women i wish i looked like

8

I just look at women sometimes and I just want to ask them, ‘Do you know how fabulous you are?’ I look back at pictures of myself and I remember thinking, 'I was so fat when I was growing up. I was 165 pounds when I graduated from high school. I was a mess.’ And then I look back at pictures of myself, and I’m like, 'You were fabulous.’ I wish I would have known that then.

Writing is Hard, Part 5: Headcanons

Summary: Dean shows the reader that there’s truth to a famous headcanon.

Read Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 3000ish

A/N: This is all written with love for fan fic. I’m teasing, not putting it down in any way. Hope you enjoy! (Sorry, tag list is closed!) XOXO


“Reading anything good?” Dean asks.

Sam’s inside the gas station, picking up some snacks instead of listening to this conversation, so your face doesn’t feel the need to flush with embarrassment. Dean already knows exactly what you’re reading.

“I guess,” you tell him. No need to feed his ego by telling him how hot the story is.

“What is it?”

Keep reading

Eowyn: But no living man am I! You are looking upon a woman. Eowyn am I, Eomund’s daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.“ 

The winged creature screamed at her, but then the Ringwraith was silent, as if in sudden doubt.

Witch King: *internally* The prophecy said no living man can kill me…that probably means women, too, right? Like, she’s a ‘man’ in a general sense. I wish I had thought about this scenario earlier, there are so many women around here. I’ll probably be fine. I can take her. I mean, the word woman has ‘man’ in it, there’s no way the prophecy was saying a girl can kill me. I got this.

I hate how d&d made arya into this ‘not like other girls i hate women’ thing when literally book!Arya LOVES HER FELLOW WOMEN. She makes friends with all sorts of girls, the prostitutes at Happy Port, the daughters of sailors, she respects and loves all sorts of different women, she loves and looks up to her mother and wishes she could be more like them. 

She respects their skills and beauty and goodness, she just acknowledges that she cannot be like that due to her own inabilities to conform. She wants to be good at sewing, she wants to be able to sing, she wants to be beautiful like her sister and mother, but she also feels completely inadequate and awful in comparison to all the women in her life. So what does a 9 year old do?

A 9 year old calls it stupid because calling it stupid hurts a lot less than admitting that what people criticize about you the most are correct. Like lmao if your skillset lies in horseback riding, sword fighting, and other non-traditional activities for women, are you supposed to silently suffer ridicule and a life of non fulfillment? 

People who treat Arya like a crappy cliche literally have 0 understanding of her character. 

Mixed Black African Girl (Cameroonian/French)

I’m a mixed black african girl who grew up and lived most of her life in Cameroon, in Central Africa. My dad is half-white (french) and half-black (cameroonian), and my mom is 100% cameroonian. There’s little to no black african characters in popular fiction, which has always bothered me, and it would be so nice to read about someone like me for once.

  • Culture and food

Cameroon is a country created during colonization, with borders defined by europeans. Because of that, Cameroon is actually made of 200 ethnic groups, each of them having their own language and culture. So the culture and daily habits vary a lot depending on which region of Cameroon you are in. In the big cities, though, everyone is mingled no matter where they’re from. However, so many different ethnic groups cohabiting together often causes tension. There are also a lot of stereotypes about every ethnic group.

I grew up in the central and coastal areas of the country, and I’m Bassa. The Bassa are one of the main ethnic groups in Cameroon. If your parents are from two different ethnic groups, it is decided that you officially belong to your father’s ethnic group. My mother is Bakoko but my father is Bassa, so I’m the latter. When I meet another Cameroonian, two of the first questions we usually ask each other are : What are you (meaning, what’s your ethnic group) ? and Where is you village ?

Villages are very important in the Cameroonian culture. Your village is where your father’s ancestors were born. Even if you’re not born there, you usually have grandparents or great-uncles or family friends living there, and if you have enough money to do so you must regularly visit your village. And usually, when people earn enough money, they send money to their village so that people living there can have a better life, build more houses and schools etc.

