the think of me dress was based on this

anonymous asked:

I can't tell if I'm transgender or gender neutral, I'm not really into female pronouns, but I'd don't mind them, on the other hand I despise being seen as female or doing generally female classed things (like painting my nails, my chest, dresses). And I do like to be seen as a boy, but I think that might just be because no one actually sees me as one, and I do stuff where I refer to myself as something with a males pronoun. Advice please?

Kii says:

Just a heads up- saying “male/female pronouns” is often considered an outdated way of referring to he/him and she/her.

We actually can’t tell you what your gender is. Only you can do that, and your gender is not based around whether you like to do things like paint your nails and wear dresses. I would recommend looking at this post.

Head canon that Blue Diamond changed her appearance because of stress

Since the Wanted arc aired, I’ve been thinking about Blue Diamond a lot lately and after seeing this video, it made me want to draw her.

In this video, it brings up a very great point about Blue Diamond’s appearance change from her mural depiction in the moon base to what we’ve seen so far.

In the mural, she wears what looks like a long flowing dress that exposes her gem and arms. Her hair color is depicted as darker than that of her skin. So we all expected her to look somewhat similar to that. BUT she ended up like this.

Why is that? Because she’s been mourning the loss of Pink, of course. So because of this, I wanted to draw what she could have looked like before Pink’s shattering.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love Blue’s design so much! I love the way she contrasts Yellow’s jagged and sharp design, but I don’t think Blue has always had the white flowing hair and mourning attire she has now.

Any Thoughts?

hugealienpie  asked:

I see prompts are open yay! Please tell me all about Ford finding out about Bitty and Jack.

Ooh, this is interesting, because I don’t feel like it’d be an announcement, but just something Ford finds out when Jack visits or the like. I mean, it could go the other way, like Lardo could be, “heads up, Bitty’s dating our ex-captain” and Ford would be like, “okay? why are you telling me?” (She’s a theatre background, what is a Bad Bob to her?) I think she’d be pretty chill with it, and coming from theatre, like being gay is not an issue, esp in college (and even at the professional level) and esp if we go with the oft reblogged “Ford is gay” headcanon.

But here is a small fic that is only half based on the above…

Ford double checks the dozens of pages Lardo has given her for the upcoming roadie. She thought dealing with dressing room allocation was hard (and it is, one hundred percent) but figuring out room allocations is somehow worse, particularly when she’s new, and hockey players are more superstitious than the girl who played Johanna in Sweeney.

“So, who was it I’m meant to pair Oliver with?” Ford asks, grabbing for the red pen she’d stuck into her bun earlier. She comes out with a green one. It’ll do.

“Wicks. But really, he’d be fine with any of the guys in his year.”

Ford makes a note on one of the pages. “Okay, then I think I’m–Oh, shit.”

“What is it?” Lardo looks up from her sketchbook.

Ford double checks through all her sheets before she says anything. She’s not worrying, because there’s no time for that, she’s just already hating the amount of extra work she’ll need to do to fix things.

“I’ve left Eric, um, Bitty,” Ford corrects herself, still getting used to hockey nicknames, “off the rooming list.”

“Oh, that. Nah, you’re good.” Lardo goes back to her drawing. “He stays with his boyfriend when we’re playing up there.”

“Boyfriend?” Ford double-checks.

“Yeah. He’s in Providence. And he’ll drive Bitty to the games and practices and stuff. Should’ve emailed you that. My bad.”

“That’s fine.” Ford grabs another pen from her hair, forgetting she already has one in front of her. It’s red this time. “Just thought I was going to have to redo an entire afternoon’s worth of work.”

“Right,” Lardo says. “I can see why the minor freak out.”

“Excuse you, I did not freak out.” It’s half a lie. Ford has so many notes on these sheets, but she’s not freaking out, she’s managing. It’s all part of it.

Lardo looks up and smiles at her. “Knew you’d be fine at this.”

Ford takes the compliment with a gracious nod, and goes back to ticking off the rooming list against the team names. All accept Eric.

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4

I was thinking about who I could dress up for Halloween, and the Lunar Chronicles ladies were the most obvious outcome. I’m actually surprised I haven’t done it before. I started a bit last minute, but I made it :)
So here are Cinder, Cress, Scarlet and Winter dressed in the dresses of the fairy tales their stories were based on ^.^ 

Pretty Patton

Hello, everyone, I’m back again!

