said, not at all phased by how outrageously gorgeous the man was. Everybody knew Shelby had always preferred women. 

“Hey, yourself. Where’d Y/N go? She upstairs?” He asked in a nonchalant tone. Shelby let out a giggle and replied.

“She went to grab a drink.” The captain nodded before laying further back and soaking up the rays from the sun. 

Shelby sat up from her spot and dangled her feet off the edge of the deck chair, hand out to grab the drink in your hand even though you were quite far away still. As you begin to get closer to your destination Shelby is taken aback by a low growl behind her. She could faintly hear the low mutter of the word ‘fuck’ coming from Syverson, so she turned to see he was watching you. Resisting the urge to say anything she continued to watch as his eyes hungrily raked across your feminem form. His chest was heaving as he took you in and there was a subtle but noticable patch of blood on his bottom lip from where he had bitten down too hard. When you finally made it to the deck chairs Sy lay down and pretended he wasn’t looking at you, but Shelby knew the truth.

Your POV

You weren’t entirely obtuse and you knew Sy was watching you, you were terrified he was disgusted with your body. Feigning confidence you gave him a small smile before you handed Shelby her drink and sat in the seat between them. For a moment you wondered what it would be like to not second guess every movement, every sentence and every thing you did. You wanted to sit and face your friend, but if you did you would turn your back to Sy and after he had given you this new found confidence that felt wrong. Whilst you were trying to figure out your best option, Sy abruptly got up from his decking chair and stormed off at lightning speed. 

You couldn’t understand what you did wrong until you heard Shelby giggling to herself. Turning to face her you reprimanded her for being so childish.

“What is so funny?” You grumbled, taking a sip of your drink. Shelby snorted before laughing some more. 

“You turned him on….” Shelby whispered to you. As the words left her mouth your eyes widened with your mouth. A playful but hard swat was rewarded to her.

“No I did not!” Another swat flew her way but she laughed harder, throwing her head back. 

“You did! He had a semi, I saw it! You should have heard what he said when he saw you walking over here. I mean damn, if I weren’t gay as hell? that would have made me clench.” 

“SHELBY!” You shouted. All of a sudden everybodys eyes were on you but Shelby’s loud cackling bored them and they all went back to their activities. 

“Don’t be so cruel.” You said quietly this time. Shelby stopped laughing and placed her hand on her heart. 

“Babe, no. I’m serious! He asked where you were and when you turned up he bit his lip and said “Fuck”. He didn’t realise I heard.” Shelby took a drink from the coke you had brought her before continuing. “He growled at you, girl.” She finished. Rolling your eyes you put your legs up on the deck chair and lay down, pulling your shades down over your eyes. 

“Whatever, Shelby. Guys probably got a queue of ladies after him. All of them gorgeous too, I bet.”

“You’re gorgeous.” Shelby replied sweetly, laying back and following your lead. 

“You have to say that, you’re my best friend.” You answered nonchalantly. 

“Yeah, but I’m Gay. Doesn’t that count for something? You’re hot. Suck it up.” You chuckled. You no longer had the energy to argue about this topic again but you just couldn’t believe her, even though you had liked what you saw in the mirror, you just couldn’t. 

Teeny Tiny taglist: @the-soot-sprite  @littlefreya @omgkatinka @alexakeyloveloki @myloveforhenrycavill @worshipping-skarsgard  @enchantedbytomandhenry​ 

Smitten Sy! ;) Big guy loosing his cool

Gang of Roses (2003)

reblog if you:

no one will ever know which one

i will always say (vintage) americana coquette is not complete without examples of black women thats pure americana and femininity right there

you can literally see where lanas early influences are 😭 (along with chicanas cannot forget them)

This is ✨IT✨

once you go x black!reader you can’t go back

_magda__

‘Oh girl c’mon it’ll be fun!’ Betty exclaimed as she tugged Regina’s hands, pulling her in the direction of the pub that was booming with country music, soldiers in uniform lingering about.

