i mean look at how beautiful they are

hubby - tom h.

Originally posted by spookymalfoy

author’s note: wow okay I’ve never written for tom holland before but here goes nothing??? I hope you don’t hate this but on the off chance you do, pls hate silently (read more bar is added because I wrote out what come to mind for Tom’s proposal and it made everything look so much longer lmao) 

Also, SARAH I DID IT! CONSIDER ME HYPED™ @cuteparkers


  • Okay but like
  • Can we all just take a minute to imagine what marrying Thomas Stanley Holland would be like
  • Just getting engaged to that boy would be magical
    • He’d have this whole big thing planned
      • Literally every member of the Holland family plus Harrison would be involved in putting things together because if we’re being honest they all loved you just as much as Tom did

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BTS Headcanons: When you’re naturally pretty...

Before we start I want all of you to know that you, indeed, are beautiful. Social standards might make you feel like utter shit, it’s how the world functions. We all have flaws and imperfections but that’s what makes us who we are. You’re beautiful even though I’ve never seen you, inside and out. That’s a promise.

masterlist

If you’re looking at it as a whole, the relationships between BTS and MC are platonic; though you can look at it individually. Without further ado: 

  • You’re never one to wear too much makeup, sometimes opting to wear none at all.
  • People might have been used to how you look, though you weren’t bothered with not receiving compliments too often.
  • Of course, the only exception are the boys.
  • They’ll make sure to compliment you at least two times a day!
  • But, really, you do the same for them.
  • Seokjin likes to feign defeat around you, often exclaiming how your beauty easily outshines his whole existence. You’d say that it’s rather too extra of him to do so, though he would never stop so—usually his dramatic words are accompanied with his body draping over yours or him clutching his own heart.
  • Sometimes you won’t believing him, concluding that it was all a joke and act as usual, and when he notices this it’s ensued that he’d reassure you, proclaiming that, yes, you are beautiful—both your image and soul.
  • Yoongi isn’t one to voice his thoughts about beauty and facial features. Really, the man would rather not step foot in that lane, though he acknowledges how pretty you are, smiling to himself whenever others would mention your looks.
  • You don’t need his words because him caring about you is enough as a stand alone to make you feel like the most special being in the universe let alone pretty.
  • Hoseok is a bit of a tease, really. He has creases from permanently smiling and laughing so much, perfectly hand in hand with that mischief in his eyes; it’s the result of constantly teasing the others and you—specifically how (Y/n) is just so pretty, prettier than worldwide handsome!
  • He’d say that it’s worth it in the end, despite having an outraged Jin at his tail; and, hey, he made you smile and laugh.
  • Namjoon would be the kind similar to Yoongi; never directly remarking what he sees and thinks. Of course, that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t acknowledge your looks, though he isn’t exactly a materialist. 
  • Once he might have expressed his thoughts, albeit he fumbled with his words, “(Y/n), yes, I think you’re really pretty but I don’t, uh, want you thinking that it’s the only reason we’re friends? God, no, please don’t think of me as that asshole, please—”
  • Jimin will use every single opportunity to remind you of how beautiful you are, and he’d use the excuse of missing you so much. You’d catch his drift and end up complimenting him back, and you swear that he made it a challenge then which resulted in an everlasting war between you two.
  • But he won’t back down. Ever. He wants to have the last word. Unfortunately for witnesses you’re just as stubborn.
  • Taehyung might be chill about it. It’s a given that he, too, is a little teasing shit much like his Hoseok-hyung but he knows how to be cool about it. He’s the type of person to value things in life, to just say it as innocently as possible with best intent in mind, of course.
  • Though, for one reason or another I see him comparing your beauty to other things in the cheesiest way possible, “you truly outshine every star that twinkles,” and the boy deadpans this, doesn’t even bat an eyelash because he definitely means it.
  • Jungkook would be on the same page as Jimin, ultimately wanting to provide and not having anything in return from you, though he might be a bit aggressive with it considering how competitive he is.
  • Then again, imagine the nerves he had to bundle up to actually express anything close to emotion due to how shy this little bunny is. Though, once he gets rolling he ain’t stopping until his kill streak is satisfying enough for him(I’m a video game nerd, don’t hold it against me).
  • The boys would really want to make you feel loved and a part of their family, that’s a given with how kind and amazing they are. 

letjonsnownap  asked:

Can you write something where all the Targs are still alive and The Starks come to court, and Aerys is a total creep to Sansa, so Jon comforts her in the gardens later??