Cameroonian food is very diverse, and varies depending on the region. The national dish is Ndolé, a dish made with ndolé leaves, stewed nuts, and meat (fish, beef or shrimps). Other common foods are bobolo and miondo (food made out of fermented manioc), soya (spicy grilled meat on skewers), and plantain. My dad is half-french though, so at home we eat almost as much french food as cameroonian food (crème brûlée, shepherd’s pie, beef bourguignon, A LOT of bread and cheese).

  • Language

There are hundreds of different languages, but the official languages are French and English. Cameroon was colonized by France and England so Northern Cameroon mainly speaks english and central/southern Cameroon mainly speaks french. Most people also speak their ethnic group’s language. I don’t know how to speak Bassa, though, because neither do my parents. When me and my siblings were kids, our dad asked our baby-sitter to teach us, but she could only do so much and I only remember a few words.

  • Beauty Standards

Like most countries, there is a lot of colorism in Cameroon based on European beauty standards. When you’re a woman, the lighter you are, the prettier and more desirable you are considered. Dark skinned women are often mocked and considered not as pretty. A lot of people, mainly women but also men, use dangerous products to lighten their skin. Internalized racism and white beauty standards are very insidious, and a lot of people want to look like white people, including me when I was younger. As a kid I remember wishing i was a pretty blonde-haired blue-eyed white girl like the heroines of the books i was reading. Growing up I stopped wishing that, but I relaxed and straightened my hair a lot, wanting to have long straight hair without realizing that it was still an attempt to look like the ideal version of a white girl. I’m sure that if I had more black female characters to relate to when I was growing up, I wouldn’t have spend so many years hating myself without even realizing I was doing it.

Also, Cameroonians usually consider thick, curvy women to be the ideal beauty standard. But being thin is still an ideal broadcast by the media (especially that american and european media are heavily broadcast and consumed in Cameroon) so most women still diet a lot and go to the gym to lose weight.

  • Clothing

Women wear a lot of skirts and dresses, be it casual or for work. Most cameroonian schools have uniforms and mandatory hairstyles (either cornrows or short shaved hair).

Elderly people often wear more traditional clothes and outfits. The most prominent traditional item of clothing is the Kaba. The Kaba is a long dress made of wax fabric and other materials and is owned by pretty much every woman. The dress looks different depending on the situation : the Kaba you wear when you stay at home is usually very long and very loose, the Kaba you wear during official/formal events is more tight-fitting and stylized, etc.

  • Dating and Relationships

I’ve never dated anyone, but when I was in high school none of my friends ever told their parents they were seeing someone. Having your parents know about and meet the person you’re dating after only a few weeks or months is something that just doesn’t happen (unless someone gets pregnant). It’s when things get serious that you introduce them to your family. Also, a lot of parents would prefer their children to marry someone from the same ethnic group.

Homosexuality is still illegal there, and you can go to jail for being gay.

  • Home/Family life

My parents are still happily married, and I have 3 siblings. My parents are both close to their siblings, and I’m close to mine. Me and my siblings grew up with our cousins, we were always at each other’s houses. I pretty much consider most of my cousins as extra siblings. We have a very big extended family and every day I discover new distant cousins, aunts, great-uncles etc. My dad being half-french, when I was growing up we sometimes went to France during summer to visit his relatives living there.

In Cameroon, most people who have enough money to do so send their children to study abroad once they’ve graduated high school. I’m currently living in France for my studies, and most of my high school friends are also going to college in France, England, Canada, Brussels, South Africa etc.

  • Identity issues

Despite being only ¼ white, I’m very light-skinned. My siblings being much darker skinned, when I was a kid I thought I was adopted (i’m not, it’s just genetics). Cameroon being a black country, when someone is visibly mixed and light-skinned as i am, most people just label them “white”. A lot of people would refer to me as “the white” and it always really hurt me. My family wouldn’t understand why i was so angry and hurt, they’d say “they don’t mean anything by it, it’s just that you’re light” but the fact is it made me feel like i don’t belong. I’m cameroonian, i’ve lived in Cameroon almost my entire life, i’m black, and still some people see me as “other”, they see me as white. And so for a long time, I didn’t dare to call myself black, I’d say “I’m biracial” or “I’m mixed” instead because I somehow felt like a fraud. But I’m black and not white-passing at all, and I still experience racism abroad (but I’m aware I have a lot more privilege than dark skinned people).