‘Betty!’ She snatched her hand away, watching Betty stumble before once again gaining her footing. ‘Girl, my daddy is in the service! What if someone saw me in there!’ She whined out.

Her small friend pursed her lips together hard, dusting off her polka dotted dress in frustration and running her slender fingers through her freshly done candy curls.

‘Your daddy-‘ she said the words with bitterness. ‘Ain’t here.’ She let out a loud sigh and placed her hands on her hips, ‘Look. I know you’ve been under the weather since the death of your fiancé and—‘

Hoooooly mother of God!! I need a minute. Or a few more minutes. Damn girl, that was hot!!

The 🔥🫠🥵 smut alone would already make an amazing story, but I also loved the background and details you included. The combo makes it even better! Loved it so much!! ❤️

I’m so glad you enjoyed it baby 🩷😩 your support means the world to me 💓

I am dead serious when I say that you guys need to start giving writers feedback more often. I have a fic here that has a total of 4015 notes and only 218 aren't likes. So, let me break this down for you a bit.

Of 4015 notes, 186 are reblogs and 32 are comments. Two reblogs, as well as comments, are mine so I'll subtract them from the equation making the total number of notes 4011 (184 rbs, 30 comments, 3,797 likes).

Of the 184 reblogs, 16 are private, meaning they're absolutely useless in spreading and sharing the piece. The remaining 168 consists of 136 reblogs falling under "other reblogs" while only 32 fall under "comments and tags." And of the 32 under "comments and tags," only 9 have something besides a copy of the tags that I included in my initial post.

The 184 reblogs make up 4.6% of the total notes, the reblogs under "comments and tags" make up 0.8% of the total notes, and the reblogs under "comments and tags" with anything besides tags copied from the initial post make up 0.2% of the total notes.

At one point, I reblogged the post, asking if anyone wanted a part two. That's when I got my first comments. The first 6 comments were in response to that, and of the 30 total comments (excluding my own), only two were unrelated to a part two. Which means I can guarantee that I wouldn't have had that many comments had I not posed the question of a sequel fic.

And if I add those 2 comments to the 9 reblogs, I get 0.3% of the total notes on my post that make up the portion of notes that aren't likes, empty reblogs, or comments about a part two. And that's me being generous because two of the reblogs actually do mention a part two.

I also posted a poll asking what people wanted in part two, and that poll got 238 votes. That is 54 people more who voted for what they wanted in a part two that didn't reblog or help push part one.

Don't get me wrong, I love seeing people in my notifs liking my posts, but sometimes it's just not enough. It is utterly exhausting waking up to multiple hundreds of notifications and not seeing a single person compliment your work. You guys will like stuff, follow, and then head straight to the inbox asking for more. I know it's been said a hundred times before, but we are not machines; we do this for free in our spare time.

The post in question was written when I was tired out of my mind, and I ended up not liking it, so I let it sit in my drafts. I briefly mentioned it on my blog and was met with one of my followers showing interest in the idea, which prompted me to revise, edit, and post it. It was a gift, as are all fics and pieces of art by writers and artists on this site, and yet it was treated like a commodity.

When people say it's unmotivating they're not kidding. When I had 100+ asks in my inbox, all of them being requests, I felt like I had the worst case of writers block known to man. I would open my inbox and immediately close it because the idea of posting anything knowing the only response would be more requests, was awful.

When people leave little messages in the tags, full-blown commentary, or kind messages in my inbox referencing posts, I feel more motivated than ever. Those responses are what drives me to write more. But when I, and other writers, are being treated like we're here to cook up whatever fantasisies you have in mind, I can't help but side-eye a little.

We wouldn't write if we didn't enjoy it, but the moment it feels like a job, it becomes that much less enjoyable, and then everybody loses. Just send a kind message to your favorite writers every once in a while. I promise it'll make their day.

I would also like to say that as I've written this, I've seen more people like that post. So, there's that.

people love to complain about sex scenes in tv shows and violence in movies when the real danger is scenes that make you feel second hand embarrassment.

When you run out of fics to read