i am such a chick

One year. A lot can happen in a mere 365 days. Last year there was a shy, depressed, withdrawn shell of my former self who attempted a cover free swimsuit selfie. Someone who struggled to see the light after throwing herself into darkness. In the year following, she met love, she met death twice, she deeply slept, she laughed, she cried, she gained, she lost, she pushed, pulled and conquered. I was born from that. My story is not pretty, it is not one of rainbows and princesses but one of strength. I vow to love every dimple, every curve, every lump and bump, to no longer hide, and shine as bright as my smile. Whether it’s bgad, darkskin appreciation day or just a fat chick in a two piece I am here, bold and beautiful 😍

Location: Daytona beach, Florida Swimsuit : Torrid Hair: Ma dukes Happiness: me
Moments In The Dark

For the @txf-fic-chicks post-ep challenge: 

Post-ep for 2x02 “The Host”, MSR UST, PG-13  I have a second part in mind unless this part is so bad that you guys think it should not be continued. I completely rewrote this thing three times and I can no longer tell. 

Here’s the story: 

It’s not easy to observe Mulder here from the bench while his back is to her, but Scully decides to give him this moment to himself. She wants to watch him for a while; these days she doesn’t get to do it. She hardly gets to see him as it is.

He’s staring straight ahead, away from her, into a future neither of them can know. The distance between here and the railing, between Mulder and Scully is a mere reflection of their current professional relationship; she can pick up the phone for him, help him along, but it’s never close enough.

Scully shivers in the chilly night air, missing his warmth by her side. Her eyes are glued to his back as if afraid that once she takes her eyes off him, or even just blinks, he will be gone. So far he hasn’t run, though. She can only hope he won’t. Watching him, she can’t help but think back to what now seems a lifetime ago. Their first day out in Oregon when she was still so green and he never missed a chance to remind her of that. There had been no trust between them at first, dancing around each other, just trying to figure out what the other one was thinking. Right now, even with the x-files closed and their partnership dissolved, the thought of not trusting him, of not being beside him seems unfathomable. Mulder shifts his weight from one leg to the other and that’s her cue.

As if on autopilot, Scully gets up from the bench and joins him at the railing. There’s nothing to be seen here in this lake except for the dancing reflections on the water, she thinks, but if anyone can catch monsters and wonders in the dark nothingness, it’s Mulder. Her gloved hand reaches out to touch his arm. They need to get out of this cold, but for the moment she merely absent-mindedly strokes his arm through his coat sleeve as if that could provide him with enough warmth.

“Are you still thinking about leaving the Bureau?” Scully asks him without taking her eyes off the water. When he told her about it, a flippant, throw away comment, she didn’t want to believe it. She still doesn’t.

“I did think about it, but now…”

“But now?” She tightens her hold on his arm.  

“We can’t just give up. I mean I can’t give up and I won’t. Success in our work is imperative, Scully. Reinstatement of the X-Files must be undeniable.” He repeats the words he told her early; they sound like a mantra, now.

“We’re in this together, Mulder. I want the x-files back just as much as you do.” As if she could ever be anywhere else now, she thinks, but she is not ready to admit it to herself yet. Let alone him. Mulder smiles, his eyes directed towards something out there he’s not sharing with her. Could it have ever been different? She wonders. If they’d met differently. Maybe right here one night; she walking a tiny dog, he out for a run. They’d bump into each other, perhaps, smile and then… just silly thoughts.

That wouldn’t have been them; it never could be. But right now, Scully wants a do-over anyway. She wants to know him again, to know him differently. To salvage something just in case. In case they never get to work with each other again. She couldn’t let go of him when they closed the x-files and she followed all of his ridiculous rules just so she got to see him. He insisted on secret meetings and on every possible precaution. Scully didn’t let go then and she’s not going to let go of him now.

Fight, he told her. Fight they will. But maybe not tonight.  

“Mulder?”

“Hm?” His eyes, glazed over, still lost somewhere, find hers.

“Let’s go home.” He chuckles and the wind carries the sound away way too soon, replaces it with a heavy silence, words that get stuck, unsaid.

“Come on, Mulder,” Scully tugs at his sleeve, “You have to go home. It’s cold. And I really didn’t want to say anything, but you do need a shower.” Another chuckle and this time he moves. His shoulder bumps hers as they slowly walk away from their bench.

“I don’t really want to, you know…,” he pauses, licking his lips, “this work is my life and I… I need you on this, Scully. To get our work back.” His voice breaks at the end, his statement almost lost in the cold air surrounding them, and Scully reaches for his hand. She wishes she had taken off her glove because all she wants is to feel him now, his skin, his warmth.