I drew Patton in a cute dress, I hope you all enjoy it! I used a base of Haruhi from OHSHC.p>

Now I have to tag.

@prinxietys@the-prince-and-the-emo@lekawaiimelon@festivesepticeye@doctorshufflepuff@a-ginger-writer@prinanalogicality@clutzyrevolution@peterparkapants@thebrightsun@smolsanders@mira-jadeamethyst @katatles-the-fish @cutie5780 @pansexualroman @aquaphoenixts @obviouslyelementary @dan-yuna @prinxietytrash @thedemonsofmysoul @idk-and-idc-and-idr @i-am-me-i-am-sam @romanass @killerfangirl3 @deafinatelyfangirling @prinxietyhell @the-sanders-sides @jetsnacks

Aaaaand I think that’s everyone! Let me know if you wanna be tagged in the future, or if you no longer want to be tagged. Thank you! @thatsthat24

Runaway Groom

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings:
Smut
Summary: Bucky goes missing before the wedding.
A/N: This is based off this post, after I read it I just couldn’t get it out of my head and had to write it. Come let me know what you think!
Word count : 1,348

Originally posted by heartsandwheels

You nervously flatten the soft white fabric of your dress, taking a shaky breath. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you fix a stray hair and adjust your dress. “You look beautiful, Y/N” Natasha’s hands are cold on the warmed skin of your shoulders. You smile at her in the reflection of the mirror. “Barnes is a lucky guy” she says sincerely, her beautiful eyes locked on yours.

You cant help but shake your head and a small laugh escapes your mouth before you speak “pretty sure, I’m the lucky one Tasha”.

“You’re both lucky-” she moves a curl of your hair back in place “-to find such perfect love in this world” she smiles but you notice the sadness behind her words.

Turning around you take her into your arms, a strong loving embrace. Clearing your throat of the tears you murmur “I wonder how Bucky is doing” laughter dancing in your words. 


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Nurseydex & Acting Class

Eyoooooooooooooooo, the CP Resident Shakespeare Ho/Theater Major is back with more shamelessly using these characters as a means to talk about my major Nurseydex Antics!

As anyone who follows me knows by now, I’m a theater major. Dex and Nursey are comedy gold, and the thought of them working with any of the texts I’ve worked with is just DELIGHTFUL.

(Click here and here for my other Shakespeare Ho/theater major posts)

So without further ado!

  • Dex needs and art credit. Just one more fucking art credit. But his schedule is insane and there’s only one he can take this semester
  • it’s an acting class
  • He doesn’t want to do it. Mostly because his boyfriend will be I N S U F F E R A B L E
  • But he just wants to get this over with so he registers and just waits for Nursey to find out
  • Nursey is delighted. And registers for that class, too.
  • “YOU DON’T NEED ANOTHER ART CREDIT, DEREK!” “Dude, you really think I’m gonna miss this?”
  • Dex doesn’t really know what to expect going in, but he definitely wasn’t expecting the prof (let’s call him Casey) to be this hot middle aged guy who dresses like Indiana Jones and lives in a cabin and recites Shakespeare to trees
  • (we’re talking Adventure Indy, not Professor Indy)
  • (what no I’m not basing him on my prof Kerry who is also currently directing me in Julius Caesar why would you think that)
  • Nursey and Casey hit it off because Casey is this great mix of Passionate and IDGAF and Nursey wants to be him when he grows up
  • Dex’s main reaction to him is “?????????” until he starts talking about his cabin in the woods and then they bond over Practical Shit like fixing window panes and Nature
  • (the rest under the cut because this always happens my posts are always long af)

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Birthday Bows

Originally posted by smiling-calum


Warning: light bondage.

Snow fell soundlessly from the heavy clouds above as you and Harry trekked home from his birthday dinner. He had suggested calling a taxi when you left his friends at the restaurant, mentioning that the two of you may have had a few too many and it was a bit chilly for a midnight stroll. But the second the first flake hit your nose and you took in the way the light from the street lamps reflected off the fresh fallen snow down the path toward home, you insisted on walking.

“It’s like a postcard, Harry,” you said hopefully, pushing him to concede. Your giddy smile and flushed cheeks are what got him to agree even though he knew you’d both be chilled to the bone by the time you got home. But for now you had each other and the alcohol in your bellies to keep warm.

