womans rights are good

10

minhyuk ♡ bongsoon

↳ fell in love (at first sight) → became friends → dated → got engaged → got married → became parents

good morning, it’s me: Bad Cat

That’s my girl...

 They don’t know what to do with you darling, that’s the problem,                  They can’t sit you down and shut you up, put you in a box,                              Or play you at your own game,                                                              Because how can you be so calm when you’re a hurricane of a woman,        All power and strength and independence?                                                You’re not pretty, soft, quiet,                                                                        You’re beautiful, strong, powerful, determined,                                                    Sexy as hell,                                                                                                    But they don’t know what to make of you,                                                      You are a once in a lifetime kind of woman,                                                    That little boys may pass up for the safety of everyday girls,                                But you know your worth,                                                                                You could bring them to their knees if you so choose,                                      So don’t you dare forget,                                                                              Wear your purpose like an armor and one day you’ll find the man that doesn’t  try to puzzle you out by stripping you of your strength,

He’ll simply stand back and say “that’s my girl”.

A 6x07 spec fic based on recent photos from the Arrow set. 

**CONTAINS POTENTIAL SEASON 6 SPOILERS**

(If you haven’t been seeing all the pics from the last few days, don’t read!)

“So was this why your relationship ended?”

Felicity gaped. “Wow, you guys just dive right in, don’t you?”

The woman offered a smile, and Felicity almost believed it was genuine. Except she was still a reporter asking questions that even Felicity didn’t like talking about. And it was her own love life.

“Well, the people of Star City were very taken with ‘Olicity,’” the reporter replied. Felicity bit the inside of her lip to stop from smiling at the name her and Oliver had been dubbed with. Olicity. She honestly had to wonder what her life was sometimes. The lady pushed her recorder closer to Felicity, like if she pressed hard enough the answers would fly out like word vomit. “We were all hoping you’d make it. And now you and the Mayor are back together and he just came out as the Green Arrow, so it stands to reason that his nighttime activities might have played a role in the demise of your relationship before.”

W-o-w.

“Well, we, uh…”

Keep reading

Oswald Cobblepot felt safe with Edward Nygma, but sometimes – he didn’t want to. –Only In Dreams, @okimi79

hey to all you people who like to romanticise women wearing headcoverings,

take it from me, a kid who grew up looking out from under a headscarf -

take it from me, way too many women who wear headscarfs are wearing them because they’re forced to.

i don’t mean any disrespect to women who make their own choice to wear headcoverings. but seriously if you haven’t experienced that kind of community, you don’t understand the kind of pressure/coercion that exists to make females cover themselves.

if people had seen teenage me, they would have thought my headcovering was adorable and exotic. but it damn well wasn’t. it was a symbol of how much my life was controlled by the patriarchal social structure i was living under. i wouldn’t have been allowed out of the house without it.

tl;dr: it’s great that some women find wearing headscarves empowering, and good for them. but please, please everyone stop romanticising something that for LOTS of women is nothing more than a tool used by men to keep them submissive and under control. For some of us empowerment comes from casting our headcoverings aside.

the bed time ritual of turning to your absence,
asking the space if it is right, if all the moments
that lead into this moment are satisfied?
when i read a story or watch a television show,
i track the plot, the tiny threads that should be seamless,
but run jagged, imperfect. my sheets, that are soft
only because they are old, a hundred times washed.
not because they are fine.

forget the metaphor. remember i was your girl.
remember the feel of my ankle, the way
i cut into a slice of a cake with a spoon.
the sweetest thing can also be a hard thing.

that’s a line. here is another one, uncrossed,
emphasized by a dozen rational thoughts and
a sense of decency. isn’t that the bare minimum
for loving someone? would i give up my good girl
crown for a happily ever after? does it matter?
i know what you want to hear and what you really think.
i begged once. i’ll never want again.
—  Yena Sharma Purmasir, “twenty seven of thirty” (2017)
Mirror and stone

Sameen’s voice in Farsi is liquid and gentle. At least, it seems that way to you now, hearing her speak for the first time, your head in her lap and your eyes closed. One hand weaves through your hair; the other holds her father’s battered copy of Rumi’s love poetry.

It’s late, but neither of you can sleep. The spring night is unseasonably warm, so you’ve folded back the sheets and are currently sweating in a tank top and a pair of boxers from Sameen’s drawer. Seemed fair to steal, since you’re the one who dropped off and picked up her laundry at the wash-and-fold around the corner. The shirt you’re wearing is old enough that, even freshly laundered, it smells like her.

You don’t know what the words mean; you simply let them wash over you and through you. Sameen reads limpidly, fluently, in musical phrases. She smooths hair over your temple, cards through the strands, winds a curl around her finger.

The heat is making your shoulder ache; the painkillers you reluctantly took have only just started to work through your body and soften your thoughts. None of that matters much now, with your cheek resting on Sameen’s inner thigh and her voice pouring over and into every part of you.

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kdrama problems

i dont have second lead syndrome this time, i fully ship min hyuk and bong soon, but seeing gook doo’s rejection made me want to cry so badly- his situation, where he realized his feelings too late and could only watch her slip out of his fingers right as he turned around and tried to grasp, is so heartbreaking in that the issue of timing in love confessions is so real, and that he can only blame himself later on for missing his chance. its the concept of “almost” and “what could have been,” and having to watch his heart break right in front of me, the evidence of his emotions written all over his face, that break my own heart as well even though i know inside that they werent the right ones for each other anyways ;;

one thing i really loved about 3.05 was that the female lead (who is a mother) has this opportunity to independently pursue that which she desires and the narrative simply depicts this as right and good. Usually when a woman is represented going after what she wants so completely she’s labelled as selfish, or is shown to be tortured by guilt so that we forgive her for her desires. Here, it’s celebrated. I loved it.