“You won’t lose me, Mulder. I’m always just a phone call away.” She assures him with a smile. They’re hidden here; the streetlights not giving off enough light to catch them together in the shadows and so she leans closer to him, sharing more body heat. A justifiable action, she reasons with herself.

“Scully, we shouldn't… this is-” Mulder looks around, frantically searching for shadows that aren’t there.

“Mulder, no one cares about us. Not as long as the x-files are closed.”

“How can you say that, Scully?” He steps away from her and she feels the loss of this warmth immediately, “Or maybe you don’t really want the x-files back.”

“Of course I do. Do you think Flukemen are part of my current assignment? They’re not, Mulder. None of this is. I do want the x-files back, but most of all,” she takes a deep breath, “Most of all I want to know you’re all right. I don’t want to lose you.” It’s Scully who takes the step. She is drawn to him, like a moth to light, and he lets her. Her arms go around him, hold him close as she buries her face in his chest. He stiffens for a moment and she knows he wants to push her away. They shouldn’t be doing this out here where anyone could see them. But her need to feel him is stronger now than anything else. And finally he relaxes against her and his arms sneak around her waist, resting still on her lower back. He’s not going to let go of her either.

“Scully, I really need a shower.” He mumbles into her hair and she chuckles, because he is right. The faint smell of the sewer clings to him, but it can’t cover up his own, very specific Mulder scent completely.

“Want company?” She surprises him and herself.

“Always.” He kisses the crown of her head gently and then he lets go of her, his arms falling to his sides. There’s a question in his eyes, on his tongue, and Scully will answer it. Once they’re safe in his apartment. Where no one can see them. Where no one can stop them.

“Come on,” She tells him now, taking his hand, 

“We’re going home.”

Pen Pals

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: The Reader takes up a Pen Pals writing program at her school, and soon finds herself falling for the military man who’s been sending her letters. What happens when she graduates? Will the letters still come after, or is she just a random person who was strung along just to blow off some steam via words? 

Word Count: 1.7kish

Warnings: AU, Fluff, Light Cursing

Author’s Note: Heyy my loves! This is my entry for @revwinchester‘s Birthday Challenge. I got the prompt “Soldier” with Dean (obviously). This was meant to be a one shot, but then I thought, why not make the other half in Dean’s POV? It’s only fair, right? Second part will come next weekend. And the third the following weekend. I really hope you guys like this! Feedback is definitely welcomed!!

*Part Two*



Chapter One: First Letters

Pen Pal - a person with whom one becomes friendly by exchanging letters, especially someone in a foreign country whom one has never met.


I never thought I’d be the one to do these kinds of things. When I signed up for it at the beginning of freshman year in high school, people thought I was insane. They didn’t think I was going to go through with it, you see.

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anonymous asked:

am i the only one hoping to see camila with a seriously hot chick with an awesome mind (but adorabale too) soon? im guessing lauren would be all jealously indirecting the fuck outta camila and new chick with 'im better than her' tweets but also emo jelly tumblr posts on the side. haha then bam! camila comes out with the new chick as her gf. ouch! thats what you get for messing with CS and all its glory, lauren sweetie. cmon mila, get you some girl that'll make lauren crazy jealous! haha

Jealous Lauren is the best: She literally gets jealous of anyone who gets close to Camila, it is funny.

Lemme present to you the evidences I have gathered to support my claim: bwahahahaha


Exhibit #1 Lauren got jealous of PR Austin:


Exhibit #2 Look at how Lauren at the background wanting to kill Shawn so bad.


Exhibit #3 Lauren was jealous of Normila too bahaha


Exhibit #4 Lauren was jealous of Caminah as well lmao


Exhibit #5 Lauren was even jealous of Camally too, could you believe that! bwahahahahaahahahaha

The Painter’s Muse

OMG ANON THANK YOU! I always love getting requests, they’re so fun. I hope you like it anon! Tbh, I never considered writing a Minghao imagine, but I like how it ended up(:

Originally posted by mountean

Pairing: Minghao/Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU

Word Count: 3K

Summary: You’ve sworn you seen the girl in the painting, staring contently at you, you just don’t remember ever posing for the picture centuries before. 

Author’s note: I never really thought of writing a soulmate AU, but I decided that a reincarnation one was the only one that makes sense. I read soulmate AU’s a lot, and I love them, it’s just sometimes things don’t add up. Thats why Minghao’s names are different in his past life times, because I feel like that makes the most sense, also I just FINISHED GOBLIN. Which plays with the same idea and I will forever be obsessed with the grim reaper and sunny. THEY WERE SO DAMN CUTE. Someone hold me, I’m still recovering from the drama. 