You had both drank more than you planned, especially Harry. But the wine had been flowing and the conversation among friends was rolling; it was the most at ease you had seen Harry in weeks. Prepping for tour always got him a bit stressed, and you only had a few more weeks before he hit the road again, so you weren’t going to put a stop to the drinking and dampen the mood. You just hoped Harry would be up for all you had planned upon the return home; you knew how a wine drunk got him a bit sleepy.

But you were reassured that Harry was less drunk than he seemed as you cut through the park together and you lost your footing a bit on the slick footpath. Before you could tumble sideways into the snowdrifts, Harry’s grip on your hand tightened as he reached to steady you by the waist. He looked down at you, checking to make sure you were all right and as an amused smile broke out across your lips, he busted out laughing.

Laughter echoed through the empty park. You clung to the edges of Harry’s coat, burying your face in his chest as you continued to giggle. His hand caressed the back of your neck as he kissed your temple. “And I thought I had too much to drink, love.”

“Hey!” You swatted his chest playfully, causing him to put his hands up to defend himself. “I’m not drunk, the path is icy.”

“Sure, love.”

“Harry, really!” you giggled. “I’m not drunk.” He eyed you knowingly. It may have been dark, but you knew his eyes were shining as they always did when he was being playful. “Just a bit tipsy.”

“Just a bit tipsy,” he repeated, throwing his arm over your shoulders and continuing the journey home.

“Yes,” you said firmly before adding under your breath, “I needed to boost my confidence for later anyway.”

“Hmm?” Harry glanced down at you with intrigue. You gave him a coy smile and shrugged. He wasn’t satisfied, but he didn’t feel the need to press further. Home was close and he’d get it out of you soon enough.

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anonymous asked:

For the touch prompts thing, #14 ‘sitting on someone’s lap’ with supercorp pretty please with pineapple on top.

#14 - sitting on someone’s lap

“It’s not my fault you’re so cute.”

Kara says it without thinking, without realizing that where she is means that might not be appropriate.

She’s full (today it had been artisanal waffles and coffee, which was so much of an improvement over the thing with the cabbage and something she couldn’t even identify that they’d eaten for lunch the day before) and buzzy (they’d sat in the park on a blanket Lena had brought with her and the hour in the sunshine has her overflowing with energy in a way she rarely gets to feel these days) and she doesn’t think about what she’s saying, because she’s too busy being happy. But the outer office of the executive suite at LCorp isn’t the place to be cute with her– with the woman she’s– with this thing so–

This thing they’re doing, this them, is so new and delicate, so undefined and utterly outside her range of experience that every steps feels like a risk. Like she’s going to screw it up before they have a real chance to be whatever it is Kara doesn’t have a name for yet.

Only she feels like a bull in a china shop, stomping through this them with all the enthusiasm and none of the finesse, and she cringes as she glances back to see if Jess heard her, pulls the door closed with deliberate care once they make it inside Lena’s office.

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Ringwatch 2017

One of my favorite things about season 4 was the constant ringwatch going on in fandom. “Is she wearing the ring yet??” and later on “Is she NOT wearing the ring yet??” That sort of sleuthing in fandom is my favorite thing (aside from fanfic, of course). It gets the blood pumping and the brain synapsing. 

Guess what folks? it might be time to revive ye olde ringwatch. BRING ON RINGWATCH 2017!

Last night, the Arrow production office tweeted this pic: 

now, everyone on twitter immediately leapt on the girl in the red coat. Those are EBR’s legs. That is a fancy hairdo. Paul Blackthorne (in another photo) was in a suit. Is there a party? A BIRTHDAY PARTY? Someone even found the dress she’s wearing based off the few inches beneath the jacket… (and its a near match to the one she wore to the Christmas party in 5x09, just a different color variation). I love when this fandom starts doing the detective work. 

@jbuffyangel asked me to zoom in on EBR. Particularly her hand. See, some are thinking that might be a ring there. Is it? 

I mean, it’s kind of hard to tell. Could be a shadow. 

👀👀👀

BUT YOU GUYS. That’s the proper finger on the proper hand and WHAT ARE THE CHANCES?? 

Is 5x22 too soon for a re-engagement? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Probably. Its not what I’d do. But I’m in full on “jesus take the wheel” mode with this show. I’m along for the fun. And speculating on rings or not rings right now? Is the sort of fun I’ve missed around these parts. So let the speculating begin! 

