They said,
It’s a girl.

You heard,
It is cotton candy sweet, bubblegum pink,
Soft like stuffed animals or angel wings.
Vanilla birthday cake, long dresses,
Lipstick stains left on glasses. 
Peach rings, sappy movies, 
Long braids, and gently swaying park swings. 

She shook her head, 
And she said,
Not all little girls are made of
Sugar and spice and everything nice.
Some are made of wind, and paint,
And sharp words and smoke filled flames-
And are not ashamed.

You heard,
Non-computed nonsense,
Confused, rebel tomboy.
Heard she’ll grow out of it.
She’ll get used to it- just a phase.
Saw no harm in stuffing her into pink frills
And choking her on perfume clouds.
Tying necklace like noose around her neck.

Heard that sometimes little girls
Needed to be forced into femininity
Before they knew they liked it.
Dehumanization could be an acquired taste.

They told her, girls are meant to sit quiet and  look pretty,
And you are failing at both jobs.
Don’t you know that girl is made to be Christmas tree ornament?
Mantel piece trophy-
Decoration, not music box.
Not to be heard.
No one wants you to be heard.
No one is listening.
You are talking to yourself and you are terrible company,
Until you learn your manners.
Until you learn that respect was not your birthrate.
Be reincarnated boy if you want the right to speak without permission slip.

Loud is not a trait good husbands look for.
You are not a trait good husbands look for.
You will not be wanted.
You are not wanted.
And don’t you know that that is all a little girl should ever be?
If a girl sits alone in the forest and nobody is there to want her,
Should she even move out of the way of the falling tree?

Eventually, your lungs will have burst from trying too long to breathe in too tight of dresses.
You will have to wear bracelets to hide all the rope burns from having hands tied.
You will have tried so hard to make yourself into ice sculptor glass,
That your limbs will shatter at the smallest impact.
One day, your tongue will fall out of your mouth
From having to bite it one too many times.

When all of this happens, I advise you to give in.
Let them give you their kitchen-
Let them paint the walls pink,
And drape you in a floral apron.
And then, when they come wandering back,
Because it smells like something’s burning,

Make them wonder why the lace curtains are on fire
And why the knives are in the walls,
And why the house is caving,
And why you are sitting like the picture perfect placemat
That they have always trained you to be,
In the center of such apocalyptic chaos.
They will ask you why-
But I say to you,
Do not tell them.
After all,
They never wanted your words before.

—  It’s a Girl //// Destruction Has Always Been a Feminine Trait
Louis Tomlinson is a beautiful enigma

Thank you investigatelilourry for trying to kill me by asking me to look at dozens of Louis photos tagging me to share my favorite pics/gifs of Louis. I nearly had a meltdown trying to choose. This is like 1% of my favorites, but here they are:

we should never ever forget this sparkling baby covered in cake

soft angel, perfect sweater

happy after publicly flying around the world with his husband!!! (also his smile is my favorite thing and I have a tag dedicated to it)

ok but look at his cutie pie stacked feet!!

will I ever shut up about how sharp he looked at the ARIAs?


casual beautiful in a SHEER SHIRT

and recently the happiest gif ever featuring lima bean

Phew, we survived. I’m tagging: alwaysalouisgirl loustomlinso thisisjustk firstmatesheeran tasteslikecocacola fuzzypurplestuff notscaredofloveee thisfuckingbandiswear srslycris

Good luck if you’re planning on doing it, it hurts a lot.
Police: Maryland boy handcuffed, beaten for eating birthday cake dies

No trial needed kick him in the throat and kill his sorry self. Sorry for the anger ladies but i get so angry when these people kill their children or other people’s children.If you did not want one tie your damn tubes or do not get into any relationship with someone who has children.So many people are turning themselves inside out trying to conceive and become parents and this moron kills a sweet angel for eating cake.

The signs as desserts
  • Aries:strawberry banana smoothie
  • Taurus:triple fudge chocolate cake
  • Gemini:fruit tart
  • Cancer:raspberry coffee cake
  • Leo:neapolitan ice cream
  • Virgo:blackberry macaron
  • Libra:lemon meringue pie
  • Scorpio:devil's food cake
  • Sagittarius:chocolate brownie
  • Capricorn:angel food cake
  • Aquarius:new york cheesecake
  • Pisces:peach cobbler

anonymous asked:

Darius, Draven, and Morgana. The brothers have been her bakery's regulars since they were little.

Morgana was used to certain regulars coming to her shop. That is to say, she dealt with them on a regular basis. But her clientele was far from regular.

Pantheon came in at least once a week, but instead of buying anything, he just asked to use Morgana’s kitchen. His baking had improved enough that she could actually sell whatever he didn’t take with him, but he always declined when she offered him an actual paid position.

Kayle never showed up in person, but she sent couriers to pick up her orders for her. It was always a different one, and they never gave a name, but no one but Morgana’s sister ordered angel food cake with lemon icing on Sunday.

Diana always just pointed to a random item in the display, and then pretended to eat it while she gossiped. For someone who claimed not to care about what Leona was doing with her time, she certainly spent a lot of time complaining about what Leona was doing with her time. But Morgana enjoyed the company, so she let the Lunari stay.

And then there was-

“Draven has arrived!” the executioner shouted, kicking the front door open. Darius rolled his eyes as he came in behind him.

“If you break my door again, you’re gonna pay,” Morgana threatened, but she was smiling faintly. She’d been saying the same thing for years, and every time he said-

“If the Draven breaks down your door, he’ll just sign it afterwards. That way you can sell the autograph!”

Morgana rolled her eyes, mostly out of habit. “The usual?” she asked.

“That’s right, one Draven special,” he said, leaning against the counter.

“Still not gonna call it that,” Morgana said, placing a cardboard box in front of him. She opened it let him inspect the contents – a half dozen fried balls of dough, each one filled with a different flavor of jelly and glazed to match. When he grinned and gave her a thumbs up, she closed it and slid it over to him. He scooped it up, danced over to a table in the corner, and started stuffing his face.

“And for you?” she asked, turning to face Darius. “Let me guess – one loaf of plain bread to go with your rations.”

Darius grunted. “Not today. Celebrating a special occasion,” he said with all the joy of a funeral director.

“Oh really? I know it’s not your birthday, because Draven hasn’t tried to order ‘a cake you can fit twenty strippers inside of’. So what are we celebrating?”

Darius pulled a stool up to the counter and sat down, leaning forward. “Twenty years ago, two dirty, little urchins were lost in Noxus, scrounging around for anything edible. And coincidentally, they stumbled across a fallen angel. Now, that angel looked like shit and she didn’t have much going for her. But she gave the boys what she could, and later that day, one of those wretched kids found her to repay the favor. He said-“

“He said, ‘Noxians don’t take charity’,” she finished. She placed another box on the counter, much smaller than the one she gave Draven. Inside was a single cupcake with purple icing, just like the one Darius had given her all those years ago. “I didn’t think you’d remember.”

Darius allowed himself a small smile, but only a small one. “I’ve got a good memory. Split it with me.”