#and i do often fall into the ''we'' thing

[robinsgrl]

FEARLESS

chapter three. boobs and beers

pairing ⇢ rafe cameron x plus size!reader

word count ⇢ 4.7k

warnings ⇢ fatphobia, insecurities, mention of a panic attack, boobies lol, uhmmmmm shopping as a fat girl, heather should be her own warning, daddy issues, mentions of alcoholism.

authors note ⇢ heyyyyy….. im sick and i am soooo fatigued but i wanted to release this, i’ve been spoiling the kildare nights readers and i needed to give fearless some attention. sorry for any mistakes queens, love you guys! gimme ur thoughts!!

“Why are we here?” You ask as he plops down onto the seat across from you at the mall food court. He slides over a cup of fro-yo at you. A frown falls to your lip when you take a peek in it. “You get plain fro-yo?”

His eyebrows furrow, shrugging. “Yeah?”

You scoff in pure disbelief as you glance into his own cup. Plain chocolate. “That’s… like… a crime.”

Getting up off your cold metal seat, you pick his cup as well and walk back into the frozen yogurt shop. The cute worker behind the register has a bored expression on her face until she spots you. A bright smile falls onto your face, as does hers, as you meet each other. “Heather.”

“Gorgeous!” She squeals happily as you walk over to the register with the tall guy trailing after you, watching the two of you curiously.

“My friend here, he doesn’t know the art of fro-yo. Is there any way we can add some toppings? Promise I’ll pay for every cent.” You ask her sweetly. The red head nods happily, ushering you to go on in.

You can feel Rafe’s eyes on you as you walk over to the toppings station. A wave of embarrassment flushes through you as you realize something. This makes you look fat. You are. You are a big girl but you try and hide it. With big sweaters, baggy jeans, eating small portions when out— not showing others that you come to the fro-yo place so often that the cashier knows you by name.

“My dad and I come here all the time.” You don’t mean for your words to sound so defensive but it’s what you’ve had to do most of your life. Defend yourself. “It’s the one thing he can afford.”

His eyebrows furrow, head tilting gently. You realize he’s not one for many words but his looks say a lot. He’s curious about you. And confused. “Isn’t your dad rich?”

You take a quick peek at him and feel a weight lift off your shoulders when you see his eyes have moved to scour the toppings. “Anthony isn’t my dad.”

He nods, ahh-ing. “Right, he’s your step-dad. What about your real father?”

You shrug lamely, not really wanting to talk about him. “Nothing. We just like fro-yo. Are you seriously putting Graham crackers in your fro-yo?” You ask, eyes wide and with a glint of disgust at his choice.

His eyes squint with annoyance as he looks up at you. “What’s wrong with Graham crackers?”

“Everything.” You reach over the toppings and scoop up a spoonful of gummy bears. “Graham crackers are like… green peppers on your pizza.”

This gets a reaction out of him. “You don’t like green peppers on your pizza?”

You scoff out a laugh, “I don’t know how we’re gonna get along with all these differences between us.” Your tone is playful as you speak this. You reach over and grab a few maraschino cherries and plop them on your fro-yo.

“Now that, I can get behind.” He scoops up the cherries and loads them into his cup. He’s scooping up Oreo crumbles beside you as you take him in. There’s a slight stubble growing on his jaw, a green baseball cap on top of his head. He's a lot more laidback than you’ve ever seen. He's usually in khakis and polo shirts. Today, he’s wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a baggy hoodie, with thick sneakers that you’re sure cost a fortune.

“You know,” you speak up after a moment, his eyes turning to you. You can’t make eye contact, eyes looking everywhere but his eyes. “We’re twins.”

“What?”

You point to his clothing and yours. You’re wearing baggy jeans and a baggy hoodie. “We’re dressed alike.” The two of you are done and back at the register, weighing your cups for the price. Heather begins ringing you two up and you’re about to swipe your credit card when he beats you to it. “I had that.”

But he ignores you as the payment goes through and Heather wishes you two a good day. “First things first,” you’re walking down the mall side by side, eating your fro-yo. “You need to stop dressing like me.”

“Hey, this is comfortable.” You defend yourself.

“Comfortable won’t get you anywhere. You have to show some cleavage every now and then.”

This offends you, a scoff leaving your mouth. You’re glaring up at him but he doesn’t seem to care, eyes moving to and fro, checking the mall out. “Why do I need to do that?”

“Real talk?” He asks you, eyeing you as if trying to see if you’ll get offended or not.

You take a deep breath in and nod. “You look like a little boy.”

You should be offended. But you can’t. Instead, a laugh bubbles out of you and you have to cover your mouth to hide it. “N-no, no I don’t.” But you don’t believe your own words. You sigh, eating another spoonful of fro-yo. “Okay thine.” If your mother were here you’d be getting a scold for talking with your mouth full.

Rafe simply rolls his eyes at the sight and hands you a napkin which you happily take. You chew on your cold gummy bears for a moment before speaking again. “Fine. I’m guessing that’s why we’re here?” You look around the mall with a soft and annoyed huff. “Where to first, sensei?”

You can see he’s visibly holding back a smile when he says— “Victoria Secret.”

The store is unbelievably pink. But your eyes flicker about the store and the mannequins with a sparkle to your eyes. You’d never stepped foot in this place unless Scarlett was at your side. Nothing about you ever felt sexy and she came here to feel sexy. So you never found your footing in the store. And now, with Rafe at your side, you feel even worse. Surface level, you only see undergarments for skinny people. Smaller people. And the idea of not finding anything and Rafe watching you get shut down makes you dread the rest of your day.

“Never seen someone look at mannequin boobs and frown.” You’re brought out of your painstakingly insecure thoughts at the sound of Rafe’s voice. You peek up at him and are surprised to see a softer look to him. Well, as soft as Rafe Cameron can get. “Seriously, it’s just bra shopping. And pantie shopping. I thought girls went crazy for this shit.”

“Okay, misogyny.” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. To anyone else, it would look like a natural pose but you’re hiding your chest, as if that would stop this from happening. “I’m just… shouldn’t I do something else before shopping?” You hope he understands what you mean.