Pink Skies

PINK SKIES — you are my favorite everything. been telling girls that since i was 16. shut up, i love you. you’re my best friend. ( pink skies, lany )

REQUEST — archie comforts his best friend.

WORD COUNT — 2.3k

NOTES — a late v-day gift from me in the form of head-over-heels archie and his aloof best friend, the reader. this was originally going to be a quick little piece about y/n spraining her ankle and archie being her overprotective boyfriend; somewhere along the line, it ended up becoming archie trying to keep y/n’s mind off jason on her first valentine’s day without him. ( requests: open )

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anonymous asked:

do you have any tips on how to find face claims/ references for your characters?

Totally  ^ U ^  ok so when you have a Oc at least for me I have a image in my head of what I want them to look and I try not to base it on just one person. I’m like I want olly to have a golden hazel colored eyes so I google that and find the kind that matches what I imagine or close enough, then i think about face shape I want a square jaw, then  long hair, nose, lips, body type. I gather all those photos and make a mood board. then I go on to styling : I want him to be a metal head I want him to dress like a crustpunk and so I gather fashion inspo photos and that’s put on another page, THEN after all that i gather little details so for me it’s pictures of piebaldism, expressions things that show his personality  and THEEEEEN I start drawing, it’s a lot but I like the outcome rather then me being “like fuuuuuuuck I like brad pit in interview with a vampire
 … OC zad bitt is brad pit with his lip pierced” 

Rush (Shawn Mendes Smut)

requested: no

pairing: reader x Shawn

summary: you and Shawn have been sneaking around in a non-committal, sexual relationship. Tonight, Shawn invited you to an after party for an awards show and the two of you inspire each other to celebrate in other ways. 

a/n: based off the song rush by william singe . tell me what you think! requests are open!

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He didn’t buy flowers.
But one night he just picked up the hair brush off the bed and started brushing my hair.
We hardly ever went out for dinner.
But he sat on the cold tiles next to the bath,
feeding me toasted cheese. My wet hands,
wrinkling at the finger tips in the water.
I spend two hours with my make up. He says:
“Oh is base that stuff that makes you look a bit pale sometimes?”
But in the morning, he’d keep his face in my pussy. He’d go deaf when I tell him:
I think I just can’t come today.
He wasn’t impressed at my tight blue dress.
But he held my face to the sky, as he filled my mind with thoughts.
He pulled my hands from my ears, as he whispered to me in the dark
his secrets about myself
He didn’t complete me.
Quite the opposite. I’m terrified as he rips apart the puzzle.
He’s got a mirror to my face, and a flash light shining in my eyes.
I’m interrogated by his love.
Somedays I feel like a dream house.
You buy it, only to renovate every room.
The smell of wet paint clogging in my lungs.
I’m horrified by your love, your need to read and reread
every page of me.
But you hold me right through the night.
You keep wanting to see me
Naked. The answers that satisfy other people
don’t satisfy you. You capture my imagination,
as you bend me over the kitchen counter.
You don’t buy flowers. Were never interested in poetry,
But you’ve started reading it
with me.
—  Theresa Taylor

I… still have no idea if Jason Funderberker was supposed to be dressed up as something or if he was just wearing a suit for Halloween. I know he was based off an actual picture of Pat McHale in a green suit but like. Was that his costume? Was he cosplaying Pat McHale??

im about to go to bed, but i just want to reiterate a few things.

girls: you are not disposable. you are brilliant. you are strong. you are worth more than every single diamond that has ever and will ever exist. you are so, so amazing, and i love each and every single one of you. you should never, ever have to change any single thing about yourself for someone you’re dating, from the breath you take to the way you cut your hair to your friends to your religious or political beliefs. your lives and bodies are yours, and they are no one else’s to critique and criticize.

abuse survivors: i see you. i AM you. this is hard for me to talk about, and it would be damn near impossible without the incredible support youve shown and the awe-inspiring stories youve told. thank you. from the bottom of my heart, thank you for your support and your strength and your love. you are all so, so, so brave.

hockey tumblr, as a whole: we have GOT to stop slut shaming. we HAVE to. puck bunny? is a derogatory term based on gender, which basically by definition makes it a slur, or at least something like it. stop attacking girls who want sex with players. stop attacking girls who dont dress the way you think they should. stop attacking girls. just stop. and stop using gendered slurs to demean and harass other girls who have different opinions or choices than you.

and this one last thing: dating a player? is not a luxury. if it is, so is dating me, or you, or your friends, or my friends, because we’re all PEOPLE. we are all the same. theyre not the gods of olympus, theyre not jesus christ sent down to save us. they can skate around on large knives and handle a giant stick with more skill, care, and agility than i possess while walking down the damn stairs. i can create entire worlds in my mind and turn those worlds into words on a page, into characters and images in your head and thoughts in your heart. both are wonderful, incredible talents that have taken years to develop and earn. one is not greater than the other. their talent on the ice does not make them greater than me, or you, or any single one of us. they are people. and we have GOT to treat them as such.

