If You Get This, Answer With 3 Random Facts About Yourself And Send It To The Last 7 Blogs In Your Notifications,

if you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! let’s get to know the person behind the blog! ❤️

1. I’m a middle child

2. My favorite types of architecture are Italianate and gothic architecture

3. When I was little I was scared of jacuzzis

Thanks for this @yer-erster <33

it's a special kind of tragedy when children aren't allowed childhoods.

this is possibly one of the cutest things I’ve ever read,your writing is so great <33 somehow I’m more of a lesbian now

༄ you're a peach!

pairing; chris noel x lesbian!reader

summary; nothing on earth can compare to a picnic date with your girlfriend under the shade of a large oak tree

words; 729

warnings; mentions of food

request; hi i love your writings <3 i was wondering if you could write some headcanons or fic for chris noel x lesbian!reader picnic date - anon

a/n; hi, thank u so so much!! of course i can,, i luv that girl sm so this was super fun to write <3 thanks for the request angel!!

summer had come yet again, making its presence known by the growing heat that begged you to swap your comfy sweaters for something lighter and more breathable. the sun hung high in the sky, driving you and chris to seek relief under the arms of a large oak tree.

the grass was soft beneath your body, swaying slightly in the gentle breeze that blew now and again. you took a strand of chris's hair between your fingers, twirling the golden strands that glimmered as they caught the sun, before you tucked it behind her ear. she smiled under your touch, eyes closing in bliss as she placed your open palm against her cheek. her skin was warm to the touch and she looked as though she were glowing. she was your own angel, all rosy cheeks and bright smiles, clad in a white summer dress.

"you're so pretty." the words had left your mouth without quite registering, the brutal honesty slipping from your lips without a second thought. you didn’t regret it though. chris deserved to be complimented, to know just how perfect she was.

"and you're absolutely gorgeous, y/n." she opened her eyes, meeting yours with a tender gaze. she placed a kiss to your palm, breath tickling the pad of your hand as she giggled lightly. "should we start eating now? i'm quite hungry."

humming in agreement, you dragged your body upwards in order to grab the handle of the wicker basket filled with treats you’d brought along. a grunt left your lips, the heat making any form of exertion tiring. chris sat up on her palms, watching you sort through the contents of the picnic blanket with an affectionate smile as if you were ransacking a treasure chest. you might as well have been, as the food inside was just as pleasing.

tucked neatly into the basket were sandwiches that chris had cut neatly into triangles, croissants and cake slices you’d bought from the bakery that morning, heaps of fresh fruit and chocolate coated strawberries. it was a feast perfect for royalty; fitting, as chris deserved to be treated as such.

chris had also brought along some sparkling grape juice and champagne flutes so you could feign a life of luxury to any onlookers who may pass by. you laughed as she led you in a grand ‘cheers’, ignoring the droplets that spilled over onto your palm.

“to us!” she chorused, raising the glass high in the air before taking a sip.

“to us!” you repeated, sharing the same vigour as she’d displayed.

effortless conversation floated through the air as you both ate, making your way through the incredible treats one by one.

“hold on,” you paused, leaning towards her. “you have something, wait, let me get it.”

your thumb swiped at the crumb that sat against her lip like a drop of white snow against a pink rose, flicking it away dismissively and smiling at her once more.

“got it.”

“why thank you.” she giggled. “my hero.”

you rolled your eyes yet bowed as well as you could from your seated position, tipping an imaginary hat at her praise.

scouring the basket, you grabbed a delicate looking peach, colour so soft yet so bold and vibrant - quite like your beautiful girlfriend who sat only a few feet away. she had a personality so sweet, not a single bad bone in her body, you were sure, yet she was still able to be strong and assured, a gait she balanced so perfectly it was uniquely her.

it was whilst you were excitedly trying to point out a passing dog, gesturing wildly with your hands, that the peach slipped out of your grip, narrowly avoiding hitting chris square in the face as it rolled away. your jaw dropped, a few shocked laughs coming from your mouth as you apologised profusely, the small pomeranian now forgotten amidst your mistake.

delicate fingers lifted the fruit that had escaped from your grasp, holding it out to you with a smug expression.

“i believe you lost this?”

you took it with a scoff, promptly taking a bite of the sweet fruit and humming at the taste.

“thanks. you’re a peach!” you declared, pinching her cheek obnoxiously and ignoring her groan of distaste at your, arguably terrible, attempt at a joke.