But he doesn’t. He shakes his head, “nah.” His nonchalant response sends a twinge of annoyance through you, biting down on the inside of your cheek. He starts making his way into the store, too much interest in his face when you call out to him.

“Seriously, Rafe, I’m too big for this.” This stops him in his steps turning to you with a look on his face that you can’t decipher. Not that you ever can, Rafe Cameron is an incredibly hard person to read.

“There’s a plus-size section.” Are his words and you feel a wave of heat come over you. Your mouth twitches as you try to hide the shame you’re feeling. But it seems you and Rafe don’t have that in common— you wear your feelings on your face.

“Look before we… I should probably, I don’t know… lose some weight.” Is your response to him, eyes refusing to meet him at all.

He sighs loudly, and you sneak a glance at him to see him rubbing the inner corner of his eyes with what you think is annoyance. And this only worsens your intense feelings of insecurity. And he speaks, “you don’t need to lose weight to be hot, ___. You’ve got a stunning body, you just have to know how to work it.”

Your eyes widen as they meet him for the first time in a while. And oddly enough, you can see he’s telling the truth. You wanted to see a lie on his face. You wanted to be proved right and know that he’s just as disgusted by you as all the boys in your school. But you can’t find it. “Now, are you gonna keep fishing for compliments or are we gonna find a bra that makes your boobs pop?”

You bust out laughing at this, covering your face with your hands in a shy manner. “Fine, but you have to promise to never repeat the word Boobs to me. Like, ever again.”

“How about breasts?”

“Gross.”

—

One of the kind ladies in the shop finds a few pieces for you that fit well. Surprisingly, you have a good time. The lady is unbelievably kind and finds you matching sets. And you come to realize you’ve never had a positive female shopping experience.

Most of your shopping was done with Scarlett and your mother at your side. And they seemed to be the unstoppable duo that knew just how to put you down. Your mother would grab at your stomach when you tried on a shirt that didn’t fit quite right. “This is where you need to focus,” she’d point at the spots that she felt needed to be fixed. “Next time you’re at the gym, focus on this. Talk to my personal trainer, he’s there all the time.” You went to the gym the next day. Apparently, she had spoken to her trainer and he grabbed you in the same way your mother did. You never went back again.

Scarlett. She’d make it a competition. If you found a top that made your eyes crinkle with the thought of wearing it proudly, she’d find the smallest size there was and try it on. Once you’d see her walk out with a top you were carrying on your arm, you’d set it down. She puts you to shame every single time.

So, now that you’re in a new shop, wearing a new push-up bra that fits like a perfect corset for your chest, you feel anxious. Beyond anxious. There are people everywhere. Chats coming from every single direction. But the last thing you need is to have a panic attack in front of Rafe. You barely know the guy.

“Okay… so what now?” You ask, clearing your throat to push away the bad memories of the store.

“Now, we shop.”

It takes an hour. A long hour to walk throughout the store and have him pick out outfits for you. Having him know your size was absolutely terrifying. But he didn’t bat an eye as you told him and he jumped right into it. Every now and then, he’d find an ugly shirt and hold it up to you and he’d mutter a joke. Jonah would love this one, is his go to. And before you know it, you’re no longer on the verge of a breakdown.

You’re in the dressing room and for the first time in your life, you don’t worry about how you look. Or how the jeans fit you a little too snug around your hips. You don’t feel panic at the thought of trying clothes on in the stuffy dressing room.

You come out in the first outfit and Rafe immediately busts out laughing. The green jeans are ridiculously long and the top is a corset top with blue hand-drawn flowers on them and ridiculously large bows at the shoulder straps. You knew it was a joke outfit but it was nice to mess around.

You jokingly strut, pretending the room is a runway. “Keep it in your pants.” You laugh as you give him a spin and this only makes him laugh some more. You feel a sense of pride for making Rafe Cameron laugh. Sarah’s text flashes through your mind. A man who hasn’t smiled in years. And yet, he’s holding onto his side as you strike another odd pose.

“Alright, alright,” his smile is pretty, you notice. And contagious, unable to hide your own as you listen to him. “We need to get serious.” But he’s still chuckling. “Try on a real outfit this time.” So you do. He likes them all. A few shirts ride up over your belly a bit too much and some jeans don’t fit over your thighs but you leave the store with eight new outfits.

Usually, you leave with hurt feelings and nothing but.

You two are on the ferry back home when your day together is over. It’s a forty minute wade back but neither of you seem to care. He’s sipping his Big Gulp drink and watching as you try and balance the water bottle lid on your nose.

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to do.” There’s a tinge of amusement to his tone.

Your head is thrown slightly back as you keep trying but it’s to no avail, it keeps toppling over. With a huff, you pick the cap up and shove it into your pocket. “It’s a trick my dad usually pulls. It’s better with a quarter though.”

Avoiding the topic of your father is a skill you take pride in. Your mother always turns into a sobbing mess when you bring him up. Your step-dad isn’t ever really home and when he is, it’s awkward. The only person you could share him with was Scarlett. That was the one topic she never snarked at you over. Not to your face, at least.

“Can I ask?” You turn to him, criss cross on the bench that you two are sitting on, wind blowing your hair. You tuck a strand, nodding. “Where is your dad?”

“The cut.” You answer honestly. Your mother hides him from her new rich friends. She hides her past from all of her new rich friends. Her story isn’t as compelling as Ward Cameron’s. He built his way up. Your mother caught the attention of an older man and married him. She’s ashamed about it.

This seems to shock him but he’s not Rafe Cameron if he doesn’t try and hide it. “And you’re close?”

You shrug, turning to the cloudy sky. It’s easier to talk about hard things when you don’t have to look at anyone, you find. “We’re… we definitely have a relationship. But… it’s hard to build on it when my mother doesn’t know I’m talking to him.”

You can feel his eyes on you, mouth slightly parted as he takes your words in but you can’t turn to him. “She forbids you from seeing him?”

You hum a small ‘mhm’. “He’s a stain in her perfect life.”

“Not in yours?”