Stars and Scars

A/N: this is only my second writing I have done for ACOTAR, but man I enjoyed writing this one. Feyre’s dress is based on Charlie Bowater’s (you know the one!) Let me know what you think!

————————-
Rhys’ POV

Ever since the war, Feyre hadn’t been herself. I knew she needed time to process the deaths and horrors she witnessed, but I could also see how the guilt was eating her away. I hadn’t seen her smile in months. She asked me for time, and I granted that request. I could feel her falling deeper and deeper into that pit of dispair, and it would soon swallow her whole. I needed to save her before it broke her completely.

She needed a distraction, something to break the cycle of guilt and greif. I sent a tendril of my power out to Azriel, asking him to return to Velaris. Currently, he and his shadows were gathering information about the mortal queens’ movements. He’d hate me for taking him from his duty, but he would know where to find what I needed.

I made my way lazily across the roof of the townhouse, pausing to unfurl my inky wings. I sat, content to let the sunlight warm them. Not long after I had called, Azriel landed breathlessly, a bead of sweat dripping from his brow.

“What?” Was all the shadowsinger said, cocking his head quizzically.

“Hello to you, too,” I grinned, dipping my head. “Our High Lady is in need of our assistance,” I responded, Azriel lifted a brow in confusion, but stayed silent. “I need a favor….”

—————————

Feyre’s POV

The sun shone brightly upon the florists quarters, casting it’s warmth through the open air market that Elain, Lucien and I had wandered to. Elain had decided our home was bleak, and in desperate need of “a woman’s touch.” Thus, she took it upon herself to brighten it by way of gardening.

“How about these?” Elain inquired, pointing to a packet of gladiolus seeds. “They’re usually yellow, and they only bloom at night. I could plant them in the sill outside your and Rhys’ window,” she cooed, turning to me.

“That sounds lovely, Elain.” I mumbled, forcing a small smile to my lips. Lately, it had been difficult to feel happy. To feel anything really, besides the gaping hole where my heart had been. So many things weighted me down. Mor had said that war leaves scars, but I didn’t think it would be this painful.

“Feyre, you will heal. It will just take time,” Elain murmured, concern lacing her voice. “We’re all here for you. We went through it too. You can conquer it, I know you can.” My heart lifted the tiniest bit as I recalled the strength she and Nesta had shown in that final battle. Yes, perhaps I could learn to live with this feeling; could learn to not let it overwhelm me. I met her warm brown eyes as she took my hand and squeezed. “I know,” I told her. “Thank you.”

Her mate appeared from around the corner, his copper hair shining in the mid day sun. “Have you found anything, my love?” Lucien asked her, peering over her shoulder. She leaned into his touch, but shook her head.

“I think we should start making our way home. Will you join us Feyre?” Elain inquired, turning back to me. I gave her a ghost of a smile as I summoned my wings. “No, thank you. I think I’ll fly,” I answered, and with one powerful stroke of my wings, I was airborne. When I stole one small glance back at my sister before banking for the opposite side of the river, she was smiling from ear to ear.

—————————

Rhys’ POV

Several hours after my initial request, Azriel found me in the sitting room, his arms full of small glass orbs.

“I see you found what I asked for,” I drawled from my seat by the window,

Smirking, Azriel replied, “Took me three hours of flying around and I had to call in some favors, but yes, yes I did.” I quirked an eyebrow at him in surprise.

“I didn’t realize it would require so much effort. How horrible that must have been for you, to actually work!”

Azriel snorted, rustling his wings as he set the orbs onto the couch. Almost instantly, the orbs started to give off a yellowish glow.

“Good luck,” he taunted as he prowled out the door. I rolled my eyes at his back and set to work creating my mate’s surprise.