  • Daily struggles

So I’m currently living in France. On one hand, sometimes white people are racist toward me, or just totally obnoxious and ignorant, trying to touch my natural hair and thinking that people in Cameroon don’t have computers or whatever. On the other hand, when I randomly meet other cameroonians and we start talking, they always assume that because i’m mixed i’ve lived my entire life in France and i don’t know anything about Cameroon. And there’s nothing wrong with being a child of immigrants and not knowing the country your parents or grandparents came from, but i know that if i wasn’t visibly mixed they wouldn’t question the fact that i know Cameroon and lived there my entire life.

  • Misconceptions

Because of how the media depict African countries, a lot of people think that everyone in Africa is extremely poor and starving, that we don’t have electricity and internet and that everyone lives in huts. Which is so false. We have rich people and poor people, we have huge modern cities and regular cities and small villages with huts, almost everyone has access to a tv and internet, etc.

  • Things I’d like to see less of

Cameroon and other african countries being depicted as poor unfortunate countries where everyone is starving and illiterate and waiting for the generous white people to save us. What we need is for people to see us as the humans we are, and to allow us to grow in peace.

  • Things I’d like to see more of

Black african characters being written as the complex human beings we are. Shy black african characters. Nerdy and hella smart black african characters. Mixed black african characters who struggle with their identity. LGBTQ black african characters.

  • Tropes/Stereotypes I’m tired of seeing.

The “savage”, “uncivilized” african. African characters who are aggressive, dumb and shout all the time. The poor africans in need of saving by white people.

i have to say all of these hot takes about mlm fetishization being precisely the same thing as cishet men jacking it to w/w content is not a good look on yall and completely lacks acknowledgment of how misogyny and homophobia affect how men treat wlw whereas women getting off on m/m content is solely based from homophobia, which is harmful and dangerous but doesn’t necessitate comparison. this topic is beyond tired. saying it’s the same thing as gross w/w fetishy men is so next level unaware of how misogyny works and i really wish yall would stop making posts like that

anonymous asked:

Google "Dutch braids" before spewing racism. Seriously, Google it. I wish I could be a fly on the wall when you see what comes up. White women can't wear it, eh? Well, tell that to the Dutch of 900 AD...

You’re a bug already honey. That post EXPLICITLY points out white people wearing braids popularized by BLACK people, specifically in a ‘hip hop’/’urban’ context. Don’t get all twisted up bc you put your hair in braids a while back and thought you looked fly like all of those instagram girls, boo. You, Katy Perry, and all other ugly-hearted little white girls can get fucked and just admit that you’re commodifying Blackness like everyone else.

Oh and by the way? Here’s the really fun part: when it comes to that double-braid, ain’t NO ONE IN AMERICA dressing like a Dutch person. Every single person wearing that hairstyle on trend today is hearkening back to either girls in the hood or native americans. Why? Bc white people hate being white and don’t carry their own cultures. Which is why you have ppl wearing double braids and hoop earrings with long acrylics, double braids and typing in AAVE, double braids and ‘free spirit’ fashion and a ‘boho’ headband. No one cares about your Dutch shit at all honey and you know it. Thing is, that’s y’all’s fault.

So take a sip of that. You were a damn fool to come to my inbox with this foolishness first thing in the morning.

And bitch? Telling white people they’re appropriative isn’t racism. White people being appropriative is. Get the fuck away from me you disgusting little snowflake oppressor.

anonymous asked:

I have a theory about Rincewind. We all know that Esk is the female Wizard but narritive convention would dictate that she have a counterpart. What if the reason Rincewind isn't good at wizard magic is because he's more suited to witchcraft then wizardry? Has anyone talked about this before? I want fanfiction of this...

“I can’t be having with this,” Granny said, each word sharpened to points and enunciated with the accuracy of a champion knife-thrower outlining an unlucky target. Her glare was focused like a laser. It looked as though it could shatter rocks and burn cities to the ground. It was only slightly undercut by the enormous array of novelty candles that adorned Nanny Ogg’s mantelpiece.
Rincewind, the unfortunate soul in her cross-hairs, shrank a little deeper into his armchair. He rather felt he couldn’t be having with this either, and tried to say so, but the old woman’s look seemed to have fused his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

Keep reading

dragon age starters

feel most free to change pronouns ,  etc .