“He’s a…” you pause, searching for the proper words. “An escape. Like… in Coraline. The door. He’s my door to a… less suffocating world. Without the buttons, of course. And alcoholism.” You try to joke. He doesn’t find it funny, the look on his features softened and taking you and your words in. Letting them settle. “He’s not perfect. I get why my mom left him. Why she wanted better. He’s a drunk who can’t keep a steady job. When we go out, I buy us dinner. He couldn’t take care of my mom or me so…”

“So she found the next best thing.” He finishes off for you. You turn to him at this, nodding as your hair keeps blowing in the wind. You don’t feel exposed in the way you do when speaking of your father to anyone. Rafe’s not judging you or figuring out how to use it against you. His eyes are sincere. Face stoic, but his eyes are sincere. You hate eye contact but if it means getting a better grasp of Rafe, you’d never look away. And you don’t.

“What about you?” You ask with sincerity. “I heard the rumors. The Cameron men butting heads.” You admit sheepishly.

He sighs, turning away. It’s his turn to look away while speaking of the hard stuff in his life. He lays back on the bench seat, long legs stretched out and kicked back up on the rail. “Well… you know… fathers…” it doesn’t take much to see he doesn’t want to speak of it.

Instead, you nod, a small and sad laugh leaving you. “Yeah… fathers.”

The ferry stops at the port a while later after thirty minutes of talking about your classes to him. He’s dropping you off at home, bags of clothes at hand. “By the way, we’re going to a party tonight.” And he drives off, leaving you stumped.

—

—

Debut one of your new outfits. What the fuck does that mean? You can’t picture yourself going to a party in clothes that aren’t your comfortable ones. Your comfort hoodie and sweats are what you spend most of your time in when out of school.

Getting ready without a friend is depressing. Usually, you’d have Scarlett at your side fluffing up your hair and helping with your makeup. Not that you wore it often but on the rare occasions that you needed to go to an event with your family, she was by your side. And it was during those moments that her honest side shined the brightest. She was careful with you. Honest but not brutal.

You shake your head to get yourself to stop thinking about her. You don’t want to be affected. You don’t want her to have this much of a hold over you. You need to stop loving her.

“Woah, what happened to you?” Anthony’s voice is heard as you make your way to the door. You freeze in your step, not wanting to see him. Your mother had gone on a so-called spiritual retreat in Puerto Rico without telling you so now, you were under Anthony’s care. But he didn’t have kids of his own and you came to him when you were twelve years old, he never had to take care of you.

You turn in your spot, a stiff smile on your face. “Uhm… nothing. Just… going out… to watch a movie…”

He gives you a bore expression, hand in a bag of chips. “You don’t put on a mini-skirt to watch a movie. You’re going to a party, aren’t you? God, you’re a baby, you shouldn’t be wearing that.”

You scoff, “bye, Anthony.” You open up the door and slam it as he’s telling you to be careful.

Rafe’s truck is in your driveway and he’s standing out of it, leaning up against the hood. His eyes are closed and he’s bopping his head gently, singing a quiet song. The sound of your shoes hitting the gravel of the driveway catches his attention, eyes immediately opening and on you.

Your smile is shy as you hold your arms out, showcasing your outfit. It’s a black mini skirt matched with a simple black and low cut top, a leather jacket over it. Simple. But extravagant for you. “So… how do I look?” You really, really want to know.

His eyes are taking you in. Starting from the shoes you picked out, to your thick thighs, your hips, your waist, your chest (which you’re proudly wearing your push-up he bought you), your neck. And he settles on your face. Done up in makeup, hair let loose in its natural form. He gets up off the hood of his car and walks up to you. “You look…” he pauses, eyes flickering across your face again. He's lost in thought, eyebrows furrowed slightly, tongue lightly ghosting his dry lips. You nervously put your weight on your other foot, and this awakens him. “Fine. You look fine.”

“Oh.” You didn’t expect much. But you also didn’t expect very little. “I mean… like, if Jonah were to see me do you think he’d be… starstruck and completely in love.”

This gets something out of him, a small snort of a laugh. “Give a girl a push up bra and she thinks she’s a goddess.”

“Hey!” You laugh with disbelief as you walk after him, the two of you making your way to his truck. “You told me I need to be more confident!” He opens the passenger door with no qualms and helps you in. He closes your side of the door and hops into the driver's seat. “Okay, so what’s the game plan?” You ask as he starts driving out of your driveway, hand stretched behind your seat and looking back for any other cars.

“The game plan is,” he turns the wheel, the veins in his arms popping slightly but you have to force yourself to look away and straight at the road as he starts driving off. “Act nonchalant. People are going to notice the style change but you’re going to ignore it. If they ask, you simply wanted to try something new. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“So… if they compliment me, I… ignore it?”

“You’re hopeless. No, I mean, accept the compliments but brush off other comments.”

“Okay, I’m confused.”

He huffs and before you know it, the two of you are bickering. Back and forth. What he means. What you mean. It’s almost hard to remember that just last week you two weren’t even in the same world. Now, you’re in his truck, wearing the new clothes he bought you and bickering.

The walk into the party is nerve-wracking and all you can think of is how your thick thighs are in the wind. Which means you’re much colder than usual you’re not used to being cold outside, always so wrapped up in your warm clothes. You stop at the patio of the raging house, looking up at Rafe. “So… this is where we part ways?”

This visibly confuses him. “What? Why would we part ways?”

You shrug, “I don’t know… I didn’t come to parties often but the few events I went with Heather… we would part ways.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “That’s stupid. I’m here with you.”

“You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“I’m not being a dick.”

“That’s you being a dick. I’m not stupid for—“

“I’m not calling you stupid, god.”

“You’re here!” A loud squeal pulls you out of your mini argument with Rafe. Your eyes meet a pair of familiar brown ones. Sarah rushes to you immediately and practically jumps into your arms. You laugh happily as you hug her right back.

“I’m here!”

She pulls away from you with a small pour. She’s drunk. Kiara comes out from behind her, pulling you into a quick side hug. “Guess who else is here?” Sarah’s voice is loud as the four of you walk into the home which is blasting with music.