—————–

Feyre’s POV

Sweat pooling down my back, I gritted my teeth as I landed roughly on the roof. Exhausted from the flight, I remembered to vanish my wings moments before I slunk into a chair. I felt a rush of my mate’s excitement at my return radiate down the bond, but was too tired to recirocate it. A note appeared on the small table beside me, and I sighed before reading it.

“Come to the dining room,” was all it said. I felt a small smile creep onto my face at that, and summoned the strength to stand.

As I glided down the stairs, the first thing I noticed was the music. The beautiful, enchanting music that we had danced to at Starfall. The memory of that night, the time Rhys and I had shared, made my heart swell. And at the bottom of the steps stood my mate. Clad in his usual black dress shirt that hugged his chest, it was unbuttoned just enough to let the upper portion of his Illyrian tattoos show. I paused halfway down to drink him in.

When he noticed, he straightened and sent a burst of amusement through our bond. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” I crossed my arms, stubborn as ever, and he laughed. “I feel a bit under dressed compared to you.” Glancing down, he seemed to dinally notice my dirty tunic and plain pants. Rhys’ eyes crinkled as he waved a hand and my sodden clothes shifted into a mesmerizing, flowing black dress. The straight, shimmering skirts swept the floor. Silver whorls slid up the delicate sheer sleeves and across the fitted bodice. “Better?” He asked coyly.

“It’s beautiful,” I told him, smiling softly as I took his outstretched hand.

He led me toward the kitchen, with delight twinkling in his violet gaze. His next words came out in a rush. “Now Az and I both worked very hard on this, so I hope you’ll enjoy it,” He remarked, stopping me with a hand on my shoulder. “Now close your eyes.”

I did, and let Rhys’ gentle touch guide me into the dining room. The scents of rich, spiced wine and carefully cooked roast filled my nostrils. His hand slip from my shoulder as he moved in front of me. “Okay, open.”

Tears pricked my eyes as I gasped and beheld what was in front of me. Stars, at least a hundred of them, suspended from the ceiling of the dining room. They glowed brilliantly, flickering in the fading light let in from the window. Below them sat an elegant meal; two places set at the carved oak table.

Tenatively, Rhys inquired, “Do you like it?”

Pure joy flooded through me, the first I had felt in some time. “I didn’t need you to give me the stars,” I answered, turning to him, “but they do look lovely in my dining room.” Relieved, Rhys gave me a warm smile of his own.

“Actually, they’re glowworms. Azriel rounded them up from the caves outside the city this afternoon.” He pulled out my chair and motioned for me to sit. “The little things are actually quite picky; they only glow in places they feel completely comfortable.” Placing a kiss on my hair, he added sincerely, “I needed to see you smile again, Feyre.”

He took his place across from me, and I did just that. My old self was shining through once again. I now understood that my scars truly would heal, with help from those I loved.

Looking at him from beneath my lashes, I purred, “Well, obviously they love it here, so…. Can we keep them?” Rhys blinked in surprise, and his roaring laughter echoed through the townhouse.

“For you, Feyre darling, anything.”

how old were you when they told you that your body was a temple you weren’t allowed to let other people into? that your hallowed soul would somehow rot and grow mold if you let another human being’s breath caress the tops of your shoulders, the curve of your neck?

because i was seven. my father said, “your body is a gift, save it.” i am not an object. i am not an object.  

“it’s good to cover up.” no. i cover up mistakes, i cover up failures. i am not either one of these, and it has taken me years to train myself out of believing it. if i must lay eyes on every whitehair chest of lobster-red old men in their wrinkly skin and saggy swimsuit bottoms, you can handle my spaghetti straps, my dresses above the knee, my shorts, my v-neck tee. 

“what will people think?” well given that when i dress modestly i’m seen as a prude and a frigid bitch, i’m going to assume they’re thinking something insidious. the happy thing is: their thoughts don’t change my reality. i am not defined by them. you can’t tell me who i am. you don’t own this. you will never own this.

“leave something to the imagination.” your problem is the reality of my body, and i’m not sorry. you hate that you can’t imagine me flawless, no scars, no scabby shins, not a real human. in your head, you photoshop onto me large breasts that stay perky without a bra, hips without stretchmarks, a spine without freckles. but i am real, and these are all beautiful, and you should feel blessed you look upon them. 

