poms team

ID #43533

Name: JoJo
Age: 15
Country: USA

Hi!! I’m JoJo and I live in Littleton, Colorado. I’m 15 and I am about to end my freshman year of high school. I’m apart of the LGBT community and I’m open minded for anything. I absolutely LOVE books and writing. I also love to dance and I’m a part of my high school’s Poms team. I plan to travel a lot when I’m older, so I’m constantly talking about it. I’m a huge nerd, so if you’re willing to listen to rants about miscellaneous things such as books or current events than we’ll get along great! I’d also love to hear any of your rants! I’m currently learning Spanish (Spanish 1 for the win!) so it would be awesome if you wanted to help me! I would also love to start learning another language (literally any language) and help with that would be much appreciated! I would love to talk to someone from a different country, but if you’re from the states that’s totally fine too! Basically I’m just looking for someone who I can form a friendship with, learn new things from, and obsess over my love for cats with.

Preferences: Ages 14-18, open minded and just generally nice people, gender doesn’t matter to me, respectful of my opinions, loves animals (especially cats lol)

I’ve mentioned it a few times and it is eating up my drawing time, so I thought I’d provide a pile of progress as evidence that SOMETHING is actually getting done. Gonna be a stately Japanese mafia gentleman (sorta). I’m actually 70% sure it’ll look reasonably cool in the end despite me having to rush.

Frankie 

for @chowderweek

Also on AO3


Chris doesn’t have a nickname—not one he likes, anyway.

He’s so used to hearing “Christopher”, never Chris. He’s Christopher because there’s three other boys with his name in class. One of them gets called Chrissy because he’s cute and girls like him. One of them gets called Christian. Chris Moore gets to be Chris. He doesn’t have to change his name, or even use the first initial of his name. Moore gets to be Chris while Chris Chow is known as Christopher in class. He’s known as “son” and “meanie pants” at home.

He plays hockey. Nicknames are different there. For a while he goes by Topher, which makes him more confused when he goes between class and practice. It’s a mess. He doesn’t feel like himself when he’s outside his house.

He starts high school. It’s private and the hockey team is one of the top ranking school teams in the country. The first day of preseason, upperclassmen are jumping at the chance to dub the freshman with their new nicknames.

When they get to Chris, he feels twelve sets of eyes on him. They’re all probably wondering what weird name he has. He can already hear the Karate Kid chirps. He’s heard them all before. No one who thinks subtle racism is hilarious is really that creative.

Before they can give him shit or figure out what to do with Christopher (probably Tofu or something) or Chow (he doesn’t even want to know), he speaks up.

“My friends call me Frank,” he lies.

Because his middle name is Franklin, and some people go by their middle names. Because maybe this is exactly what he needs, a fresh start where no one thinks of him as a kid.

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How It Ends

I was seven years old.  Not a “supermodel” child, but it was a time where I could get away with having a big chubby face. It was cute. Big blue eyes. Blonde hair. Very skinny. We were at Disney World, and I was a huge girlie girl and was getting a make over at their “bibbidi bobbidi boo” boutique.  I had my hair all done up, purple eye shadow, cherry lips. I remember all the adults fawning over me, staff, onlooking parents, lots of cameras, as they all cooed “She’s so beautiful!” I remember another girl sitting close by. I don’t remember much of it, being so long ago, but I vaguely remember some kind of sadness or envy coming from her. Maybe I’m making that up. Who knows.  I was too caught up in myself. 

I was ten years old.  I was a late bloomer. As my friends began growing boobs, getting periods, growing older, I suddenly stuck out in a more physical way. I was always an outcast for my strange behavior and frequent crying spells (I have been mistaken for mentally disabled for my behavior a few times) never popular, even in elementary school when “popularity doesn’t exist”. Maybe popularity didn’t, but bullying did.  And now I had my looks to worry about.  Stupid looking buck teeth.  Stupid smile. Big fat cheeks. Big eyes turned into bulging eyes. 

I was eleven years old.  Glasses. Short hair. Very small. Same face. Typical “innocent entering sixth grade girl” look. I’d normally been very weird and loud (in a way), but in the beginning of middle school I shut down. I was scared. I was completely invisible. I hated my face. I remember standing in the downstairs mirror crying and clawing at my face and screaming about how ugly I was and my mother panicking in the kitchen. 

I was twelve years old.  I’d began puberty. Got my period – even tasted it quite a few times just to see what it was like. I got boobs that I could now play with and squeeze together and touch. I gained a lot of weight and was no longer skinny. Not exactly fat, but I got called “stumpy” and was slow and kind of hunched-back looking. Not exactly a plus. Surprisingly, seventh grade, everyone’s least favorite year, I actually had fun. I didn’t care about my looks. Wore flared jeans and hand me down t-shirts everyday. Still had glasses. I never shaved, resulting in huge afro-pits that the boys would tease me about – so in turn, I’d shove my “disgusting” armpit hair in their face and send them screaming. My face got worse, but I didn’t notice. 