“Who?”

“Scarlett.” This makes your blood run cold. That little piece of confidence that you carried vanished. You weren’t feeling yourself anymore. She’d see you in your new outfit and would make fun of you.

“We’ve got your back.” Kiara’s arm wraps around your shoulders as you walk side by side. “You won’t have to deal with her alone.”

“By the way, you look so damn good!” Sarah squeals as you all make your way into the kitchen where Kie grabs a few beers and tosses one each to the group. Rafe catches his beer easily and when he notices the slight panic in your face, he catches yours next, opening it quickly for you. You take the beer mindlessly, listening to Sarah drunkenly babble. Kiara’s entertaining her, laughing when she says something she shouldn’t say far too loudly. And you find yourself enjoying it.

You always dreaded parties. When a kid went around inviting everyone, they’d stop with you and Scarlett but only invite her. They would barely spare a glance at you. And at the time, you told yourself it didn’t matter. You’d rather be at home and cuddled up in bed with your cat, binge watching a show. But this… you like this. You like that Kiara and Sarah are bringing you into the conversation even when you’ve been quiet for minutes. You like that Rafe’s by your side like a scary guard dog. Well, you don’t really like that part so much. People are staring. They aren’t used to the Rafe Cameron not having a baddie on his arm.

Kiara and Sarah are in the middle of dancing a silly dance in the kitchen when you turn to Rafe. “No ones even noticing me.”

He snorts out a scoff of a laugh. “I’ve caught like eight guys since we came in, looking at your boobs.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s not anyone noticing me. That’s them noticing my girls. And second, I told you not to say boobs to me.”

“Boobs. Boobs. Boobs. Boobs.”

“God, shut up. You’re gross. There’s no need to— stop!” Back to your bickering, a laugh leaving you when he just won’t quit it.

You’re both in a comfortable space when a shrill of a voice cuts you two off.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Time stands still for a second at the sound of Scarlett’s voice. You and your new friends immediately turn to look at her. And your eyes widen. You’re wearing the same skirt. A laugh bubbles out of Sarah and Rafe’s big hand covers her mouth to shut her up

“You know what I’m wearing.” You retort with a roll of your eyes. Heather angrily puts her red solo cup down, stomping closer to you.

“Do you know how embarrassing this is? You need to change!”

Kiara laughs at this. “Girl, get over yourself. It’s a skirt.”

Scarlett is very clearly exasperated. And upset. It’s weird seeing her so put off. Your eyes don’t leave her as she keeps throwing her tantrum. “It doesn’t even look good on you! You’re… you’re embarrassing yourself.”

Rafe is watching with an amused look to his face. He hadn’t seen the fight, only a few clips that were taken last minute. But he’d never seen them go head to head. And you know he’s been dying to. Rafe is many things but dramatically inclined was not one you had added to your list until recently.

You're about to answer. You’re about to fight back. You wouldn’t let her embarrass you in front of your new friends. Loud gasps and yells erupt when a drunk splashes onto Heather. “Dumb bitch!” It’s Sarah. She threw beer right at Heather’s face which is now dripping down to her clothes.

Scarlett, quick on her feet, grabs her own cup and tosses it. On you. You gasp for air as it falls in your nose. “What the fuck, Scar?! I didn’t do shit?!”

“For not fighting your own fucking battles!” She yells, so angry that her face is red. Which you’re sure is from embarrassment as well. “You’re weak! Always have been and always will be!”

Kiara gets in between the two of you, “back the fuck up.” She hisses. “She’s with us now.”

Scarlett laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world. She looks behind Kiara and glares harshly at you. “Hanging with the pogues? Seriously? This is a new level of trashy. Even for you.”

“Alright, alright,” it’s rafe now that grabs your arm and starts dragging you away. “You guys are very dramatic.” He tells you as he takes to the other side of the house in the living room.

But you’re frowning. It’s hard not to be upset. And you’re dripping with beer. “My outfit…” you pull your arm from his, stopping. In turn, this stops him and he turns to look down at your sad figure. “It’s ruined…”

He’s quiet. And you’re about to tell him it’s time to call it a night. His hand grabs your chin, making you look up at him. There’s a look of determination on his face, which shocks you greatly. “You’re not giving up. I’m gonna make sure Jonah sees you for the hot piece of ass you are, alright?”

His words send a hot flush through your body. You hate how shy you get when he’s nice. Or when he’s trying to be nice. Even during his kind moments, he’s abrasive. But you’re learning to take him as he is.

“Now, push those boobs up and be confident.”

“Stop saying boobs!”

—

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[devil-in-hiding]

I had this idea last night and it’s been eating away at me since:

Childhood best friend!Simon who left when he joined the military. Cbf!Simon who, after finding his family murdered, disappears again -or so you think. Simon, who spends every night he’s in town at your place while you sleep. Who sees that you kept his old jumper, the one he gave you before he left. He sees how you hold it and cuddle it, holding it to your nose as if hoping it still smelled like him after all these years. He can’t give you a new one, but he can make this one smell like him again. When you’re out buying groceries, so much more often than usual, it seems, he takes the jumper and rubs in against himself; his armpits, the back of his neck, and then, against his cock and balls as the scent of you fills his nose.

You seem to sleep better that night.

Other things start to change too. He now starts to touch you as you sleep. Just brushing his hands against your hair. Feather-light touches that are almost impossible to feel.

He does darker things too. You are, thankfully, single. And he makes sure you stay that way. Your nice lotion gets an extra load of five of protein. Your blind dates mysteriously stop texting you back. You’re getting /frustrated/ which leads to a night with your vibe and dildo (much smaller than his, Simon notes. He’ll have to change that). Your little moans and whines make it almost impossible for him to not barge into your room and take you. But Simon Riley is nothing if not patient. When you finally fall asleep, one hand still clutching your dildo, he sneaks out.

Two weeks later, a mysterious package is at your door from a secret admirer. You don’t even notice the “clone a Willy” printed on the bottom of the silicone toy. What you do notice is how big it is and how much you want it to ruin your holes. You set to work right away, opening yourself up. Getting so frustrated that it doesn’t fully fit. All the while your secret admirer watches from your closet.