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etherealbatwing  asked:

Hello! May I please get some HCs for the chocobros and how they would react spending the night with their S/O for the first time? The thing is it was completely by accident that they end up having to do so~

OKAY OKAY, SO I’m bad at this s/o thing bc i much prefer character/character shippy things, so it’s very neutral and if you close your eyes it works for any ship really. BUT I did it?? I think? I DON’T KNOW GUYS. 

After being fussed over by royal attendants all day, then dragged around the Citadel to blocks of princely meetings he paid little mind too, Noctis only wants to feel some semblance of normalcy again. So when he’s had a long day, Noct usually finds himself making evening visits that end with him on their couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, suit jacket slung over the armrest and tie hanging loose against his chest. Popping a few of the buttons open on his dress shirt lets him feel like he can breathe again. He makes a passing mention of having a massive headache, but apparently finds himself well enough to stare at flashy pixels for the rest of the evening; he gets up to turn on the gaming console and grab the two controllers off the entertainment center, tossing the second one at them (the one that will give them the 2nd player screen, because even though it might be their house, he is the prince and he’ll use that as leverage— but only for important things, like making sure he’s got the 1st player, top screen view).

It’s a small activity, filled with sitting close enough to bump shoulders, playing dirty to get ahead, and cursing at each other with a smile on each of their faces, but Noct just wanted this. To come over, play some video games with his favorite person, and unwind— and he does. So much so that when they get up to grab something to drink from the kitchen, they return to find Noctis laying across the couch, controller loosely still set in his hands, head resting where they were previously sitting, out cold. In short, it ends up being an impromptu sleepover.

He’ll wake up, long eyelashes fluttering, with his head in their lap and their hand brushing through his hair. Noctis has a moment of tired deliriousness where he’s trying to figure why the ceiling looks nothing like the one in his room before he catches the other’s gaze. Oh. Right. He shifts in their lap and makes a move to sit back up, only to be gently kept against them. A blush rises against his cheeks as he tries to apologize, his voice a low, sleepy rumble in his chest. They can tell he’s trying to play it off with a cool attitude, but the redness tingeing his ears says otherwise. He’s probably asking a million self-conscious questions in his head, most of which come across as a blow to his imagined nonchalant-ness— he’s worried about snoring too loud, sleeping with his mouth open, drooling on them— but he manages to ask what time it is. 3am. With their hand still in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp, and his eyes closing as he tucks his face against their stomach and sighs, there’s no argument. He might as well stay the rest of the night.

With Prompto, accidentally staying over the first time is unquestionably because of an accident. This boy tries so hard to impress the one he likes and what better way to do so than help them make dinner? He comes over prepared: finds the recipe that morning, picks up all the necessary groceries, and arrives at 6 o’clock sharp to get started. He’s only a little mad at himself for forgetting his “Kiss the Cook” apron at home. Nonetheless, Prompto insists that he do it all himself, arguing that they do too much for him as it is—and maybe he feels a little guilty over the fact that they paid the quite substantial bill for their last diner date at Galdin Quay in its entirety. The least he can do cook a small meal for the two of them. Except it’s not small. And it’s exceedingly more complicated (and expensive) than anticipated; but it’s fine! He’s been watching a lot of cooking shows lately, that’s definitely gonna pay off tonight.

Except none of it is much help when he’s quite a bit flustered being around someone that makes his heart flip in his chest just from meeting his eyes, let alone actually laughing at his stupid puns (‘Penne for your thoughts?’ he said, pouring the penne into the boiling water. And they had actually giggled, like, a real one! Not out of pity!) But the combination of being nervous and jittery while trying to be a literal Bobby Flay, causes him to forget to put the lid on the blender. There’s a quick pulse, a decisively girlish screech, and then silence. There’s now homemade spaghetti sauce splattered over the walls, down the counter, and, mainly, all over Prompto. Down his chest, in his hair and across his face. He thinks for a moment that they’ll be peeved, but when he’s greeted with the sound of laughter and a finger swiping at the line of sauce down his freckled cheek to take a taste, he’s relived if not extraordinarily embarrassed. 

By the time they’ve got his clothes in their washer, him in the shower, and dinner finally done, it’s late; his clothes still need to dry and food still needs to be eaten. When Prompto comes out of the bathroom, hair damp and drooping without any gel, wearing some mismatched amalgamation of their clothes he borrowed, it’s natural to suggest that he spend the night. He agrees, perhaps a bit too eagerly, laughing and watching them break out a jar of spaghetti sauce to replace the one now slowly drying against the wall.