@letjonsnownap here’s your fic drabble that somehow turned into a 5k story!

***

Jon Targaryen was not meant for Sansa Stark.

Rhaegar had arranged for Lady Stark to travel to King’s Landing. She was to be presented as a candidate for betrothal to Aegon. Sansa’s mother and father would accompany her.

The castle’s hallways buzzed the day the Starks arrived. Jon stood next to Viserys and Aegon, the Iron Throne looming behind them.

Jon had grown accustomed to attractive girls appearing at court. Margaery Tyrell, the “Rose of Highgarden,” had shocked the throne room last month with her scandalous attire.

But Sansa Stark took Jon’s breath away when the crowd parted to give her passage.

Sansa was beautiful, poised, graceful in her lavender gown. She curtsied to the court. The lords and ladies looking down from the balcony murmured as she stood.

Rhaegar welcomed her. King Aerys had “fallen ill”, as he did more and more often these days before highborn families came to King’s Landing. Rhaegar had decided that a raving, drooling king did not inspire confidence in the realm, and had deftly sequestered Aerys in his rooms.

“It is an honor to meet you, Lady Sansa. You must dine with us tonight. We’ve prepared a feast in your honor.”

Jon bit back his frustration. The Starks had traveled far, but Rhaegar wouldn’t give them a single night to recover from their journey.  That was his father’s way. If Rhaegar was ready to drink and dance, the court would follow suit, and entertain him.

***

The great hall was transformed that evening. Candlelight illuminated the room. The dining tables were heaped with golden dishes. Musicians were stationed in the corners, making sure there would be a “merry mood,” as Jon’s father liked to say. The dance floor was polished to a shine.

Jon resisted the urge to scratch the black wool on his arm. The Targaryens at the high table were dressed in their most expensive black and red finery. Rhaegar had forbidden members of the court from wearing House Targaryen’s colors, so the royal family would stand out “like jewels in a setting.”

Jon rather thought they looked like a slightly ridiculous small army, especially because Daenerys and Rhaenys were visiting Dorne.

Aegon was the picture of courtesy when the evening began. He briefly lavished attention on Sansa, kissing her hand, telling her how lovely she looked. He danced with her only a few times, though, before he got well into his cups. Jon sighed. He’d seen this before, and he was sure he’d see it again. Aegon found the girl dull, and had dismissed her.

Sansa resumed her seat next to her father. She seemed withdrawn, thought you had to look closely to see it. Jon’s heart went out to her.

“Gods, stop mooning,” Viserys hissed into his ear. Jon could smell the wine on his breath. “Go talk to her. I’m sure Rhaegar won’t mind. You’re her cousin. Family bonds and all that.”

Jon glanced over at his father.

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Misunderstandings

A short story based off the song “Jolene” by Dolly Parton with a sapphic twist,  featuring a bisexual Brazilian heroine.

Tagging: @nolabird@smithy-smith, @carriewhiteburnsinhell, @mymblelife, @princessfangface, @imaginedsoldier, @mostbittern, @spondees

Luisa pokes at her stomach as she stares at herself.  No, she doesn’t suppose she is very beautiful; maybe her hair is nice, black and curly, but that’s about it.  Her belly is round and her legs are short. Her face is a moon, and not in a good way.  She’s just too round to be beautiful, and lacking in height.  Still, Bruno is her husband, and no one, not even the stunning Jolene, is going to take him away.