And when he does finally lay claim to you? It’s all roses and apologies.

He knocks on your door after a particularly grueling mission, bouquet of your favorite flowers and a teddy bear in hand.

“Simon?” You say, shock coloring your voice. “My Simon?”

“‘Ello, lovie,” he replies. Sheepishly smiling, he holds out the gifts.

“This is real? You’re really here?” You ask grabbing the flowers and teddy.

“‘M here,” he says, scared you might reject him after all this time. Not that it matters, but it would still hurt.

You drop the gifts and he braces for the rejection. What he didn’t plan on, was you wrapping your arms around him and sobbing into his chest. “Si, I missed you so much.” He leads you into your flat, you don’t wonder how he knows where your room is. He sits you on your bed and holds you while you cry.

He’s a perfect gentleman for the first few months of dating and rekindling your friendship. It’s not until you tell him one night after a few drinks too many, “you know, Si? I had the biggest crush on you when we were kids.”

“Did you now, lovie?”

“Still do,” you confess, eyes strangely clear despite the alcohol.

He doesn’t think when he finally kisses you. Falling into bed with you is easier than breathing.

Your breath hitches as you feel that familiar stretch when he enters you. But you don’t think about it. You don’t think what it means when he hits every spot that your secret admirer’s gift reaches.

Now he has you. And now he’s not letting go.

♠️

I’m clawing the fucking floor my scent kink has not recovered jeowkdkfoekskdkrkkwlfk

[opinion-haver]

these replies perfectly summarize how we got to the issue of devaluing human connection in the first place and how this post is pretty much exacerbating the issue:

“yall are so dumb” - this sentiment writes off an entire population of people who are struggling. literally destroying human connections directly. and i think that in and of itself is dumb

“this is sooooo dystopian” -its pretty obvious how people running to ai therapists fullblown sucks and is dystopian but one must not forget that pointing at an issue isnt actually addressing it, especially when the comparison is rooted in nostalgia.

“these people are pitiful”- another strain of thinking people are so dumb. its patronizing. if you cant find shared humanity�� if you cant see within yourself a version that would succumb, you dont understand the problem.

honorable mention: the tools introduced above lend a very fun look into how ineffectual the system is and how these tools dont address at all the reasons why one would speak to an ai therapist in the first place.

worksheets: if i was going through a breakup or panic attack or some shit equivalent you would be absolutely kidding me to think that i would open up a worksheet. im suicidal not a masochist. zero humanity in that response.

chart-games: i find these useful, i even made a modified in-browser personal guide just for myself. but the issue is that most of the times conscious malaise isnt often cured by just eating or drinking just because you forgot. and thats if you remember to go to the website when youre doing badly in the first place. if im in hell im checked the fuck out.

finch: as a daily user of finch, i know directly how helpful this tool can be. it pairs the dopamine rush of games with executive function, like so many other gamified trackers out there. i like the data analysis personally, reflections are so useful to knowing yourself from day to day. but its very much trying to monetize your self care. to gate some of its tools behind a premium subscription because (paraphrase) “you deserve self care” is insidious as hell. and the ways it treats you is patronizing. i know youre dressing up a cartoon bird but i dont think helping the bird discover it likes baby shark is particularly salient to the aging tumblr userbase

ok so ive complained a whole lot. but in order to put money where my mouth is, whats the solution?

well obviously! to foster human connection of course. if these people dont know what real human connection is like its because nobody has BEEN real human connection for them. and vice versa— if you strawman these people into mindless idiots then clearly you dont understand their psyche.

in lieu of an ai therapist, reach out to a gd friend.

if you dont got friends, go make em. its ez. outside is easiest— show up to some kind of local thing or the other. it doesnt have to mesh with you completely but learning about Hetero Jessicas worklife balance is way more illustrative of human reality than chatgpt. but outside is not the only way. go ping someone random. get over the initial fear. fall in love with strangers. learn about their cats and trade cat pictures or some shit. its not easy but its worth it. hell, if you want to dm me i might even reply, if im not busy.

solidarity saved me. it can save you too.

guys. please

[thewhumpcaretaker]

♡ Whump Plot Structures ♡

This was inspired by a post about sickfic plot structure. I wanted to contribute some whump ideas of my own.

Pure Recovery Arc: We begin with whumpee at their lowest. Whumpee is getting better over the course of the story. Obstacles may arise, but they do not build on each other - each one is just overcome, and then on to the next. It often feels efficient and satisfying, like things falling into place. Every new sentence offers a relief. There is no pyramid structure and no climax - rather, this structure can be thought of as pure falling action. Relaxing to read. May read almost like a checked-off to-do list.

Rocky Recovery Arc: We begin with whumpee at their lowest. Whumpee is getting better over the course of the story, but there are frequent downturns leading to mini-climaxes along the way as whumpee overcomes each one. We're never certain if they're going to make a full recovery or not. Tension builds to a climax in which their recovery or downfall is solidified. Classic pyramid structure.

Trauma Arc and Recovery Arc: The story is divided into two acts - the first focuses on increasing trauma that builds up to a climax in which whumpee can't take it anymore and at that moment, either escapes or is rescued. The second portion of the story focuses on their increasing progress towards recovery, leading up to a second climax in which they fully overcome what they've been through (perhaps by arriving at a lesson, by getting revenge, etc.). The first and second halves can echo or mirror each other in poetic ways.

Trauma, Admission, and Recovery Arc: This is the same as above, except the story is divided into three acts. Again, the first focuses on increasing trauma building up to escape. But this time, whumpee can't talk about what happened to them or can't admit they need help after what they've been through. The second act is devoted to them spiraling until they're forced to admit their pain at the climax. Then, a third act focused on their attempts to recover can begin. Again, these acts can echo or mirror each other in poetic ways.

Buildup to Breakdown: This follows a Fichtean Curve. Every time it seems like things are getting better, a new obstacle is added to the pile. The stakes just keep getting higher - more injuries are added, they get sicker, more bad things happen. Eventually, a climax is reached in which whumpee's problems must all be faced at once, and they may succeed or fail, followed by the consequences of that.

