man heels

i’m in my prime,
not withering and old.
but i refuse to play
your wicked games any longer.

i know this tether is unbreakable,
but you make me feel like i’m interchangeable.
you drew a target on my heart,
when did this become fatal attraction?

i don’t have the strength,
the energy,
nor the patience
to be held hostage by your love.

so baby please don’t despair
when i say that
i’ve found the courage to
let you go.

you were never meant to be tied down in the first place.

—  believing i could love you was my mistake, c.j.n.


Why is it socially acceptable for a woman to dress like a “man”? Masculine. Wear her hair short, wear pants, suits even and it be acceptable.

But for a man to dress like a “woman” it’s vile. Weak. Unnatural. Disgusting even?

Women are equal to men. In strength. Ability. Creativity. And their fashion, despite what society thinks, should be available to anyone.

I don’t mind wearing dresses. Frankly, because I look fabulous in them. But more importantly because I’m perfectly fine being associated with everything a woman stands for.

Because women are fucking awesome.

Raising Princess Leia was probably all kinds of crazy adventures sometimes

“You can’t make me look!” The five year old princess stomped her foot. “He’ll steal my face!”

“Sweetheart, it’s just a painting,” Bail tried not to cringe in front of the Imperial officer. “It’s not going to steal your face, I promise.”

“Your daughter has a problem with our Emperor, Viceroy?” There was an icy undertone in the officer’s voice that warned that a misstep here could prove costly.

“It’s not the Emperor,” Queen Breha gave the man a winning smile and smoothed Leia’s hair. “She’s skittish around portraits in general.”

“The eyes follow me! They’re gonna stick me in a frame too!” Leia protested, understanding even at her age that it was better to play up her childish side.

Breha thought that the Imperial still looked unconvinced, and so with a silent apology to her daughter she added, “She’s also convinced that she has a little brother who was stolen by goblins. We’re still not certain where she picked up that idea.”

The officer nodded with thinly veiled disgust. “Perhaps you should take more care to monitor who your daughter spends time with, Queen Breha.” The pompous man turned on his heel and stalked away to terrorize someone else in the gallery.

The Organas breathed a collective sigh of relief and Bail swept Leia up into his arms.
“Well done, my Leia,” he whispered. “But from now on, you must be careful what you say about the emperor when there are people about.”

Leia tugged at the braiding on his sleeve and frowned. “It’s still ugly, Papa. It’s not a good painting.”

Bail struggled for words. “It’s…an Impressionist piece, I think.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means that the artist was under the impression that it looked good,” Breha said dryly. Bail stifled a snort, but did not comment to the contrary.

Bidding perfunctory farewells to the host, the Queen and Viceroy slipped out, making excuses of an overtired kindergartener. Mon Mothma had been able to slip a data chip into Bail’s hand in passing and he had no intention of sticking around to be caught with it. As they met with their bodyguards and strapped themselves into the transport, Leia piped up again.

“Goblins are real though. And they do steal babies.”

She took the twitch on her father’s face as evidence that she was right and that the grown-ups just didn’t want to admit it.

Living with ADHD is sometimes gives me pleasant surprises like “oh look I already got a spoon for my coffee apparently”.

A concept: 

  • Clary teaching Izzy all about the mundane world and pop culture and showing her cheesy music from the 90’s like the Spice Girls and the Backstreet Boys 
  • Izzy teaching Clary all about the shadow world and how to kill a man in 6 inch heels and loads of interesting forensic facts like how to tell the time of death from insect activity
  • Izzy encouraging Clary to keep painting and drawing and creating (and sketching her ofc)
  • Clary praising and complimenting Izzy and letting her know how amazing and important she is to her despite her insecurities 
  • Izzy and Clary going on little day trips to the park and the zoo and other places so Izzy can experience the mundane world and Clary can find inspiration for her drawings (even though she just ends up sketching Izzy 99% of the time) 
  • Clary and Izzy sitting up all night talking and sharing secrets until the sun finally starts to peak through the curtains 
  • Izzy thinking Clary looks even more beautiful first thing in the morning all sleep rumpled and soft when she wakes up beside her after accidentally falling asleep 
  • Clary smiling when Izzy attempts to make her pancakes even though they are lumpy and slightly imperfect 
  • Izzy smiling and listening patiently when Clary confides in her that she might just like girls in a non platonic way 
  • Clary thinking Izzy tastes like mint toothpaste and sunshine when she kisses her afterwards 

  • just….. clizzy being soft girlfriends ok????

Black and Gold 

 Part One Warnings - swearing, mentions of violence, depression and anxiety.    _______

It was like a pounding, almost like a drum bouncing against my skull, crushing it down onto my brain mercilessly. It was dark, specks of white throbbed in the corner of it but it didn’t make out a shape or sound, it just flickered in the same place.

There was a firm grip on my arms, and I felt deathly cold, frozen almost. My body was being dragged along the floor, being held up at my arms whilst my legs were pulled along behind. My heart was dull, the beating quickened with each breath of air I allowed into my lungs, slowly pulling me back to life.

Then, like a wave, it hit me. The kidnap, experimentation and torture, every memory pushed to the front of my mind and I felt myself snap like a twig underneath a boot, easily and with little control. My eyes groaned open into slits, silently wincing at the bright lights of the corridor, feeling tingled in the tips of my fingers like pins being stabbed into a cushion. My heart rate throbbed in my chest, threatening to break out as my narrowed golden orbs took in my surroundings as my ears focused back into reality.