❝ it doesn’t matter that they won’t remember me. what matters is i helped. ❞
❝ bad things should happen to bad people. ❞
❝ i’m here to set things right. also ? to look dashing. that part’s less difficult. ❞
❝ planning has never been my strong suit . now, killing…killing & love-making. those i am better at. ❞
❝ oh ! we could get matching outfits ! ❞
❝ i’m not saying i should be your first pick for a dance partner at the ball , but in the deep roads , i’m your man / woman. ❞
❝ draw your weapon & say that again ! ❞
❝ we’re here to kill them all, yes ? for sport ? ❞
❝ you tend to get up to interesting things. you meet interesting people & then you kill them. ❞
❝ i never worry, darling. a leash can be pulled from either end. ❞
❝ it’s like you need permission to be alive. ❞
❝ has anyone told you what marvelous eyes you possess, my dear ? ❞
❝ have you ever licked a lamp post in winter ? ❞
❝ i’ll try not to hit anyone. ❞
❝ there you are. everyone’s been looking for you. ❞
❝ the last man standing gets final say on who is right or wrong. ❞
❝ i like my hair the way it is, thank you. ❞
❝ do you think about how to kill everyone you meet ? ❞
❝ are you… sassing me, ____? ❞
❝ yes, but she/you seems more… “ooh, pretty colors !” than “muahaha ! i am princess stabbity ! stab, kill, kill ! ❞
❝ congratulations ! you have found a wastebin . ❞
❝ what are you going to do with that sword ? ❞
❝ not listening ! la la-la la la ! ❞
❝ i saw you looking at the girl/boy in town earlier . ❞
❝ anyone wishing to accuse me of weakness is welcome to try. ❞
❝ …did you cut your own hair ? ❞
❝ ”one by one they follow, drowning in the sea”. the rest of the poem is sad.. ❞
❝ you aren’t all stone, ____. there is a person inside of you. ❞
❝ we crush the heads of rude women when we feel like it. just so you know. ❞
❝ protect what matters with everything you have, or you’ll have nothing, and deserve it. ❞
❝ i want you to know that what we had was real. ❞
❝ in the end you are always alone with your actions. ❞
❝ somebody’s been drinking. ❞
❝ let’s show them our hearts, and then show them theirs.. ❞
❝ do you feel that ? my magic-sensing nose is tingling. ❞
❝ well, shit. ❞
❝ you worry me, you know that ? ❞
❝ i’m cold. & it’s indoors. this is so wrong. ❞
❝ i saw what you were doing back there. ❞
❝ we will never speak of this again. ❞
❝ you’re a big softie ! ❞ 
❝ i’ve got just the thing to cure that pout. ❞
❝ eight, nine, now you die. ❞
❝ daughters never grow up. they remain six years old with pigtails & skinned knees forever. ❞
❝ i don’t need my pants, anyway. ❞
❝ smiles. we must be careful how we present ourselves. ❞
❝ be careful what you wish for. power is treacherous. i have seen many people–great leaders–consumed by it. ❞
❝ don’t touch me ! stay away ! ❞
❝ i think of him/you/her as much as he/you/she thinks at all. ❞
❝ i knew nothing of friendship before we met. ❞
❝ you can approve or not approve as you wish, but this is one thing you cannot influence and mold to your liking. ❞
❝ there you go, breaking my heart. ❞ 
❝ does anyone else feel the verge to vomit? ❞
❝ i…love you. just… wanted to tell you that. ❞
❝ let those who would destroy us step into the light. ❞
❝ it’s dangerous when too many men in the same armor think they’re right. ❞
❝ if you love a character, you give them pain, ruin their lives, make them suffer. maybe even throw in a heroic death. ❞
❝ i do quite like watching you leave. ❞
❝ send him a fruit basket. everyone loves those. ❞
❝ did i stutter ? ❞
❝ are you kidding ? i’m surprised you didn’t kill anyone just coming over here. ❞
❝ the world may want my time, but you have my heart ❞
❝ have you ever heard the saying ‘let sleeping abominations lie’?  now would be the time to consider it. ❞
❝ that sounded much better in my head . ❞
❝ i have an excellent sense of dramatic timing. & good hair.  ❞
❝ the air hurts. i have to stop. ❞
❝ challenge someone to arm-wrestle me. ❞
❝ so, you’re not like a lot of other girls/boys. ❞
❝ not long ago this was impossible to imagine. you, the man i love, victory close at hand. ❞
❝ how do you do that ? make everything better with a smile ? ❞
❝ it gets no easier. your struggles have only just begun. ❞
❝ there comes a time when you must stop running, when you turn & face the tiger.  ❞
❝ it’s family, you protect. doesn’t matter who it is, blood or not. ❞
❝ perhaps we should carve our names into the giant tree ? ❞
❝ hey ! that’s mine ! ❞
❝ our mistakes make us who we are. ❞
❝ fear makes men more dangerous than magic ever could. ❞
❝ don’t let anyone tell you when to move on. take their hand & say, “my choice". ❞
❝ words are easy, like the wind; faithful friends are hard to find. ❞
❝ shitballs. fuck. shit. crap. ❞
❝ living a lie … it festers inside you, like poison. ❞