No Conflict/Flat: Whumpee is at the same level of pain throughout the story. We're just seeing a detailed description of their pain and/or the comfort that they're experiencing. It stays roughly the same the whole time. Good for fluff fics...or for a scene of whumpee just wallowing, or sitting through torture. Often feels dreamlike and outside of time.

[mingoooossii]

ATEEZ comforting you after you have a rough week.

Ot8 x reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, lots of hugs, reader is overwhelmed in most of these, mentions of exams(scary ik), kinda corny tbh, also not proofread so there might be some mistakes.

A/n: i used most of my braincells 4 this 🫠 yea also this purely depended upon my mood so that's why some of them are just thoughts while the others are full blown conversations. will most likely rewrite this is in the future I think. Also I'm planning on opening taglists so if you want to be included just lmk!! (for ateez or any other group)

Words: 3.1k

Requested ♡ Ateez masterlist.

"When you feel like you're nowhere, Let it go 'cause I'll be there for you..."

⋆˚࿔ Hongjoong

• whenever things get a little too much, you'd usually suck it up

• it wasn't healthy, you know that yet you couldn't afford to fall back now so you did it anyway

• him, who's very sensitive to your every little changes in mood, of course, noticed it too

• you tend to sort of shut down whenever you get overwhelmed, causing you to get moody and quiet, often leading to minor arguments with him

• but he understands (being prone to overworking himself, he was never too fond of the after effects)

• but that doesn't mean he's not going to do anything about it

• ”you're taking a break.” “But I need to finish this-”

• he cut you off by closing your book, making sure to bookmark it before picking you up from the chair

• ”have you looked at yourself yet? you're about to collapse.”

• you fell silent at that, letting him carry you over to the bed, feeling your irritation dissolve at the stern tone, yet you could pick up on the hint of worry.

• ”but I need to finish it, or else I won't catch up on my work. I'm already behind in-”

• your worried ramblings was silenced by his lips pressing against yours for a brief moment

• ”i vaguely remember someone pulling me out of my studio, by my ear, when I was overworking myself.”

• he muttered, sitting beside you once he put you down on the bed, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear

• ”you should listen to your own advice, you know?”

• you could feel the tears pricking your eyes at his words, making you feel helpless and frustrated

• ”there's just…so much. i don't know if I'll ever finish it…what am I gonna do?”

• you mumbled, your lips trembling as you tried to bite back your sobs

• his expression softened at your words, pulling you into his embrace, stroking your hair

• ”i know. but exhausting yourself is only going to make it harder for you to catch up.”

• ”let's take a break, okay? you need to rest, let your mind calm down first.”

• you felt him pull away from you, his hand wiping your tears away

• ”how about we go for a walk outside? some fresh air would help, i think.”

• you thought for a bit before nodding. you definitely wouldn't be able to get anything done while you were in this state.

• he finally let a small smile break free, standing up, moving to get your shoes for you

“An ice cream could help too, i've heard. and there's a parlour that just opened up, down the street. i think it's fate.”

⋆˚࿔ Seonghwa

• "are you okay?"

• he asked softly, worry lacing his tone as he watched your sullen figure drop down onto the couch.

• "I'm okay."

• your curt response came out as if it was clockwork, removing your bag before burying your face into the comforter

• you obviously weren't. Well, it'd been like that for a while now

• he sighed before coming over to you on the couch. He knelt down and reached out to take off your shoes which you forgot to

• you tried to sit up, suddenly feeling guilty

• "i got it...-" "Let me."

• you paused before laying back down, feeling a bit nervous at his tone of voice. Was he mad?

• "I'm sorry... it's just lately everything's been going downhill..."

• you mumbled, tears pricking your eyes as you let your emotions of the past week finally weigh you down

• "i c-can't seem to do anything right and...i can't muster up energy for anything...i.."

• you sniffled, waiting for a response. He didn’t reply, instead placing your shoes neatly to the side before standing up and sitting down next to you on the couch.

• "Hwa..."

• a tear rolled down your face as he wrapped his arms around you, resting your head beneath his chin.

• it was incredible how the warmth of his embrace contrasted the gloominess you've been feeling all week.

• "I'm not mad. Why would I be?"

• he spoke quietly, his eyes shutting for a moment, his hand tracing patterns on your back

• "and you know... people don't always have to be okay..."

• "if that were the case then, i think we'd be superhumans..."

• you let out a laugh at his words, feeling your heart lighten slightly

• "i guess..."

• he smiled at the pleasant sound, leaning back slightly to look at you, his hand moving to wipe your tears away.

• "so don't put yourself down, i won't let you."

• he whispered, his expression gentle yet firm before pulling you close again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

• "I'm still gonna worry though. Because I'm a human, a human who happened to be really really really in love with you."

• you chuckled, feeling exasperated yet so so light hearted

"Well, then...this human loves you too, a lot."

⋆˚࿔ Yunho.

• exams were coming up.

• and with exams came all nighters.

• you knew it wasn't healthy at all but your brain refused to listen to you, conjuring up various 'what ifs' each one, bleak.

• yes, exam seasons usually had you stressed.

• he knew it too.

• don't get him wrong, he knew you'd do well (with you being one of the most hardworking people he knows, there was no doubt about that)

• but he knew you couldn't help it. Despite all the assurances, a small part of you always doubted if your efforts were enough

• and he was worried. Of course, he was but he couldn't push you to take breaks even when he knew you needed it

• because he thought it'd be better to be distant than to have you completely shut him out

• but he wasn't sure anymore.

• even more so when he came upon you staring down at your books with teary eyes. You couldn't take it anymore.

• "I'm just so tired"

• you sobbed, burying your face into his chest. He had carried you to the bed from your desk, despite your protests but now you were glad that he did.

• "i know, love."

• he whispered, his hand rubbing your back soothingly, his heart clenching at the sound of your sobs. How could he have let it get this bad?

• but one thing was sure, he wasn't about to let you go through this alone.