I was thirteen. All my friends were getting asked out. Getting boyfriends, Getting kissed, Getting attention. Girls in my grade went through boys like I went through heavy-duty pads (I had a very heavy period). I was completely invisible. Repulsive, even. I didn’t exactly notice this at the time though. Other people did, though. A boy once popped his head out of the bus and shrieked, “You’re ugly!” at me as he friends laughed at me. I was walking home from school.  People stared at me in disgust as I walked by on occasion. Again, I didn’t notice at the time, until I noticed a very particular guy. 

Alec. To the regular person, Alec was somewhat above average. Charismatic. Friendly. The cliche “Tall, Dark, and Handsome”. Intelligent. And he knew it. While he wasn’t really popular, he was respected, something I’d never felt. To a person that’d developed low standards due to disappointment (see: me), Alec was practically a god. It began as a small attraction to him, watching him as he stood up in front of our combined language arts classes and recite Shakespeare in that demanding, deep baritone voice. Ever since I first saw him, I had to look away. I couldn’t do this to myself. The way Alec made me feel, the pulsating feeling between my legs when I was near him, scared me so much that I avoided him in every way. 

Alec broke me. After I became comfortable enough to develop a crush on him from a distance, it became clear I liked him.  It was also clear he thought I was the most disgusting human being on the planet. How could the “incredibly nice” Alec treat someone who just wanted to be his friend, like shit? 

You hear sometimes that an ugly face can bring out the worst in people. There’s no point in being nice to an ugly. 

I was desperate. I changed myself for Alec. I attempted to be more outgoing, choose better outfits, got contacts, bought $10 Claires makeup sets. When I dyed my hair bright vampire red, a small part of me even wondered if he would notice.  For a while, my newfound mix of conflicting confidence and self-hatred shielded me from the reality of my face. 

There was a point where I’d gotten Alec’s number through a friend, smoothed things over, and we texted for hours. This is where I fell. He was amazing. But he avoided me in real life, despite confiding in each other over text (which is an overstatement – it was a very thought out three hours of texting that read more like an emotionless interview).  A week later after acquiring his number, he admitted it was weird talking to me in school “because there were people around”.  I should’ve dropped him there, but instead I asked him if he wanted to come over, if that would make him feel more comfortable. To accommodate him. Two weeks pass before he responds with a “yes” and he comes over, its fun to me, but I guess not to him because he ignores me for another two months before telling me that he “doesn’t see us as friends” and “doesn’t ever want to hang out or talk” to me again. 

It was during this time I learned from a friend he had hooked up with a pretty girl with an ass on his couch and they made out for hours. I also learned he currently had a crush on one of the prettiest girl in the grade – the kind of all-American pretty with a face I can’t even begin to describe (the first time I saw her when I moved here I couldn’t stop staring and I was afraid she would get mad at me). She was friends with everyone, super nice, the oldest of a big family, a preforming ballerina on the poms team. You knew she had an easy life. She was nice to everyone, except me it seems, for said weirdness. People try to be nice at first to me, but it becomes too much to tolerate, and that turns into pity which turns into a general distaste.  

I couldn’t compare to her, or even the past girl’s he’d hooked up with and/or liked. It was then I saw the moderately deformed face that was really behind the mirror.  I had(have) puffy, dropping lips with a small, curled-in chin and no jawline. Big chubby cheeks that pulled my whole face down. A soft, overly-sloped pug nose. Pointy ears. Bulging eyes. I can’t even tell their original shape they’re so asymmetrical – one eyelid droops halfway down my eye, while the other is pinned up, making it look big and round. My face, with little to no depth. Everything was forced to the front of my face, giving it a corny shape. Think Lola from Sharktale.  I started feeling happy less and less. It got to a point where I’d scratched myself with a pair of scissors just to feel less disgusting, only for a second. 

The worst part is realizing nothing can change this. Ever. No amount of makeup, weight loss, even expensive plastic surgery. I’m the ugly that the averages and above averages use as a crutch to look pretty. My friends stopped faux-complimenting me or trying to patch my self esteem. Even if they sugar coated, their true message came through. “You’re ugly as fuck you’re ugly as fuck you’re ugly as fuck”. My guy friends would jokingly berate me for my looks and then apologize like it didn’t matter. My friends would try to call me pretty one day and then tell me I’m ugly the next. Once my friend asked “‘When are you going to get your glow up like the rest of us?” They aren’t “beautiful”, but they will never know what it’s like to be ugly. 

Now I’m almost fourteen and cynical. This is how it ends.