C: Sometimes I feel pressure as a black woman to look perfect. Not only do we have to look sensational to get just as much praise as the average white girl. But I also don’t feel like I can be undone. My edges aren’t always laid, my hair is unruly at times, my highlight isn’t always popping and my clothes look like I raided a thrift store. I wish I could look the way I want without the fear of judgement.

anonymous asked:

I wish to apologize in advance if this is a rude question, but out of curiosity which bathroom does Frisk use? I know it's weird and most likely rude to ask, but do they feel more comfortable using the women's or men's room? Or do they switch out to whichever is most convenient, has the shortest line or most clean? Again, I apologize if it's a rude question.

It’s random and arbitrary and definitely based on which one is cleaner and has the shortest line. They are basically never bothered about it either because they look so ambiguous.
-TQ

anonymous asked:

can you please do a fic of elide and lorcan arguing infront of the entire court with everyone watching????? PLEASE?!

A misunderstanding leads to an argument and eventually a blushing/happy ending! 

A few silky strands of black starless night hair fell from Elide’s coiled bun as she briskly walked through the castle halls. Her gait uneven as her ankle twinged in pain, but she paid no attention to it. Just like she ignored the pounding steps that could be heard toward the castle’s entryway.

“Elide!” The walls shook at the deep sound of the male’s furious tone.

Her steps did not falter, but her heart did.

No. Do not feel guilty.

She stepped into the throne room hoping to use it as a shortcut to her guest room during her time Ornyth. A locked door wouldn’t stop him, but maybe he would reconsider and calm himself before approaching her.

“ELIDE!” Lorcan’s voice boomed. Much closer than Elide expected.

“What the hell is going?” Aelin drawled from her throne. Her calm demeanor made Elide walk faster toward her Queen. Rowan looked between Elide and the door she had just walked through.

Lysandra stood nearby with Aedion at her side. Both with varying looks of confusion until their nostrils flared. Lysandra’s eyes narrowed and glowed with the hint of her snow leopard form prowling underneath.

Rowan and Aedion eyes trained on something behind Elide. Their stances were rigid in anticipation at whatever storm had just entered the room.

Elide didn’t have to turn around to know who stood behind her. She could feel his dark presence wrapping around her body like a cloak.

“Elide,” Lorcan growled. His voice barely understandable.

“Not now Lorcan,” Elide said sharply. She was not about to have this conversation in front of Aelin’s Court.

“When? After you lock yourself in your room and refuse to see me?” Lorcan moved to stand in front of Elide. Blocking her path to the set of doors that would lead her to the guest rooms.

“Well at least that would give you plenty to take Essar back to your room then wouldn’t it?” Elide replied with a glare.

“Essar is here?” Rowan raised a brow at Aelin who shrugged one shoulder. They were expecting the fae female for some time now. Apparently Elide was never notified that Essar was a previous lover of Lorcan’s. Aelin almost pitied the male if it wasn’t for the fact that Elide’s statement made her question that pity.