• "Take a break, hm?" "But i...-"

• "No buts."

• he replied firmly, his expression showing his worry

• "Baby, it's admirable, it really is...you work so hard and I'm so proud of you..."

• "but I'm worried."

• he mumbled, his voice soft and low, tightening his hold on you

• your words faltered as you sensed the genuine concern in his voice, a twinge of guilt washing over you.

• "You always seem so tired and i...i can't help but feel frustrated for not being able to do anything..."

• his tone was soft, holding you close as if he feared losing you.

• "i don't want anything to happen to you..."

• you heart clenched at the tone of fear in his voice. you felt him lean back, taking your face into his hands carefully

• ”no matter how important it is, pushing yourself beyond the point of breaking will never do you any good.”

•he whispered, his voice quiet as he stroked your face gently

•you stayed silent for a moment, his words going through your mind. you could feel the toll these last few days had on your body. crashing out wouldn't be far at this point.

•so you nodded, reluctantly agreeing, not wanting to worry him any longer and also because you knew you needed this.

•he smiled, seeing you agree (although reluctant) relief coursing through him finally.

“Good. Now, how about some tea? I'll…let you get back to it after a break and this time, I'll help you.”

⋆˚࿔ Yeosang.

• something was wrong.

• he wasn't used to seeing you so...pensive.

• that slight slumping of your shoulders, the way you zone out mid-convos and the quiet sighs that escapes you whenever you think no one's looking

• no, he definitely noticed. It was so unlike you and...he wasn't sure how to react.

• would you be mad if he were to bring this up?

• or would you pretend like there was

nothing wrong?

• he knows that you value your independence very much, often preferring to deal with things on your own

• he respects that and doesn't push in anyway, not wanting to make you uncomfortable

• but he'd also feel a bit guilty (thought it was never his fault) feeling like he was failing as a boyfriend for just watching from the sidelines while you struggled

• though initially, he'd be a bit hesitant and cautious when approaching the matter

• he wouldn't directly confront you but lets you know that he's there for you

• "I'm here, if you want to talk."

• he'll also try to distract you with other activities, whether if it's like a walk in the park or a simply game

• he'll try his best to keep the atmosphere quiet and positive so you'll be able to relax your mind even if it's just a little

• and when you finally open up to him, he listens.

• he doesn't really respond in between and just lets you rant while listening intently

• and you know he is from the way his hand gently squeezes yours in assurance whenever you come to a pause, letting you know that whatever you were feeling was valid

• he isn't that big on physical affection but won't hesitate to shower you in it if you were to ask

• he's just a green flag over all

"I'll be here if you need me. I'll always be here."

⋆˚࿔ San.

• "come here."

• you hesitantly glanced at him before immediately looking away once you met his eyes. How does he know you so well?

• "choi y/n, come. here."

• he repeated, his tone a bit more firm now, spreading his arms wide and looking at you expectantly

• "what's with the choi?"

• you sighed, half-laughing, but you walked towards him, your emotions bubbling up again.

• "you own my heart, so you might as well take my last name too."

• he said softly with a small smile as you finally stepped into his arms.

• "seriously..."

• you mumbled, your voice breaking towards the end as you pressed your face into his chest, tears starting to flow again

• "there we go..."

• he guided you to the couch before sitting beside you. He wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you into him and gently ran his fingers through your hair, whispering.

• "you did a good job, hm? I'm so proud of you."

• "it doesn't feel like that though..."

• you laughed. his words, though comforting, stung a bit, reminding you of your failures yet again

• he frowned, picking upon on the hint of self depreciation in your tone

• "how dare you say that about the love of my life? Do you have any idea how much they mean to me?"

• he spoke, leaning back slightly to look at you, his hand reaching up to pinch your cheeks

• "what're you on about?"

• you chuckled, avoiding his hand, not knowing whether to be amused or exasperated at his sudden burst out

• "I'm serious, my love's the best, the smartest, the kindest, the most hardworking, the prettiest...the list goes on..."

• he continued, his voice firm as he made you face him, wiping your tears away

• "but you know what i like the most about them?"

• he asked, his expression softening considerably

• "they never give up. no matter how hard it gets, no matter what anyone else says, they never give up, because they know that they can get through it..."

• he stroked your face, his eyes never leaving yours, the genuineness in them halting your breath for a moment

• "I know you can..."

• you felt your heart tighten at his words, feeling a wave of emotion wash over you. You hugged him again, tears forming again.

• "why do you always have to be so nice? I hate you..."

• you sobbed, though there was no real heat behind your words

• he chuckled, rubbing your back soothingly

"It's okay, in return, I have lots of love to give you..."

⋆˚࿔ Mingi.

• he knew that things have been rough for you lately

• while he was worried, he wasn't sure to how to bring it up without making you feel even worse

• so he had hoped you'd come to him first

• though nothing prepared him for the sight of you sobbing into your hands infront of him, when you did

• initially he was at a loss as to what to do (it's that T in him)

• but he could feel his heart breaking as he watched you desperately trying to wipe your tears away which seemed to be flowing endlessly at that moment

• instantly he pulled you into his embrace, his arms wrapping around you so tightly like he wanted to shield you from whatever that was hurting you

• "I'm sorry..."

• you weren't sure what he was apologising for and neither was he

• though he wasn't good with words in this situation, he was there for you

• and he hoped you'd know it too

"don't hold back your tears, just let it all out. I'm here."

⋆˚࿔ Wooyoung

• he’s been walking on eggshells the entire week and he wasn't sure how long he could he take it

• your obvious avoidance of him, the curt texts, (hell, he'd prefer it more if you argued with him than this) it was all getting ridiculous

• so, what was the next step? obviously, confronting you.

• though it wasn't going like how he expected it to go.

• ”I'm sorry, i thought it'd be better to avoid you than to let you get affected too”

• you mumbled, your voice a bit hoarse as you brought your blanket covering you, closer

• your face was red, a sheen of sweat covering your forehead as you supported yourself on the wall.

• these past few weeks had taken a toll on you, worse than you thought and before you knew it, you had a fever.

