caucasian woman


On the night of the 4th of May, 1984, three teenagers stumbled across a body of a female near Westby, Wisconsin. The scene was a gruesome one. The woman’s face was bludgeoned beyond recognition. She suffered a broken jaw, a broken eye socket, and her dentures had been smashed inside her mouth. A model of her likeness could only be created after mortuary personnel reconstructed her face.

She became known as the Vernon County Jane Doe and was described as a caucasian woman between 50 and 65 years old. She had greying brown hair which was worn in a perm. She was approximately 5 feet 5 inches to 5 feet 6 inches and weighed around 150 pounds. She was wearing a black dress with a paisley print, a blue turtleneck sweater, a multicoloured coat, and nylon stockings. The labels of the clothing has been removed, presumably to prevent identification. Even more gruesome, her hands had also been chopped off. Again, this would have been to prevent identification via fingerprints.

After the case was published in local news, a couple came forward to tell police that they had seen a suspicious man climbing into the driver’s seat of a yellow Datsun at the crime scene. When they directed police to where the car was parked, they found a broken denture, blood, and a man’s watch. Despite the fact that over 4,000 leads were logged over the forthcoming years, her identity still remains unknown along with the identity of her killer.

people are arguing over mercy’s concept art. some people are pulling the “oh you want a MALE character?? sexist, MERCY is female representation!!”

but like. 

there are plenty of female characters in video games.

with enormous breasts, perfect hair, tight pants, form-fitting battle suits. 

we’re GOOD on sexy female video game characters with combat heels. 

I don’t mind Mercy’s design, alright, I just like her concept art better. 


the argument that “mercy is female, it’s good representation-”….

it’s dumb.

she’s a healer pacifist woman whose job is to run in and keep the big strong other characters alive. 

Her job is to worry over everyone’s wellbeing. 

She’s incredibly vital to a team, I mean, everyone knows you need a healer and she’s like, the number one picked healer. She can solo heal, can rez people, and is pretty OP, all things considered. 

But the fact is that she was “safe” for blizzard. 

a hot, beautiful, compassionate pacifist who doesn’t fight, but worries about her team and brings people back to life so they can fight for her. 

she’s fine, i just don’t give blizzard points for designing a Caucasian European woman. 

She’s waifu bait and you all know it. 

The concept art would’ve been something new. 

And a helluva lot more risky for Blizzard. 

But as we’ve estalished.

Blizzard is a coward. 


Polina Dementova


synopsis: a very frustated reader is failing her korean class while an equally flustered seungcheol is struggling in english o(^▽^)o high school!au

genre: fluff!

word count: 4,088 ٩(•́⌄•́๑)

It was not easy being an exchange student in Korea; you never claimed it was. Whatever possessed you to move from your home country to the world’s peak nation of academic competitiveness you couldn’t remember, but it was too late to turn back. You were the only non-Korean you knew of in the entire school– perhaps every other foreigner had given up– so the standards were never lowered. You were to march to the same drum as all the Korean students, and at times, that drum was far too harsh.

Take Calculus for example. Back home, the finding and properties of derivatives and integrals of functions wasn’t exactly easy, but it was possible. Your teacher was always willing to help individual students and, most importantly, everyone spoke English. But as you sat in the back of your Korean Calculus class (yes, the very back: you showed up to class your first day and the only open desk was a lonely slab of wood beneath a cruel air vent), you might as well have been asleep. The teacher stood behind his podium like an imposing statue, lecturing nonstop, and only said “Any questions?” just before the bell rang each day. Fearful of your next teacher, you scurried out despite being dazed and horribly confused. Each afternoon of yours was spent in that same classroom in tutoring, which arguably still didn’t help.

You promised your calculus teacher you would come, as he was so concerned about your grades that he had made it a requirement or else you would be pulled from the class. “I promise I can do it, I’m just a little behind everyone else, the Korean students, I mean… as you already know,” you sputtered. He chuckled every time.

But what was much more interesting than the droning of your teacher was his student aide: Choi Seungcheol. He sat in the very front during third period each day and paced the aisles between the desks during afternoon tutoring sessions. The faint scent of cotton and traces of cologne followed him past you, and you noticed yourself gripping your pencil a little tighter. “Ms. Y/N, are you still with us?” Your teacher would call, not stopping his chalk or tearing his vision from the board.

“Of course, sir,” you would stutter. Not once did you notice Seungcheol’s amused smirk behind you.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

1. your latest works with Reyes, and Mccree are pure gold! please don't stop writing them because they are just way too good. <3 + 2. Can I request one where the reader is a caucasian sniper woman, with low self esteem (but is in reality kind of hot) and Mccree acknowledging her beauty?

Ah, thank you, I love that you enjoy reading them! Of course, it is short but I hope you enjoy reading!

- - - - - - - -

You closed one eye and looked through the scope. Your body was flat on the gravel top of a grungy motel, hidden in the shadows behind flashing neon lights. The stones were uncomfortable to lie on, especially when all you were wearing was a skintight black body suit to slip into the darkness. You had no use for armour, as the fight was never brought to you.