“Essar and I are nothing,” Lorcan said. His long dark hair fell over his equally dark eyes. “There was never any love between us. Perhaps one-sided affection from her, but that quickly diminished.”

“Then explain to me exactly what I overheard in the market today,” Elide bit out. “In fact I’m sure other witnesses would wonder why my mate had agreed to meet some other woman in his room later!”

Aelin and the others blinked in surprise. Both that the Elide’s statement and her furious tone that would have brought lesser men quaking in their boots.

Except Lorcan was not just any man. He was a fae male hardened by centuries of gory battles. He simply narrowed his eyes at the shorter female fuming before him.

“Perhaps if you would listen then I can explain-”

“Oh this out to be good,” Lysandra murmured to Aedion.

Lorcan shot the female shifter a glare before returning his attention back to Elide. “I am not meeting Essar for…intimate relations.”

Elide rolled her eyes. “No need to act innocent with your words Lorcan. We both know your experience with woman,” she turned her head away to glare at the grey stonewalls covered in Terrasen banners. “I just thought you only devoted yourself to one woman at a time,” Elide finished despondently. Wondering if their bond as mates wasn’t a good enough reason for Lorcan. Or if Elide was lacking in some way.

Lorcan snarled. His canines showed clearly with his next words. “You’re right,” his words lashed out even though a part of his mind urged him to stop. Hellas reached to leash in Lorcan’s rage as he sensed Elide’s anger and self-doubt. But if Elide wanted brutal honesty then Lorcan would channel it with his words. “I’ve bedded too many women to count and only saw them for what they could offered inside a bedroom.”

“Then what’s stopping you now!” Elide choked back tears. “It’s not like you haven’t crushed my heart before so why stop now?”

Lorcan winced.  Elide bit her bottom lip. Wishing too late that she hadn’t brought up his betrayal that happened years ago on beach that still brought back horrid memories. Elide could still remember her tear’s falling to the sand as Aelin’s blood dripped down her back from whip lashings.

The throne room was silent. Aelin and the others stood watching what would happen next.

Lorcan went deathly still. His onyx eyes dulled in the memory that Elide dredged up from his past. A decision he made that he’s regretted each day since.

Elide watched Lorcan carefully. She saw the pain of his actions flicker in eyes like a glint of a blade. Opening a wound that hadn’t healed and probably never would.

Her hand clenched into a small fist. Shaking from her emotions that were suffocating her. A slight nudge, perhaps from Anneith or the bond she shared between Lorcan, made Elide slowly reach out. Her shaking fingers grazed his scarred dark hand intending to grasp it. To apologize for letting her anger and sadness get the better of her. By inflicting a barbed statement that cut him to the core.

Such a pathetic little girl. Vernon’s vile voice crept into her mind. You couldn’t save Kaltain nor could you stop your Queen from being whisked away by Maeve. And now your mate seeks the bed of another. You are worthless to them Elide-

“Don’t,” Lorcan’s command halted Elide’s thoughts with frightening severity. He had only said the words to seize the negative thoughts that plagued her mind. But Elide didn’t know that. She thought he didn’t want her touching him.

Her fingers fell from his. The loss of that brief warmth severed something inside Elide. She barely held back the hot tears threatening to stream down her face.

Lorcan wondered how this woman before him could utterly have him at her mercy in a single word. How those tears in her eyes could break him more than a hundred years worth of bloody battles.

He could feel her retreating. The bond confirming his suspicions as he felt a wall being drawn up between them. But he heard her thoughts clearly as if she had spoken them. Her bastard of an uncle tainting her mind with false whispers even though he had long since died by the hand of Lorcan’s merciless hatchet.

Elide’s breath hitched as she turned to leave him as tears finally fell.

“Don’t,” Lorcan repeated. His arm grabbed her elbow and he could tell the others in the room tensed.

She looked up at him with a harsh face with wet trails down her cheeks. “Take your hand off me.” The words were quiet, yet deafening in Lorcan’s ears.

He had always given her space when requested. Knew that there were boundaries not to be crossed. But this moment Lorcan broke that unspoken rule between them.