“no man wants a woman like that.” that’s fine with me. i don’t want a man who judges me for showing off my body. in fact, some of us don’t want a man at all. sadly for you, i don’t dress to impress strangers. i dress because it’s summer, and i’m hot, and i don’t just mean the temperature. and for the record? when i do dress for my man in skimpy little booty shorts? he doesn’t seem to have much of a problem with or without it. he loves me for who i am and not the purpose i serve as an object.

and i am not an object. i am not an object. you don’t get to sum up my personality based on my clothing. you cannot hold a book and look at the cover and tell me the whole story. you cannot look at me and know anything. i am not just a book. i’m a nation of libraries.

i do not become unholy for a strapless dress. i do not lose myself for daring to wear a skirt with a slit up the leg. “ladies, your body is sacred, make sure you dress in clothing i personally find demure and satisfyingly modest” sounds a lot like you think you’re a god and only you can determine whether or not i'm worthy of eternal damnation. 

i got news for you, buddy.

i’m a goddess. i don’t ask for permission.

—  Let me dress for the weather without comment. I don’t care if you “don’t like the packaging.” I’m not a package, and even if I was, it’s not to your house I’ll be showing up. // r.i.d

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Question: Law is dressing up for their first date but where do you think should he take Luffy? 

A. Disneyland - A couple on a Ferris Wheel, yes?
B. Cat Cafe - Coz Luffy is cute and cats are cute. Put two cute things together. Let’s see how Law handles it.
C. Cinema - Horror movies. Because why not?
D. North Pole - Two things: Adventure and Aurora Borealis.

Has Anyone Seen My Harley?!

Request:Could I get a Jerome fic? Him and Harley were already an established relationship and she was there with him the night he died, after he kills Dwight he goes to find her!! I need total worship of his face please :)) You can have whatever you want to happen just as long as they reunite.
Word count: 1,406


Harley POV:
“You said I was gonna be…” Jerome’s voice dies down and his heart slows down completely. “No! No. Come on Mr. J. Pull through. Come on Jerome. Come on! Stay with me you crazy thing!” I cry into his body.

I turn to see Galavan acting innocent and scared. “You son of a bitch!” I grab a knife and charge to him screaming. I’m unable to get to him when Babs grabs me and makes me follow her into the secret exit.

I cry as I run and as we come to a stop Babs holds me. “I know honey. I know it’s okay. Look. We can go shopping and get our nails done when we’re not wanted anymore! That’d be fun!” He says trying to cheer me up. It didn’t work.

Nothing worked.

A year later and I’m still moping around. Sure I’ve gotten back on my feet and gotten myself out there with the business, but it’s not the same. Not the same without J.

I look at myself in my mirror. I examine my red/black hair sectioned into two ponytails. My black and red corset hugging my body snuggle. my black and red shorts making my ass look incredibly sexy. The red and black knee socks on each leg topped off with one red converse and a black one. “Oh you’d love this look J. You always said red was my color.” I can almost hear his laughter.

I skipp up the street and giggle when everyone crosses the other way. I see a banner hanging in an alleyway. It has the eyes and HAHAHA! For the mouth. I’ve heard about this! It’s a tribute to Jerome!

Should I go? Yes! They would love to see me! Oh what am I thinking? No! It would hurt to much! Ugh so many choices!

Deciding against my fears and sadness I follow the sign and a few weird dressed people. I pull back the sheet and see a bunch of people chanting his name. Oh my Jerome has a true fan base! Oh he’d be such a proud daddy!

I look up to the front and see a man stepping down wearing a mask. Oh come on! This is Gotham! What kind of person wears a mask!

I look closer and see the details of the mask. The pale sink. The cute little curve of the lips… the red eyebrows… he’s not wearing a mask. HE’S WEARING JEROME’S FACE!

“Hey! What are you doing with Mr. J’s face?! That doesn’t belong to you!” I scream and make my way to the front. Gasps and laughs are faintly heard as I make my way to the man.

“You-you’re Harley Quinn. He- his beloved lover.” I smile and giggle. “Ah yes. But besides that! WHY DO YOU HAVE HIS FACE?!”

“Well I-” “GCPD! Nobody move!” Jim Gordon yells as he enters, and of course what does everyone do? Run.

I flip off the stage and walk to the gentleman. “Harley. What a pleasure.” Jim says sarcastically. “Always. Hello Harv.” “Evening darling. Care to tell us what this was?” I shrug my shoulders. “I’m clueless as you… HEY! How bout I help you out? I’m really good at finding clues! Oh come on please please please? I’m bored.” I say hugging to Jim.