Alarms were going off everywhere, soldiers rushing around with guns in their hands and violent words leaving their mouths as they stared at me with wide eyes as my carriers pulled me through a set of swinging doors. My body showed no sign of life other than my twitching fingers and my tanned complexion returning to my skin once more.

I suddenly felt wide awake, the blood pumping through my veins telling me one thing like a devil on my shoulder. I listening to the voice with a smirk playing on my lips, letting the room go silent before swinging my weight to propel me into the air before landing behind my carriers who froze in their places, their hands slowly sketching toward their pistols. Before they could grab their weapons they fell to the floor as I pulled their hearts from their bodies, the organs falling into my palms making them red with the colour of death.

The corridor was empty for only a moment before a whole squadron of men fled into the narrow path, their guns poised and ready to fire if necessary. They never got the chance, my mind ripped the weapons from their grasps and made them point at their previous owners before opening fire, the walls painted with blood, lifeless bodies scattered across the ground.

A slow and lonely applause echoed through the hallway, then he appeared at the end with a sickly smile and haunting gaze which had the ability to make me shrink into nothing, “Wolf, oh my little Golden Wolf,” he mocked as he approached me, the lights flickering overhead with each step he took. I didn’t dare to move as he circled me like a predator, the man who took everything from me stood before me with a look in his eye which could bury anyone six feet under. My captor darted forward and took my face in his hand, forcing our eyes to connect as he searched them, extracting every little secret in my body like a game, “We are under attack, you’re abilities are about to be tested, Little One,” his grip was hard, and cold, the throbbing of my skin indicated I would have some form of bruising there later.

“Yes Sir,” it came out as a mere whisper and he scoffed before snatching my arm and leading me to a room at the opposite end of the hallway, pushing me inside and turning the lights on.

The blinking lights illuminated a suit made from black leather with gold stitching, it had a high neck and looked extremely tight. Next to the suit sat heeled combat boots and a pair of fingerless gloves made from leather, again with gold patterns on the material, “Get changed,” he ordered and I did as I was asked, peeling myself from my other clothes and throwing myself into the unwelcoming suit which glued to my skin. My master came up from behind me in my reflection, covering my mouth with some kind of guard which started at my chin and ended just below my eyes, it was also black, “Now go.”

Without another word I headed through the facility, soldiers of the cause split like the red sea as I passed, they whispered to one another about it being my first time fighting outside of training. Black doors entered my vision as I rounded the corner, explosions and gunfire piercing through the walls, pounding them like drums. My eyes morphed into a darker shade of gold as my outstretched palms slammed the doors wide open to reveal a battlefield littered with bodies and craters in the soil, smoke rose above the tree line and coated the sky in black. My feet carried me out of the facility, men dressed in their uniforms fell behind me in shock as my dark waves fell down and framed my face.

A screaming battlefield turned deadly silent, everything seemed to stop moving, to stop breathing. A group of people I didn’t recognise paced into a clearing and stared me down, one of them in particular wore the red star on his metal arm, the star of my captors. My eyebrows dipped in confusion but I shook it off as quickly as it came as I continued to pace toward them, fire lingering behind my dark gold orbs. Once they realised that I wasn’t stopping, a woman wearing a red trench coat stepped forward with some kind of red energy pulsing between her palms in a warning. The woman threw her energy at me but stood in horror when it didn’t effect me, instead she brewed another batch of her red mass and turned to her comrades, “I can’t stop it,” she cried in her thick accent as my eyes zoned into her body, my mind penetrating her own like darts on a board.

The woman stood stuck in place, shaking uncontrollably as she fought to take back her body from my grasp. From the corner of my eye, a metal figure flew overhead, shooting his blasters at me but failing when the ricocheted off of me and back into his direction, sending him tumbling to the ground. My lips wore a smirk, not that they could see it.

A body moved behind me, it was large and menacing but I turned and grabbed its green fist in my palm before it was able to strike me. It looked confused but angry, my free hand touched its forehead and it fell to a lump on the forest floor. With a sigh I turned to face my foes again, the man with the metal arm had moved closer to me, examining me, “Why are you helping them?”

His friend was surprised at my words, how I was english and proudly so, the man with black hair frowned, “What?” His eyes followed my pointing finger to the star on his arm, “I used to belong to HYDRA, I managed to break free,” his words struck something within me, something which made my control on the witch drop.

I took a step forward, “Break free, how?” I asked him, my voice muffled by the covering over my mouth.

“Get out of there, Wolf, come back now-” with a growl I ripped the earpiece out of my ear, crushing it beneath my heeled boot.

The man with the red star sent me a look, wide eyes, “They didn’t wipe you?”

A chuckle left my lips, “Many times since they caught me,” I paused, “What year is it?”

There was a shield latched onto his friend’s arm, he slotted it onto his back, “It’s 2017,” a shallow breath passed between my lips, “When did they take you? Why didn’t their tactics work on you like they did with my friend?”

I blinked hard and my mouth felt oddly dry, “It was 1945, the day the war ended,” I paused, looking around, “They pumped that much shit into me that it made it impossible for them to wipe me, everything would come back, I wouldn’t comply, they tortured me to get me to fear them,” the birds sang in the trees and a soft smile found my lips.

Then, total darkness.


Felt like revamping the GhostHunter!AU boys

Marco is an actual puppy in dark grungy clothing, and Eren is a shaggy wolf with too-small tshirts

But what’s Armin holding, and why is Jean levitating a small rock?? who knoowwsss <( ̄︶ ̄)>