His mouth tightened as his hand gradually drifted down to take her hand – her fingers dwarfed in his.

“Do not think for one second,” Lorcan began. “That you are pathetic or worthless.”

Elide stilled. Her heartbeat fluttering rapidly in her chest like a hummingbird’s wings. She did not respond to Lorcan’s words.

Lorcan leaned down. His dark hair brushed against her as his forehead rested gently against hers.

“Elide Lochan, Lady of Perranth, you have faced monsters that even the strongest fae warriors would cower at,” Lorcan said. His breath mingling with Elide’s. “You’ve dedicated yourself to assisting your Queen and friends even at the risk of your own life countless of times. You were significant and vital to Terrasen’s growth after years of agony.”

Lorcan paused. Waiting until Elide looked up at him with tired eyes glimmering in hope. “You are invaluable. Precious. And I love you more than anything in this world or the next.”

Elide blinked. “But…Essar-”

“Is in the past like the other women who agreed for simple sex. Nothing more.” Lorcan said. “But Elide…you’re my salvation. A future I can only hope to prove each day that I’m worthy of you.”

“Then why is she coming to your room?” Elide’s free hand fisted into the fabric above her heart. Wishing to push back the pain that pounded with each beat 

“Because I have unfinished documents in my room that I need to give her, but someone,” Lorcan set a seething glare at Rowan. “Never signed his signature which is why Essar now has to come here since the signatures need to be conducted in a magically sealed room.”

“He is right,” Rowan interjected. “Since Lorcan and I are signing off on the treaties between Wendlyn cities and Terresan we figured it would be best to do so in an room without threat of intrusion or magic seeping in. We concluded that by using Lorcan’s room he could ward the room while Essar and I finished signing the last papers.”

“So Lorcan’s purpose in this treaty is for his magical shields?” Aedion pondered.

“We would have used the main room or even mine and Rowan’s room,” Aelin said. “But Lorcan balked at the idea saying that the room would probably smell of-”

“There is no need to say it!” Lorcan interrupted with a slight blush on his dark cheeks. “We know how often you and Rowan spend in that room. And we all know you are not just sleeping in there.”

 Aelin grinned with a teasing glint in her eye.

 “What’s wrong Lorcan. Surely you aren’t embarrassed to be in a room where Rowan and I spend hours fu-”

 “Aunt Aelin!” Evangeline bounded into the throne room with a stumbling maid trailing after her.

 “I’m sorry my Queen, but miss Evangeline insisted on seeing you and the others,” the maid gasped before Aelin dismissed her with a brief nod.

 Lorcan thanked the gods for Evangeline’s interruption. But the knowing look in Elide’s eyes made him sweat nervously.

 “So,” Elide whispered in his ear. “You hosted the treaty signings in your room because you didn’t want to be in a room where Aelin and Rowan had…intimate relations?” She added the last part with a wink.

 Lorcan groaned. “Can we please not bring this up again?”

 Elide laughed and the others in the room that heard her laugh knew that the misunderstanding between her and Lorcan had cleared up.

 “Perhaps, but only if you make it up to me,” Elide brushed a hand down Lorcan’s firm chest. His muscles twitched underneath her nimble fingers.

 “Elide,” Lorcan’s tone deepened. His eyes focused intently on the little smirk playing on Elide’s soft lips before she turned away and walked toward the others who were listening intently to what Evangeline was saying.

 Late that night, long after the citizens of Ornyth slumbered, two mates were still awake. Their limbs tangling in bed sheets. The female sighed as the male kissed her cheeks and moved down and further down until her sigh became his name gasped into the night. And it wouldn’t be the last. Her mate fully intended to spend most of the night seeing to the needs of the woman who he loved to fiercely and tenderly.

When morning light illuminated the sky. Lorcan and Elide lingered in bed. Perfectly content to pass the hours in the arms of each other with faint smiles on their lips.

Charles Xavier x reader (yes, another one)

Originally posted by julee-art

“Y/N, could you please come to my office for a second?” You heard Charles’s voice ring in your head.

“What is it Charles? Can’t you tell me now?” You asked turning pages in the book you were reading.