Luisa has arranged to meet with Jolene, to confront her.  To be fair, Luisa has very little proof.  Jolene’s fleeting glances and Bruno’s calling out the other woman’s name in his sleep is what fuels Luisa’s suspicions, and that in itself is not proof.

Of course, she does not want to confront the town’s most beautiful woman, with her flaming auburn hair and her emerald green eyes.  Yes, Jolene is beautiful, and kind, and there’s something intimidating about the way she stares at Luisa.  It’s too intense.  And then she looks at Bruno with so much longing.

There must be something.  This can’t just be in Luisa’s head like Bruno says.  But of course he would say that, wouldn’t he, if there were something…

Luisa rolls her eyes and shakes out her curls, pouts her lips and slaps her cheeks. Well. This will have to do.

Luisa gets to Jolene’s apartment complex a full ten minutes before she said she would be there. Maybe she gave herself too much time for the walk, but being early is better than being late, right? Honestly, Luisa is not looking forward to this talk.  She doesn’t want to seem eager or desperate, but she is. She is.

She steels herself, finds courage from somewhere, and rings the doorbell.

It doesn’t work.

Luisa resists the urge to stamp her foot and instead bites her lip hard enough to hurt. Then she takes a deep breath, and knocks.

She hears a thump followed by a crash, a loud meow, and a muffled Shit! The door opens suddenly, a flurry of red curls making Luisa step back.

“Hi, Luisa!” Jolene’s voice is breathless, and her smile is like a breath of spring.  Luisa wants to be angry, but it’s difficult when Jolene is looking at her like that, all intense-like.

“Um… Hi Jolene.  Can I come in?”

“Hi, yeah, of course just, oh fuck, get out of the way Charlie!” A ginger tabby winds its way around Luisa’s feet and promptly flops onto the welcome mat.

Luisa giggles.  “Your cat is cute.”

Jolene blows a lock of hair out of her eyes as she picks Charlie up off where he’s lounging on the floor and shrugs.  “He’s fat and lazy and I love him.” She buries her face into his fur and places him on her shoulder.  He perches, a king sat upon his mistress.  

The absurdity of it makes Luisa want to scream.  This woman is trying to steal her man, and Luisa is marvelling at how cute she is with her cat. What is wrong with her?  She feels heat rush to her face.

You’re just nervous, Luisa.  Get a grip.  Make your intentions known; stop being the meek little mouse everyone thinks you are.  Your marriage is on the line!

“You alright, Lu?”

Luisa shakes her head and clears her throat.  “Allergies.  Hayfever is a bitch.”

Jolene smiles knowingly and then gasps.  “Oh, come in, come in.  Haha, sorry. I do that sometimes when I’m nervous.”

Luisa hesitates over the threshold.  Nervous?  Pelo amor de Deus,  pleasepleasepleaseplease don’t let there be anything going on between them.

“I, uh, didn’t know if you’d be hungry, so I made some coffee and cookies. I know you’re always on a diet, but you know, you don’t need to be, you’re lovely just the way you are, and one cookie can’t hurt can it? And like, of course, if you don’t want one, please don’t feel pressured, they’re just there just in case you’re hungry, and–”

“Jolene?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s dispense with the pleasantries.  You know why I’m here.”

Jolene flushes and steps back, swallowing.  “Wow, right to it, huh?  Okay.  Um. I’ve never done this before. With a married woman, I mean.”  Even in the admission of her guilt, her voice is soft like summer rain.  It’s infuriating. And she’s smiling.  Sem vergonha!  How can she be so confident?

Still, it’s odd wording.  Luisa bites her lip and looks straight at Jolene.  “I know you want him.”

Jolene jolts at this.  “What?”

“My husband is a good man, but even he can’t resist your charms.  You’re so beautiful…” Luisa sighs, then continues, “and he is only a man.  But you could have anyone, Jolene.”

Jolene shakes her head, and desperation sets in.  “You have to understand.  He is my husband and I need him.”