You could see the target you were assigned to maim - not kill; more than a shock to show how valuable they were and not waste their life away more than anything. The brief was incredibly specific. They were just standing there, hip struck out as their weight was passed to one side. A cigarrette hung from the corner of their mouth and the smoke drifted up infrequently, the light from their holopad ominously lighting up their face. You slightly moved your sight down, focusing in between the hip and the thigh.

You squeezed the trigger and the shot rang out. Chaos ensued with people screaming and glass breaking, confused to what was happening. The target dropped to the floor, clutching their side and shouting for help amongs the commotion. A smile ghosted across your lips.

Mission complete.

“Well done, dollface.” A southern drawl sounded over your earpiece.
“Just packing up, be at the rendezvous in approximately seven minutes.”
“Right at'cha, sweetheart.”

Will he ever cease with his pet names? You rolled your eyes to yourself, precisely packing your sniper away into what appeared to be a saxophone case in it’s previous life, as not draw suspicion.

Hooking the strap of the case over your shoulder, you slid down the rungs of the fire escape ladder until your feet lightly hit the the floor. You pulled your black scarf to cover the bottom half of your face. Your skin was so pale it would no doubt reflect any light shone at you, and that isn’t what you wanted at this time. Black covered every inch of your body, from the flats you wore on your feet to the beanie that sat atop your long locks.

A few minutes of fast paced walking and you had arrived at the meeting point. McCree was facing the other way from you, looking up at the stars no doubt appreciating their beauty. That was one good thing of being so far away from a city was that there was no light pollution and you could just see for miles.

“They are.” You agreed.

Jesse span around, his signature cigar hanging from his lips and his thumbs in his belt buckles. You had to admit, working in Blackwatch had its advantages, and working with the one and only Jesse McCree was one of them.

“I was talkin’ ‘bout you.”

Your brows furrowed. You and Jesse had been in a constant back and forth the past month or so. To say you had low self-esteem was an understatement, and to then be constantly paired with this confident piece of shit every mission didn’t help. He was lovely, but his ego was bigger than that ridiculous belt buckle he still wore.

“Not now. We need to debrief.”
“I mean, you could'a said earlier..” He made his way to start unzipping his trousers, a wolfish grin plastered on his face.
“I’m just playin’. I don’t understand ya, doll.” He stalked his way over to you, you following his dance and stepping back.
“Good.” You said bluntly.

Your back hit the solid front of a tree, your head now tilted up to look at the figure looming over you.

“You wear this kinda shit on missions,’ he said, plucking the beanie off of your head and pulling the scarf down from your face, ‘and don’t expect me to get even a little-”

“Funnily enough I don’t dress like this for you.” You snapped before he could finish what he saying. “I dress like this because it’s uniform and so I don’t have my cover blown.”

He sighed. Taking your hands he gently removed the finger of each glove and slowly pulled them off. He rolled the wrists together and gave the pair back to you.

“I don’t understand why ya cover up.”
“Like I said-”
“No. That’s for missions. Even at base you still don’t show a lot off.”
“Maybe because I don’t have a lot to show off.” You mumbled, dropping your head to look at the earthy ground.

McCree put his finger under your chin and forced you to look at him. His eyebrows were crossed, a concerned look in his eyes.

“You do realise you’re beautiful, right?”
You shook your head. You had always felt plain in comparison to the other women at the Overwatch headquarters. People like Angela and Captain Amari were on another level, and if little Fareeha grew up to look anything like her mother then wow.

“I don’t know why you hide everything away.” His hand had trailed to cup your cheek. “Why do you think we were always together on missions?”

Bastard. Of course it was him.

“I only thought you were a pretty face, but seeing you complete a job and complete it well? Oh boy.” A light dusting of pink scattered his cheeks. “Does more t'a man than you can imagine.”

“I- just.. Seeing how Overwatch ever seems to hire supermodels these days, I was surprised to be even be shortlisted..”

He looked taken aback, as though he was offended.

“Darlin’, Overwatch hires people for their skill. When I heard a sniper was joining Blackwatch I was mighty excited. Then to see it was you?” He put his hands on his hips and exaggerated a huff, making you chuckle. “Brains 'nd talent are far more respectable than just what'cha look like. As long as you put 'n the effort, no one can ever doubt ya. One day, I will make you see that. For now all I’ll do is call ya pretty and hope you agree with me.” He ended with a hat tilt and a cheeky smirk.

His hands cupped your cheeks and he pressed his lips gently to your forehead.

“Until we become more, that’s all I can do f'ya.”
“Until we become more?” You questioned, eyebrow raising.“
“Of course, honey. One day we’re g'na settle down in a nice 'lil cottage with a red front door and a white picket fence..” he trailed off, resting his head on top of yours.

You weren’t even a couple before tonight, but things may have now changed. You smiled gratefully, leaning into his embrace.

“Jesse, I hate to interrupt-”
“And we can get two dogs-”

He took your hand, leading you over to the dropship, no intention of stopping this fantasy of his.