“I would prefer you coming here darlin’. It’s important.” You sighed and put the book down.

“Alright professor. I’m coming.”

“Thank you dear.” You walked up the stairs of the busy school. It was filled with children of all ages. From afar you could see Hank desperately trying to rush some of them into a classroom but that didn’t seem to work very well. You giggled and walked down the corridor to the professor’s office. You knocked twice and entered the room.

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tbh being sapphic and having huge self esteem/body image issues is the very embodiement of ‘do i want to do her or do i want to be her’ but in a tragic way like…i literally can’t let myself enjoy my attraction for girls bc the way i view and approach other women is so deeply rooted in my own insecurity and toxic relationship with my body that my 'oh my god i wish i looked like her’ meeting my attraction/crush becomes a deadly mix that culminates in me always feeling inferior and unworthy of the women i like

Boys want the pretty girls
they say
but who are those pretty girls?

The ones with long nails
and clothes made from magazines

the ones with straight hair
pretty, long, straight hair
hair that goes through fingers
as smooth as compliments from boys lips
because its just so pretty

Are pretty girls the ones
with a size like the dolls
in store windows
when you pass them late at night
and the only light you see
is the sparkling dress
on a petite, lifeless body

or are they the ones
with bright blue eyes
and a smile as bright
as the sunlight
or lips made from the most
luscious colour of pink

are they the ones with flawless skin
and long lashes
and rosy cheeks
and jewellery as exquisite
as the purest river on earth

pretty girls have curves and boobs
and every other part of their body
is made for the hands of boys only
every inch fitted perfectly
for hungry fingers
to sink in and do themselves a favour

pretty girls are tall
and well shaped
and sexy
and touchable
and fuckable

pretty girls
are what boys dream about at night
when loneliness lingers
in the pit of their stomach

pretty girls are like deer
in a cage of wolves
who gets them first
will tear them down
and feed from them
until their soul feels full again

but what about the other girls
the ones who are made
as an image of mother nature

with hair as thick as the branches
and eyes as colourful as the deepest forest
with shapes like the strongest trees
and skin as rough as the ground
you wish you could walk on to feel safe

who decided what was pretty
who decided that this entire landscape
of amazingly beautiful women
is living in the shadows

why cant every girl be pretty
not all flowers look the same

but until my hair grows long
and my boobs get bigger
and my eyes bluer
and my body fuller
and my skin clearer
and my smile brighter
and my
oh my

until I am pretty
i want to grow
so i can love my
pretty
lovely
stunning
amazing
and absolutely beautiful
brothers and sister
for what they are
not as a body
but as a soul

— 

Pretty Girls

Love yourself, you are a goddess, no matter what.

archiveofourown.org
Human Connection

Cat meandered through the twisted wreckage of desks and chairs. She took her time, stepping over fallen light fixtures and scattered pieces of decor. There were holes in the drywall and several of the mounted television screens lay smashed on the floor. The Daxamites had done a number on CatCo.


Still, she couldn’t help the small quirk of her lips as she surveyed the place, her place. Noticing one of the large CatCo magazine cover prints on the floor near her feet, Cat bent down to pick it up. She remembered this one. It was August, two thousand ten. It had been one of their best selling issues, thanks to an exclusive interview with Michelle​ Obama. She remembered all of the covers.


Walking to the wall, Cat reached up to hang the frame back in its place. She tilted her head and, with the tip of her finger, scooted the frame into a perfectly straight position. With a satisfied, “Hmm,” and a tiny pop of her shoulders, Cat made her way to her office.

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anonymous asked:

credit to zens-ponytail for this idea! jumin bringing his s/o to his home for the first time and his DAD JUST STARTS hitting on her?? and jumin sees and gets REALLY PISSY?????

oh goodness
~Mod L

“Are you ready to go?”
You spun around to face Jumin, smiling softly. “Do I look okay?”
He gently took your hand and kissed it. “Must you ask? You look stunning as always”.
You giggled, intertwining your hand with his. “Good! This is my first official introduction with your dad, and I want to make a good impression”.
“Don’t worry too much. It’s impossible for anyone to dislike you”.
“You’re too kind. Let’s go~”

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