“You’re mistaken, Luisa, I would never–”

“I know you have!  Tonight confirms everything!  Please, I’m not beautiful like you.  He’s my husband. He’s my husband.  I love him.”

Jolene tilts her head, and shakes it.  “Do you?”

“What?”

“Do you love him?

The cheek of it!  “Of course I do!”

Jolene’s mouth transforms into a line and she runs her hand through her hair.  Charlie has long since disappeared into the depths of Jolene’s little apartment.  “I think we need to clear something up.  I’m not going to steal your man away like some whatever it is you think I am.  I would never do that to you.”

“Please don’t lie to me.  Besides, I know something is going on.  Bruno…” Luisa has to swallow her pride, but her voice shakes.  “He talks about you in his sleep. There’s nothing I can to to keep from crying when he calls your name. I can’t compete with you, Jolene.”

Silence stretches before them, and then Jolene’s lip curls. “He doesn’t deserve you, or your loyalty.” Jolene takes a deep breath, and continues, “I could be good to you.”  It’s so quiet, Luisa almost thinks she imagines it.

“What.”

Jolene bites her lip, and her earlier resentment is replaced with naked sincerity.  “I could be good to you.  Loyal and good.  You deserve at least that.”

Luisa stands, suddenly dizzy.

“You… but you… but what about Bruno? Don’t you—”

“Fuck Bruno.  I want you.  I thought I was being very clear.  I thought you were coming here to tell me you wanted me, too.”

“What the fuck…”

Jolene laughs, but it sounds sad.  “Yeah.  That’s been my entire evening. A beautiful woman I thought wanted me instead wants me to keep away from her creep of a husband.”

“He’s not–”

Jolene shoots her an incredulous look, and Luisa concedes.  “Okay, he can be a little macho.”

“A little? Luisa, please.”

The silence stretches between them, pregnant with possibility.  

“I don’t understand,” Luisa says.

“I’m a lesbian.”

“No, I got that bit.  I mean the rest.  Why do you look at me like you hate me sometimes?  And why do you look at Bruno like you want him?”

Jolene closes her eyes and clenches her teeth.  “I think you have that mixed up.  I look at him like I want to be him. I think.  And you?  I look at you like you’re a beautiful woman whose husband neglects her.  I get so angry when I think about him going after other women.”

“What?”

“Well, he went after me.  I told him no, of course, which I don’t think he’s used to hearing.”

“What?”

“Oh, Luisa.  He’s been doing this since you two started dating back five years ago. You must’ve known.”

“You’re just saying that.  You’re just saying that because–”

“Hon, do you really believe that?”

“I need to go.”

“Of course.” Jolene stands to let her out, but Luisa is already stumbling out of the living room, to the corridor, and through the door.

She gets a quarter of the way home before bursting into tears.

Bruno notices nothing, but then, of course he wouldn’t.  He married the good Catholic girl to make his parents happy–and probably because she wouldn’t put out.  That’s it, and she sees it now.  How could she have missed it?  

The sex is mechanical as always, and of course, if she wants to orgasm, she’s got to take care of it herself.  

Kisses feel slobbery, and when he grabs her, she is aware it’s a possessive embrace, not a lover’s.  It’s for the benefit of the men in their life, for them to know that she belongs to him.  It makes her feel sick.

As ever, Jolene’s presence looms over them, but for different reasons.  Luisa begins to imagine what it would be like if Jolene were between her legs and not her husband.  If her kisses are soft, or just as gross as Bruno’s.

It drives her crazy, until one day, she makes a decision.

Luisa finds herself at Jolene’s door three weeks after that fateful Saturday.  She doesn’t really know what she’s doing here, but she knows she’s had a bath, and she knows she’s curled her hair with the curling iron, and she’s wearing her nicest dress and her pair of sexy underwear.  Probably nothing will happen, but she knows that if it does, she wants to be prepared.  

She tries the doorbell, and of course it doesn’t work, so she knocks.