“One can be called-”
He looked at you, eyes wide from realising he’d been rambling.

“Thank you.”

He smiled, pulling you into an embrace.

“Anytime, doll.”

Tumblr: Don’t watch the Ghost in the Shell movie! It’s whitewashing!

Ghost in the Shell movie: (An evil corporation takes a Japanese girl and inserts her brain into an android body modeled after a Caucasian woman. Said girl eventually finds out the truth and brings the corporation crashing down and then goes back to her Japanese mother to try and live the life that was stolen from her in one of the best metaphors of whitewashing in a movie I’ve ever seen)

story time that no one asked for

I was at marina barrage (tourist spot here in singapore) with my friends yesterday and this caucasian woman comes up to me and asks,
“do you speak english?”
and I was in a semi-bad mood so I responded with,
“everyone in singapore speaks english”
“oh good, because you can never be sure with asian people; they’re less-” and she pointed to her head like she was suggesting asians are dumb
she looked dutch, but didn’t have an accent so I wanted to ask her,
“can you speak dutch? because I’m willing to bet you can’t. at least I can speak my native languages” (I’M FUCKING TRILINGUAL YOU DUMBASS ok not really but shhh)
she asked me for directions, paused and said,
“you can understand me, right?”
I was so done at that point so I said, “indubitably. it would be ludicrous and idiosyncratic for you to think otherwise.” in a really pretentious voice
so whatever I told her how to get there and she said thanks but just as she was walking away my friend blurted out,
“the top 4 countries in terms of academic calibre are all asian countries, by the way!”
and the woman looked so dumbfounded yes I love my friend

“So? What were you going to ask me?”

It was several minutes later.

After somebody suggested that they at least move somewhere else first, they walked to a quieter spot further inside the park, and Shizuo asked them the question again.

“Eh, yeah. That’s why we wanted more information on that Orihara Izaya bastard…but that guy’s hard to figure out. We don’t even know where he is, really…”

“I want to know that myself. I’m going to beat him to death myself once I find out where he is…”

Vorona, the Caucasian woman, asked in an even tone as she heard Shizuo’s words, “There exists a case about which I have been concerned since previously. Is the living being called Orihara Izaya a sworn enemy or something resembling the sort for Shizuo-sempai?”

“No, Orihara Izaya is kind of like a flea. He’ll get close to you before you know it, and he’ll have sucked your blood when you realize that he’s here. He’s just a noxious insect like that, so make sure to never ever let him get close to you.”

“I hereby declare my satisfaction. Agreement and understanding, achieved

Nodding as she spoke in strange Japanese, Vorona etched the name “Orihara Izaya” into her head.

Back when she was a “freelancer” she had accepted a job from Izaya via her partner Slon to “injure Sonohara Anri”—but since she was not interested in her clients in general, she probably didn’t bother to ask for Izaya’s name or see his face. Even if she had, she would have forgotten about him.

Without realizing that she had somehow gotten close to interacting with Izaya before, Vorona now associated the name Izaya firmly with the nickname “the flea.”
The young men who heard this conversation, meanwhile, hastened to agree in unison.

“Y-Yes! That’s exactly right! That Izaya is just a shitty bastard like that! Actually, our boss also said that he was going to kill him for real for stealing his girlfriend!”

As he said these words, Tom said in a placating tone, “Hey, I understand how hard it is for him to have his girlfriend stolen, but could you not involve us in things that sound too extreme like killing and all that? Shizuo gets mad enough as it is at the mere mention of that guy’s name.”

“…It’s OK, Tom-san. When I do kill that guy, I’m going to make sure that no one gets in trouble because of it. Not you, not Vorona, not Manager or anyone else…”
Shizuo spoke with a grave expression on his face.

Tom cut in hurriedly, “No! That’s not the problem here…you see?! Besides, you can’t do it without anyone getting into trouble, it’s just not possible. Also—I’m going to keep telling you this until you really understand it—that kind of scum is just not worth ruining your own life for.”

“…Well let’s just wish that the flea goes to rot somewhere else and never appears in my sight again, then…!”

There Vorona cut in again.

“Carrying out murder, I have the confidence to accomplish leaving zero evidence. To eliminate the noxious insect called Izaya, there exist multiple ways.”

Shizuo frowned involuntarily as he heard his kouhai say these dangerous words.

“Oi, oi, you don’t say that kind of stuff even if it’s just kidding.”
As if forgetting that he himself had already sworn that he’d “kill” Izaya several times today, Shizuo stroked Vorona’s head as he muttered:

“Knowing that’s how you feel is more than enough for me. Thank you.”


Vorona fell silent and looked up at Shizuo in the eye before averting her gaze.

…Shizuo and Vorona, they have a good thing going there…right?

Well, they look like they’ve got something of that sort going…or do they?

Or is it just me?

The conversation that led to this was so dangerous that it was quite hard for Tom to make sense of what was happening right now.

– Durarara!! Light Novel Volume 9