seeking beauty

Night Fever in Sacramento last night. Each candle is from a random stranger that went inside the beautiful cathedral to light a candle from our street teams.

I want to be considered beautiful, but not in the typical way. I want to be beautiful in the sense that you feel comfort and warmth when you’re with me. I want to be beautiful in a way that banishes all of your insecurities and doubts. I want to be beautiful in a way where you can find encouragement and hope out of time spent with me. I want to be the kind of beautiful that causes you to see only the best in yourself. I don’t want to be beautiful in pictures, but beautiful in life and soul.

Always remember this my love🌟🌟🌟

Fav Fic/Fic Rec 3/? : Strawberry Milk Fic by Wankerville
Word Count: 157k

we’ll play hide and seek to turn this around (give me love like never before)

“So here’s the thing,” he starts. “I didn’t mean what I said a few weeks ago to like, hurt your feelings or anything. If you like painting your nails, then you should do that, and not like, care if anyone else doesn’t like it because their opinions shouldn’t matter, you know?” Louis takes a breath, finally glancing over to see the boy wide-eyed and pink-cheeked. On a whim, he adds, “And like, I noticed you scraping it off and you haven’t been wearing any and I think you should because that’s what you like.”
or an au where harry paints his nails and drinks strawberry milk and is too nervous for it to be nothing and louis’ just trying to figure out whats wrong with him 

cause all that you are is all that i’ll ever need

Strawberry milk layers their upper lips, and they giggle and lick it off of each other. They taste it in each others mouths when they kiss; it’s on their tongues, and filling their tummies. There are seven cartoons in the fridge, with 1 out that they keep pouring into shot glasses. They give each other a ‘cheers!’ and tip it down their throats. Instead of burning their mouths, it wipes away the sting that is already inside of them.
(Harry still has days when he needs to feel good on the inside. Louis can see it in his eyes, and on these days, Louis needs it too. Maybe just as much.)
or the strawberry milk sequel; where harry still needs help, louis’ trying to give it to him, liam rents a van, zayns a bit protective of his best mate, and nialls there to tie it all together.

lumière, darling 

Part 3 of strawberry milk fic

What it's Like being an Ugly Duckling Sugar Baby

Being pretty has its perks. For example, you get to have a chance at being a sugar baby. But what happens when you used to be an ugly duckling? Is the sugar bowl just as sweet if you used to be ugly? I used to be unattractive. I was less than plain looking, obese, and I had a face full of acne scars. Just three years ago, I was invisible to the opposite sex. I envied the pretty girls in my high school. Life seemed easier and so much sweeter for them. They were perfectly thin, painstakingly beautiful, and men seemed to bask in their effortless goddess glow. 

Then there was me. I was bullied relentlessly in middle school for my plain Jane looks. I was called Shrek, a cavewoman with big breasts, and other nasty names. I moved to a new neighborhood in ninth grade and went to a suburban high school. I went from being a target for abuse to being so invisible that I would come home crying because the feeling of being alone was so unbearable. I needed to stand out so I became a studious nerd. I read voraciously, studied up to four hours a day, and never had a social life. 

I wanted so desperately to be pretty. I imagined life would be so much better if I wasn’t fat and ugly. And it seemed like fate was listening to my endless pleas for beauty. I became pretty nearly overnight during the last few months of my senior year in high school. I lost nearly 65 pounds. I went from a size 17 pants to a size 6 (sometimes 8). I learned how to put on makeup properly. My acne got better. And I got new glasses. The attention I received went from ridicule to being told over and over how pretty I had become. The attention was a bit addicting and I entered college as a pretty girl. So what on Earth does this have to do with being a sugar baby? A lot actually. This is what it’s like being a sugar baby who used to be an ugly duckling: 

1. I don’t know how to effectively negotiate allowance. Not only is it super awkward, I can’t really gauge what would be a fair allowance for someone like me. I usually lowball myself and when I try to raise the bar, it backfires. My confidence in asking for allowance is just not there. 

2. It’s awkward being told by sugar daddies how beautiful I am. I can’t help but questions their motives and I really cannot see what they see. I don’t know how to use my beauty to get what I want. And flirting seems like a foreign language. When a sugar daddy is flirting with me, I smile awkwardly and most times look away.  

3. I can’t help but use my intelligence more than my looks. Back in high school, I had no choice but to develop my intelligence and charm people with my personality. Now I can use my looks instead, but my default mode is impressing a POT with how much I know about politics, current affairs, and writing. 

4. I end up being super intimidating. Many men on seeking arrangement tell me how they don’t message me because I come across as intimidating. Not only am I super smart, but now I’m beautiful. So, I guess that’s why I get lots of views but little messages. And I can’t really help it. 

5. I’m humble and modest. I never demand allowance and I don’t have an entitlement attitude. This is because there was nothing to feel entitled about. The only thing though is that it’s hard to accept compliments.

6. Being pretty is not all it’s cracked up to be. Yes, it’s nice, but I’ve noticed how much emphasis people put on a woman’s beauty. We live in a shallow society and that I know from experience! So, that’s what it’s like. The sugar bowl can be just as sweet, but it takes a little more effort if you used to be an ugly duckling. 


Muniba Mazari, a wheelchair bound painter whose twitter bio reads, “ An optimist who is physically challenged & differently able.” 

“Although it is hard to paint being a paraplegic, it is not easy to paint with a free mind when you are wheelchair bound, yet I know it is the only way through which I can spread the message of strength and courage. So I forget my pain and paint for myself, I paint for people as I believe in spreading the message of ‘Never Give Up’.”