When Jolene opens the door, her red curls are held up with a paintbrush, and she has a smear of paint on her face.  Luisa is endeared.

“What are you–”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Luisa enters, and closes the door behind her.  Jolene is stood biting her lip, and staring at Luisa with what can only be wariness.

“What’s up?” Jolene finally manages.

“You, um… I came to apologize.”

“Oh.”

Her face falls, so Luisa continues, “And, um, maybe…. maybe my happiness depends on you.”

Jolene sighs, agitation plain in her eyes.

“I told you, Luisa. I’m not going after your—”

“No! No, no that’s not what I meant. I meant… you said that you could be good to me.”

“What?”

Luisa resists the urge to laugh and instead, inches forward. She is unsure, but Jolene stays where she is, only mild surprise gracing her features. Their faces are moments from each other’s when Jolene closes the gap, her lips soft and firm.  Luisa forgets to check and see if Jolene drools on her like Bruno.  She’s caught up in the softness of Jolene, the half-light of the hall, the sounds of their lips coming together in worship.  Her knees feel like they’re going to give, and it is then that Jolene breaks away.

She takes Luisa’s hand, softly, reverently.  “You sure?”

Luisa nods.  If she wasn’t before, she certainly is now.

Jolene smiles, that brilliant spring-smile of hers, and Luisa follows her deeper into the apartment.

She doesn’t leave until evening.

anonymous asked:

Hey, I'm getting pretty annoyed at people for saying this like "as a lesbian you can't have an opinion whether a man is attractive" or other lesbians telling straight women they "can't have an opinion" on men. I mean, being lesbian does not equal being blind? I grew up with media influence, I KNOW what is considered attractive in men, I can judge how a man looks. I might not be attracted TO him, but I surely can have an opinion? Gay men get to judge women, after all? Are even considered - part 1

part 2 - fashion gurus? Straight women search their advice on clothing etc? But the moment a lesbian dares have an opinion on how a man looks her whole sexuality is called into question? I know it’s a minor thing but it makes me angry, I feel like I can’t even offer my opinion in a conversation with straight women anymore. And honestly, I really feel like it doesn’t invalidate my sexuality at all to be able to see if a man is conventionally attractive or not.

Lesbians are under constant scrutiny. Society being phallocentric, they cannot even fathom a sexuality that doesn’t revolve around penises. So they will take any sign of interest from a lesbian for men as a sign of her heterosexuality. This is why it is so policed at all times.

Now, as you say, lesbians do have eyes, and many of us have learned over the years how to recognize a male who fit beauty standards - doesn’t make us any less lesbians. There’s also the reverse tbh, lesbians who are so unbothered, that men all look the same (this is my case). And that’s just okay as well. The two can coexist, that doesn’t mean that lesbians who recognize that a man fits beauty standards are less lesbians than those who don’t care or don’t see it.

Thank you for sharing with us, because I feel like it’s often overlooked. Recognizing a man is considered beautiful =/= sexual attraction to said man.

Mod C.

i think a lot about aging and how freeing/empowering it can be for women and has been for me, and i’m thinking about what it means that so much of the culture’s thin mandate and beauty ideal are about keeping women looking & acting young. and i truly don’t think this is an #aesthetic, i think this is the power dynamic that it behooves patriarchal systems to maintain. (not that young women themselves serve the patriarchy, but like Youth as an ideal)

aging women who follow the natural* course of caring less about how they look or what people think are more self-actualized in general, and less suggestible consumers. i mean that ship has sailed, we can’t meet the ideal anymore. 

but those of us who do keep caring and buying and trying to stay young - that is, tractable, supple, less fully developed/embodied - miss out on the reality and gift and power of our age. we give those up in the hope of getting some approval or safety that’s never coming and was never even real back when (if) we met the criteria.