“please tell me that nickname won’t stick.”

“no promises, peach.”

its probably obvious by now that endings are not my strong point, but what can we do. hope you like it, feedback/reblogs are much appreciated loves <33

taglist; @thesilverskull @pretentious-strikes @lilgayn00dle @tall-my-beloved @caffeineconstellations @aesthetixxluv @star-dust-2317

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i have thought a lot about censorship and what is “appropriate”. not a lot of people know this, but lolita was written to show what we allow on our bookshelves: there being no swear words in it meant it was free from censorship. a book about child molestation was allowed because it didn’t explicitly use the word “fuck”. he wrote it to show we don’t really care about protecting children, and it ended up being seen as a romance.

someone once told me - actually, many people have - that lgbt content isn’t appropriate for children. any content. not just kissing. i’m drowned in questions: “won’t the parents have to explain it?” “kids shouldn’t be thinking about sex at this age, or do you think differently?” “what will the kids think?”

at six i saw disney movies. people kiss and get married. i didn’t ask “what does that mean.” i didn’t ask “are those people going to have sex?” i didn’t ask anything, because i was six, and no six year old thinks twice about these things. nobody ever “explained” being straight to me, it was a fact, and it existed, and i was fine with that. why would being gay require a thesis, i wonder.

someone once told me that the one of the reasons people hate lgbt individuals is because they can’t see us as anything but sexual. we’re not people, so much as sinners. that they don’t see love, they see sex. just sex. it’s perversion, not a matter of the heart. only of the body.

i think i was in my early twenties before i saw someone like me. 

how old were you, though, before you saw violence? before you saw sexual assault on tv? i think something like that is only pg-13, and if it’s implied, they can get away with anything. i remember watching things and learning about blood, but knowing sex - sex was what was really wrong. sex was always rated r. sex was always kind of a bad word. i was told a lot that i wasn’t ready.

i had a dream last night that i made a site where people could ask any question they wanted about sex and get answered by a professional. it was shut down in moments because 15 year olds wanted to know if it should hurt, if “double-bagging” was a real thing, if this, if that. we shudder. don’t let the children know about that! 

but at thirteen i had seen enough violence it no longer struck me. i couldn’t say “fuck” but i knew that if you break your femur, you can bleed out internally in under half an hour. in school i wasn’t allowed to write about loving girls because what would the administration think - but i could write about wanting to kill myself and people would say how lovely, how blistering.

i have thought a lot about censorship. sometimes people on this site try it with me: don’t write this, don’t be so nasty. some of it is intrinsic. we know as people with a uterus not to complain about “that time of the month”, we know better than to talk about sexual assault (how shameful), we know that talking about a vagina is somehow scandalous. i can say “dick” and nobody questions me. some people only refer to the bottom half of me by “pussy”. they won’t wrap a mouth around “vagina” like it’s poison to them. even discussing this, that the language halts, that there’s an intrinsic desire to say “girls” instead of “women” - feels naughty, illicit. not for children.

the other day someone suggested i make my blog 18+. i said, okay, it deals a lot with depression and other problems that might be for a mature audience. oh no, they said, that’s not it, i think that’s helpful. i said, okay. so what is it then. well, you’re gay. you write about loving women. and i said, i don’t write about sex often and they said. it’s not about the sex. but wlw isn’t for a general audience. teenagers aren’t ready.

oh.

lolita is recommended for high school and up. i think about that a lot. i know girls who love it, who say it speaks to them on a deep level. it’s beautiful prose, after all. that was the whole point of the novel. something that looked like a rose but was intrinsically awful. i think about how if i was a model they’d want me to look young, thin, prepubescent. how my body would be sold and how through the mall i walk by images of barely-clothed women while mothers cannot breastfeed in public without fear of retribution. 

i think about how i can write a novel about violence and it will be pg-13 but if my characters say “fuck” twice it’s inappropriate. i said fuck three times so far in this post, which makes it only appropriate for adults. 

i think about that, and how my identity is something that people suggest lines up with a swear word. that people shouldn’t talk about it. that it’s a vulgarity. bad for children, harsh, confusing.

fuck. i love women. which one makes this only for those over eighteen.

just upset myself through an imagined conversation 😐

Reblog this if you think writing is an art

I literally had to reblog this twice in a row