🎁 21 FUN sorority sister gift basket THEMES! 🎁

I LOVE creating and giving gift baskets! Have fun, theme your items and put together a one-of-a-kind sister gift. Save money too by shopping smart and putting inexpensive things together that look lush in a group. Then add some sorority specific gifts to your basket to make it the ultimate greek girl gift experience!  xoxo ;)

🎁 21 FUN Sorority Gift Basket THEMES: 🎁

  • Pamper Basket: bubble bath, soap, shampoo, lotion, puff, candle, sorority towel, pillowcase, or cozy socks.  
  • Mani-Pedi Basket: emory boards, nail polish, cuticle cream, lotion, buffer., manicure supplies. 
  • Book Basket: best sellers, bookmarks, Amazon gift card, painted wine glass, list of favorite books. 
  • Movie Night Basket: popcorn, candy, sorority throw blanket, movie tickets, DVDs, soda, recommended movie list, sorority pj pants/shorts.  
  • Italian Dinner Basket: pasta, sauce, bread, napkins, wine, wine koozie. 
  • Craft Basket: jewels, paint, mod podge, brushes, craft flowers, markers, wood sorority plaque/paddle (blank ready to paint.) 
  • Fun in the Sun Basket: sorority beach towel, suntan lotion, paperback book, sorority tote bag, flip flops, sorority tumbler and cap. 
  • Baking Basket: cupcake and cookie mixes, frosting, spatulas, oven mitt, sprinkles, baking pan, timer, greek cookie cutters, cookie recipe.  
  • Coffee Basket: bags of gourmet coffee, Starbucks gift card, sorority coffee mug, coffee flavored candies, travel mug, flavored creamers.  
  • Tea Basket: specialty teas, sorority mug, cookies, fancy tea spoon, scones, tea cakes/cookies. 
  • Apple Basket: fresh apples, apple cider, apple snacks, apple chips, apple gum, sour apple candy. 
  • Work Out Basket: towel, sorority shorts or yoga pants, sorority headband, tank top, gift card to sporting goods store, small hand weights, sorority water bottle, healthy snacks. 
  • Cupcake Basket: assortment of different cupcakes, cupcake themed trinkets like ornaments and magnets, cupcake napkins, lemonade. 
  • Gameday Basket: team sweatshirt, team earrings, snacks, foam finger, koozie, pom pom, mascot plush toy, team and sorority tattoos. 
  • S’mores Basket: all the fixings for s’mores, plus hot chocolate packets, sorority mug, napkins, throw blanket, sweatshirt.
  • Adult Coloring Basket: several “adult” coloring books (Michael’s sells them), nice set of colored pencils, tasty snacks, pencil sharpener. 
  • Happy Hour Basket: drink mixers, nuts, chips, cute cups, bottle/wine opener, wine koozie. Theme your basket to a particular drink such as Margaritas, Bloody Marys, wine, or beer. 
  • Game Night Basket: board games, sorority deck of cards, candy, snacks, popcorn, dice, cute cups.
  • Chocolate Lovers Basket: chocolate candy in all forms, chocolate sauce, hot chocolate packets, chocolate themed ornaments, candy bar pillow. 
  • Fruit Basket: fresh fruit, healthy snacks, dried fruit, organic juices, smoothie or frozen yogurt gift card, fruit flavored gum, fruity lip gloss.  
  • Peppermint Basket: peppermint candy, peppermint gum, peppermint cocoa mix, peppermint lip balm. peppermint bath & body, peppermint candle. 
it was only a kiss [1/?]

crooked-queen was having a bad day yesterday (because people like to try and make perfect people feel like crap, too bad they didn’t succeed), hooksandheroics, did you really think it was over?, wetbellamyblake, you deserve to be tagged in this for distracting me by making lovely gifs


prompt - I’d love to see Bellamy and Clarke as the football player/cheerleader of rival teams who have this obvious sexual tension every time they see each other at away games, and it finally snaps one night and he takes her up against the locker room lockers. 

AN: I have no idea when I will finish this but Naiche will make me.


Bellamy joined the football team because when he started looking at possible ways to get into college. Now that might not make a lot of sense, but if he wants to into a good college and so that his sister can go to one as well, a scholarship for football is the best choice for him.

He worked his ass off all through high school to be the est and he was definitely becoming the best.

Then Clarke Griffin, the blonde with too attitude and that haughtier than thou face, came along and he had trouble concentrating. It wasn’t just the fact she was beautiful (she was, she looked like a fairy princess, small and delicate but also strong and powerful) but then he noticed how she watched the plays. How she would wince as one of her team fumbled or passed in some way, each of these would end in a resounding tackle from a member of his team.

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Another WIP because I’m tired and probably won’t finish this until tomorrow. This is all the Pokemon I have! They’re not strong or anything but they’re my babies and I love them. Even silly Chou Mein who needs help.

(I caught Chou Mein at Panda Express after the cook in the back was cussing about how they need more Chou Mein. He is my special child.)