and idk there’s some ill-defined feeling here, when i in my 30s see e.g. a model in her teens who looks like she’s in her pre-teens i just ache not only bc i can’t be that and must therefore relinquish the Dream lol but mainly bc i love the power & freedom that aging has offered me and i hate how difficult it was to get here and how many women will miss out on not giving a fuck in order to hang on to a time of life that is less threatening to the established systems of power 

I don’t think I’ve ever met someone quite as beautiful as this young woman. Not just in her outer appearance but in her inner beauty as well. As cheesy as it sounds, we really do complete each other—my mother used to tell me you should never settle for less than you deserve and you should never settle for anything less than what’s meant to be. For us both, this is simply meant to be. We’re two peas in a pod and now, after so much heartache from both ends we’ve found our ways to each other. She’s beautiful not for just her looks but for being just as she is. She doesn’t try to be anyone or anything she isn’t and I find that to be one of the most beautiful things you can possibly be in this world–simply just yourself. She does not promote herself, meaning she doesn’t boast about her looks or how wonderful of a person she is–she simply knows who she is and keeps quiet. She’s beautiful for her peaceful, quiet, and gentle spirit. She isn’t competitive or vengeful, just graceful. She loves fiercely and loyally, she’s very tenacious and doesn’t give up. She’s stubborn and believes strongly in herself and her opinions but doesn’t push them onto others or make them believe that they have to believe the same thing she does. Most of all, she has what so many others don’t have–she has the grace and willpower to spread love to everyone she touches and meets. I knew from the moment I met her that my life was never going to be the same, in fact my brain was telling me “oh no, this one might be trouble. You better stay away.” but my heart was telling me “If you do, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” and I’m glad that I listened to my heart and not my brain that day. I’m rambling I feel but I just wanted her to know how much she is loved and appreciated. @itsblakebvtch

anonymous asked:

Iwaizumi Haijme

character: hate them | don’t really care | like them | LOVE them | THEY ARE MY PRECIOUS

ship with: Oikawa, in case you couldn’t guess lmfao

brotp: I really like him and Kuroo being bros and shit

general opinions: I love his eyes and his voice. Voice is a biggy for me. I love how much he fiercely cares for Oikawa, even if its just in a platonic way, and I love the way he looked when they lost against Karasuno, with his lips trembling and tears gathering around those beautiful beautiful eyes

blog rate: 10/10 (idk what this means but like whatever lol)

I like to remind everyone that Sad Beautiful Tragic is a poetic MASTERPIECE

Words how little they mean when you’re a little too late

Good girls, hopeful they’ll be, and long they will wait

Time is taking its sweet time erasing you

And you’ve got your demons and darling they all look like me

Distance, timing, breakdown, fighting, silence, this train runs off its tracks

KISS ME, TRY TO FIX IT, COULD YOU JUST TRY TO LISTEN, HANG UP, GIVE UP, FOR THE LIFE OF US WE CAN’T GET BACK

GUYS I FIGURED IT OUT

Okay so you know how in Beauty in the Beast…

This lady can’t afford six eggs, which always struck me as a little odd but I figured maybe that was normal in a poor French village. I mean, look at all the little kids she has; she probably struggles to afford any kind of food that would feed all of them… Right?

But later we discover something interesting about Gaston:

Gaston eats five dozen eggs every day. That’s 60 eggs. SIXTY. Which adds up to 420 eggs per week. No wonder this poor village doesn’t have enough of them to go around!

Gaston, who is very well-respected and successful and probably makes good money from his fabulous hunting skills, is cornering the entire egg market. To feed his addiction, he probably has to constantly go around and buy out every farmer’s supply of eggs, which causes the price on any remaining eggs to skyrocket.

Gaston is singlehandedly destroying the town’s economy.

Way to go, Gaston. You may be popular, but I’m sure that at least the chicken farmers were relieved when you fell to your death.

Can we take a moment to appreciate how well done this scene was. The music was somber and beautiful, and the colors complimented the mood wonderfully. It was truly emotional.