He huffs and peels me off. “Fine. No funny business or we’re bringing you in.” Harvey says. “Oh yippie! Yay yay yay!” I giggle and tumble across the room. “Come along chaps!”

We look through the entire building until we come to the basement. “Ah… Harvey?” “Yeah partner?” I ignore them and keep playing with a rubix cube I found in this dump. “Why would he cut off his face?”

At this I drop my toy and run over to them seeing a body. A cold and handsome dead body. “Aw Jerome look at you. Faceless and still sexy. Can’t you just pull anything off?” I giggle and sit next to his body on the table.

“Harley do you know anything? You seem… normal.” At this Harvey laughs. “Doing fine. Just came to terms that he’s gone. I can always carry out his legacy. Obviously not as well, but I could!” “Right. Well how about you go home and wash your face, and we take this guy to the GCPD.” “Whoa! You mean I can’t come with you?” They look at me and shake their heads. “Aw man!” I huff and kick the dirt. “Guess I’ll just go shoplifting then. Been needing some new rags anyway. See ya fellas!” I wave and cartwheel out.

Lee Pov:
I walk back into the room and see a cop on the ground and blood dripping from his head. “What the-” suddenly I’m grabbed from behind with a hand over my mouth and a gun to my head. “Boo!”

Harley POV:
I toss another piece of popcorn into my mouth and chew flipping through the channels. I flip past the news channel and see that man from before. The one with J’s face!

Lee POV:
Jerome claps his hands after I tell him of his death and what has happened. “Well that is quite a story. Now tell me more about this cult. They think I’m pretty great?” I scoff. “They’re a bunch of crazy lunatics.” “Ah my kind of people! I know you. Don’t I?” “Yep.” He steps slightly closer. “Did you and I ever…” he says with the gun at his crotch and thrust. “Ugh god no!” “Why? Gingers not your type?” “Why don’t you talk to Harley? I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate you asking that.”

He steps back a confused look painting his face. “Harley?” “Yes. Your girlfriend I assume. It’s never actually been said. You kind of always went along.” “Girlfriend… show me show me!” I point to a picture on the paper. “Got to say she a real trip. Always bouncing around.” “Ah. Harley Quinn. My Harley. Got to say red is her color.” He stuffs the paper in his pocket of the stolen cop uniform. “Now. One more thing. Where is my face?”

Harley POV:
I balance on my beam while watching tv when suddenly the channel changes. I don’t pay attention and keep focusing on my handstand from 4 feet off the ground.

“Am I live? Am I on air? Can you hear me? Ah, screw it. Let’s do it. Hi.” I fall off the beam to the floor and scrambled to the tv. Jerome! Oh baby! He’s got his face back! Oh I love it!

“Some of you may know, I died.Uh-oh. But take it from me, death is dull but coming back that is something. Leave it to dying to give you a whole new perspective on life. And I would like to share that with you. Uh, Officer, you look terrible.” Jerome walks over to the man who took his face. “Hey, you got oh.” He pulls out a stick of dynamite from his ear making me laugh.

“Tonight, Gotham, in the darkness, there are no rules. So, tonight, Gotham do what you want.
Kill who you want. Hmm? And when morning comes you, too, shall be reborn. Oh and has anyone seen my Harley? Cause baby I’m coming for you.” I throw my arms up and spin around the room. I then sit patiently for him to walk in the door.

Jerome POV:
“Oh and has anyone seen my Harley. Cause baby I’m coming for you.” I laughs and skip out leaving Dwight to die. I skip to her apartment and compose myself. I look down and pick a flower. I twist the knob. “Honey. I’m home.” I say laughing. I feel two arms wrap around my neck and I hear her cute giggle in my ear. “Ah there’s daddy’s girl.”

She brings up a torch and flips it on. “Oh J your face! Did it hurt?” I lift her chin and smirk at her. “Not in the slightest. Whatcha think? How does it look?” She bites her lip and circles me taking in my appearance. “I think it looks a okay.” She pulls my tie to meet her lips. She plays with the ends of my hair and I grip her hips. “What do you say we go on a spree? Like the old days?” She places the police hat on her head and spins to the door. “Right this way Mr. J.” Oh it’s good to be back.

Originally posted by daddyvaleska18

Originally posted by msharleenquinnzel