Gladiolus tends to pride himself on being smooth— in some part, it’s the charm that got him in this relationship in the first place— but, damn, is he so much more sweetly conniving than they initially gave him credit for. Usually he finds himself planning dates on the weekends, but when he calls them on a weekday to let them know he’s dropping by their place for a visit after work, they know something’s up. It doesn’t hit them until they’re cuddled up on the couch, hand-in-hand and stomachs full after a junk food filled night of Cup Noodles and a couple beers, watching the nightly news. “A strong storm front moving in bringing periods of light snow throughout the evening, ending in a combination of sleet and freezing ra—“ A dusting of snow had the entire city of Insomnia shutting down, let alone a whole inch. “It is advisable that people stay off the roads if possible and take caution to avoid—“

Gladio pulls them closer to kiss the top of their head and smiles into their hair, “Guess I’m spending the night then?“ And that’s all it takes. Honestly, how had they not seen this coming? He’d planned this since he heard the weather report two days ago; he knows what he’s trying to set up. They have to resist laughing with a roll of their eyes when he excuses himself to grab something out of his car and comes back with a small, pre-packed sports bag filled with spare clothes, a toothbrush, a razor… he is not trying to hide this at all. Talk about over-confident. Yet still strangely coy enough to have never outright asked to spend the night without an excuse? Cute.

The night is spent doing lot of shitty movie watching, finding the worst direct to television productions possible and binging them— everything ranging from one about supernatural sharks, to another about a scorned housewife that plays off like a daytime soap opera. Gladio’s infectious laugh makes them both more than giddy and they find themselves making fun of every little corny line and botched CGI until the credits roll then the early morning block of infomercials start playing. Gladio stands up, back and arm muscles pulling his tattoo taut as he stretches and yawns before hoisting them up too. Tossing them a wink, he declares himself ready for bed and saunters on into their room, shedding his shirt on the way. It’s like he’s lived there the whole time, like this wasn’t something new. The casualness of it all is more than welcoming. 

The shops began closing their doors and the plaza’s usual throngs of people were thinning when Ignis suggests calling it an evening; it’s getting quite late after a long night of a reserved, high-class dining and walking the city streets together, popping in and out of small boutiques and sitting on park benches, watching daring street performers make their living. It’s painfully obvious that Ignis doesn’t often find time to unwind— and, gods, does it take an hour or so to whittle the advisory persona down— but from the way his shoulders slouch far more than usual, the way his lips curve into a smirk instead of a tight line of concentration, the way he backtalks and quips, anyone can see the ease the night has brought him. Being nothing short of an extraordinary gentleman, he’ll offer to drive them back to their place. He outright refuses to let them take the Insomnian subway system at the dead of night.

So the plan was to end the night at their doorstep— walking them up the steps, leaving a chaste kiss against their lips with a promise to see them again soon— except when he retreats, leaving them floating on air in the doorway, watching him get into his car with an almost dorky wave goodbye, Ignis can’t get his stupid royal car to start. Gods, it’s making the saddest little stalling noise and it’s nearing midnight, and Ignis is a little panicked when the ‘check engine’ light turns on. When he’s asked to come inside their house to figure out what to do next, he agrees, a tad defeated. Once inside, they ask him to stay the night— not for sleazy intentions. It’s simply that Hammerhead is far away and overnight towing is expensive. Despite the fact that they know he can pay for it, it seems senseless. Stay the night and wait until morning? 

Ignis feels alight with nerves. He clears his throat and tries a few excuses as to why he shouldn’t stay— it’s not out of ungratefulness, he assures them. Most of what he says is trivial, nervous talking that stems from not wanting to sleep in his clothes, or not having clean clothes to wear the next morning, or disturbing their sleep. He plays it off as being a bother, but, really, he’s reluctant to let them see him not at his best; as if this will change their whole view of him if they see him so undignified in the morning, with his horrendous bedhead and un-pressed clothes. It’s a level of personal that Ignis is not used to anyone seeing. But when their hand is on his, and their waving off his excuses, he’s convinced to stay.

Regardless, they can’t stop him from being so apologetic for imposing on them, acting as if he sabotaged his own car. And, wow, he is so awkward when he crawls into bed with them, murmuring little apologies when his legs, bare from stripping down to his briefs, brushes against theirs. They convince him it’s more than fine by tangling them together to guide him closer into their arms, where he’ll find that he spends the rest of the night.

The Accidental Husband

Part 1 - Breakups and Marriages

Fireman!Dean x Reader

A/N: This is an AU inspired by the namesake movie. It doesn’t follow the same storyline, just the main concept.

Summary: Dean gets dumped and apparently it’s all your fault. That’s why he and Charlie decide that a little payback is not gonna hurt and, if it does, well… then it’s just karma.

Word Count: 1800+

Tags: @mrswhozeewhatsis @why-do-you-want-my-user-name @daydreamingintheimpala @driverpicksthemuusic  @mysoul4dean @thing-you-do-with-that-thing  @amoreagron @spnfangirl1965 @aristtewinchesterholmes @thisisthelilith @chelsea072498 @skymoonandstardust 

Originally posted by frozen-delight

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