I mean look at

How powerful

How heartbreaking this is

Seriously, look at her face

And tell me you did not cry

When her last shred of hope had been crushed

When people go off about how English is the worst language, I just wanna point out a few things:

- Our future tense requires only one word (looking at you, Spanish)

- Words don’t change meanings depending on tone (Cantonese)

- We don’t live in some bizarre Beauty And The Beast world where we give inanimate objects genders (romance languages, German)

- Likewise, we don’t have have two different words for “they” because we don’t care whether “they” were male or female (Spanish, French)

- There’s no formal “you” because we don’t play mind games about whether or not we respect you (Spanish, German)

- We don’t alter the whole fucking language based on how much we respect you (Japanese)

- The letters and sounds might not be consistent, but at least we have letters, not just pictures (Mandarin)

- We don’t have a fucking stupid tense specifically for talking to two people because some idiot decided that a two-person tense was necessary (Arabic)

So yeah, I think we’re doing okay as a language

8

I think I can deal with it, but I kept going through it. Until one day only a few years ago, I thought I cannot deal with it. This is holding me back in life. This is not how I’m supposed to be and I want to overcome it. So I looked back at my life, at the things that may have made me this way that I could change the baggage that I was holding on to and said, “I don’t need you anymore!

It’s so important to know you should be happy and proud of who you are. (x)

“Have you seen people in all sides?” she asked. “I mean when you look at that girl with her back towards you, would you consider her as beautiful? Would you think that she’s kind? Would you see all the wonderful things she’s been keeping inside? And have you ever looked at a guy next to you, with his side facing you? Without seeing his eyes, would you say that he’s a gentleman? That he can tell you all the secrets of his mind.” she smiled lightly and continued, “You know sometimes, I wondered how people could just judge someone so easily without even seeing their hidden sides—without considering to stare on different perspectives. I know, sometimes I get mad and just blurt out everything. I know I did a lot of bad things, too. But I just can’t help myself on wondering, how people love ignoring some things they never wanted to see”.
—  ma.c.a // Have you seen yourself, wholely?

I love how in Moana they don’t give a fuck Moana is a girl. I mean her parents weren’t trying to find her a husband, or weren’t trying for a BROTHER. They were so chill she’s gonna be the chief. Even tho they only mentioned male chiefs (i mean who were before her dad) but no one even questions that she is a girl. She is daughter of the chief and it means she’s gonna be the next chief. And i think it’s beautiful.

And I absolutely love how her hair looks. So natural. Not this perfect hair style disney princesses usually have, but super natural messy look.

Has it ever occurred to anyone just how diverse and beautiful the eye colours of the Camp Camp characters are? Like…


Look at them! And we have rare colours too!


Nikki has pinkish red eyes which is an actual thing! And Gwen has eyes like Elizabeth Taylor. An EXTREMELY RARE eye colour. See?

Look at how gorgeous they were!

You know who else has a really rare eye colour? Preston.

Amber eyes are often mistaken for Hazel, and they’re gorgeous.

These are just a few of the many eye colours but you see what I mean?

i know the best places to throw myself so that
when i hit the ground, the hurt sticks

i know how to open these bones with just my teeth and 
a gold credit card and 

last night was beautiful i barely ate and when i cried
nobody heard me 

i’m sorry i’m a messy lover i’m sorry that i come as 
an expired body, already worn and already

unbecoming  —
i mean 

i told you and myself and my mom and anybody that would listen
that no i wouldn’t go back there again but

i woke up in this place where the light is eating through my eyelids
and yesterday i almost told you everything, how i’ve been a house of spiders

and none of them are interested in helping me live
but

you look like a knife and i am looking 
to get rid of myself

come kiss me, nevermind, i’m fine, it’s just a long day,
ignore the shaking and ignore the ache in my voice

i’m fine, it’s fine, shit happens in storms and we’re just
caught in the middle of one 

i don’t mean to be annoying it’s just 
not even breathing feels effortless

and i want to be someone who isn’t a burden,
who goes like smoke, who carries no weight

who whips out of your life,
never leaves footprints.