• ”Affect me-...are you serious?”

• he spoke before he could stop himself. really? that's what you've been worried about?

• “I've been worried sick! you think I'd care about some damn germs?”

• you fell silent, feeling a bit guilty now.

• he huffed as if he was in disbelief. he wanted to say more but paused, his eyes falling on your pale face

• he sighed before stepping in, his hands reaching for your face.

• “you're burning up…”

• he muttered, worry lacing his tone as he supported you, making sure to close the door before leading you to your living room, sitting you down on the couch

• you sniffled, rubbing your nose as you watched him bustle around your apartment

• it was weird, seeing him so serious like this, different from his usual playful self

• and it only made you more guilty for worrying him

• ”I'm sorry…”

• he paused, hearing your words, his movements slowing down as he closed the door to your shelf after retrieving the medicine

• “you know? these past few days, I was wondering whether I did something. I couldn't figure it out.”

• he spoke up, returning to the couch, kneeling infront of you, placing a hand on your lap

• “besides, what if you were in your death bed? of course i need to be here.”

• he added, a small smirk forming on his face

• “Hey!”

• you countered, your eyes wide, hitting his shoulder making him laugh out a small ‘sorry!’, lightening the mood slightly

• “no but seriously, you should've told me you were sick. i would've came running.”

• “you always take care of me when I'm sick. I want to do the same…”

• he muttered, his playfulness dissolving into softness, his hand squeezing yours gently

• you felt your heart melt at his words, warmth coursing through you, the pleasant kind this time.

• “Alright then, can you…make me your special chicken soup?”

• you asked, a hopeful glint in your eyes. you’ve been craving it actually.

• his smile returned even more brightly as he stood up, turning to make his way to your kitchen

“I'll make you the damn best chicken soup you're gonna ever have! You won't even need medicine cause it's gonna heal you up right away.”

⋆˚࿔ Jongho

• he knew you were having a rough week

• considering how moody you've seemed lately and you also didn't talk much

• and you were usually the 'affectionate' one in your relationship so the lack of it made him pause

• he was concerned, obviously, but didn't voice it directly or push you to open up

• he trusted that you'd come to him if there was something

• however, it seems like you finally reached your breaking point

• he regretted not talking to you sooner when he came home to you crying one day

• he immediately engulfs you into his embrace.

• you seemed a bit surprised to see him, not expecting him to come back so early

• and you felt bad to burden him with your emotions, surely he had a lot on his plate as well-

• "stupid, you should be worrying about yourself."

• he mumbled, his voice annoyed yet... concerned, pulling you closer when you tried to move away.

• he won't respond with words when you start to pour your worries out

• but you know he's listening with the gentle but assuring squeezes he gave your hand whenever you come to a pause

• well, it wasn't like he really had to talk when his embrace spoke volumes more than any words ever could.

“Don't feel bad for feeling bad, you don't always have to be okay, it's completely normal.”

[blueblossomrose]

Pleaseeeee I wanna see more on leona from the parent thing 🥺

Course! Here we go!

This post is part of the Twisted Parents Series.

Content: Post-canon, Leona being a tired dad, fem!afab!mc, fluffy.

Comments and reblogs are very welcome ♡

Being a father was never something that really crossed his mind. Dealing with Cheka, and his own childhood problems, made him skeptical about the idea.

MC kind of knew about it, but she was ready to tell him anyway.

Leona was surprised and at the same time not. He wouldn't verbalize about it, but after the wedding, his mind turned to children for the first time.

He wouldn't say it was a desire to have children, but more like a concept, imagination.

Well, now he didn't have to imagine anymore.

In the first few months, he's sounds neutral. He doesn't hate it, but he has confused mixed feelings about it.

He doesn't feel the huge appeal, and deep down that makes him angry and sad.

Because he knows he's probably not making you feel safe, because he knows he is behaving exactly like his own parents, ignorants of love.

He refuses to ask Farena anything at first, but it gets to a point where he's so upset that he ends up venting to him.

Farena was straightforward in pointing out that Leona doesn't need to force himself to be something he's not. That he doesn't need to doubt his own emotions because of other people's emotions.

And after this conversation, he goes to talk to MC. She, despite being slightly confused too, didn't crucify him for it. Leona continued to protect her with all his might throughout her pregnancy.

When MC's belly grows and he feels the first kick, his mental confusion worsened, conflicting feelings hitting each other, and even though he still seemed indifferent... there was something between and MC notice.

When he held the babies in his arms for the first time, however... his gaze, which had been different, changed completely.

He loved those children. There was no way he could hate them.

He was: "I'm not going to let anything bad happen to them."

And MC was: "I know 😊"

He is a tired father, as expected of him. Yet, he's doing well there.

One of the common scenes is him lying on your lap while you fold clothes or do some other activity, and your children on top of him, pulling his ears and tail while he sleeps.

When they are babies, Leona is ok to stay up with them while MC sleeps. He understands how tiring it is. Plus, he likes to feel important when he sees that the little ones fall asleep more easily when they are in his arms.

Many times you wake up with the babies on top of you because Leona put them in bed to sleep with you two.

As the babies grow, you notice more clearly how docile Leona is with his daughter.

As if anything Zuri asked for, Leona would give it to her.

He would play with her dolls wearing a pink dress if she asked.

Which honestly wouldn't be impossible for her to ask for. Zuri is very demanding.

Totally different from Zayne and Sekani. Zayne is calmer, really quiet. Sekani is a shy, very sweet boy, and slightly fearful...

Zayne enjoys playing board games even at a young age. Leona doesn't mind playing with him often. It's pretty funny when sometimes he ends up losing and looks at his 6 year old son like this: 🤨

He compliments Zayne anyway.

Sekani is undeniably more attached to his mother, since he is the type of child who likes to be pampered with affection and MC is always holding him in her arms.

But Leona also showers him with affection (in a more discreet way), so he enjoys being with his father as well. Leona makes him feel safe, so whenever he is scared, Sekani runs to his father.

Despite sometimes complaining, Leona spends a lot of time with them. A lot of time. MC soon realizes that it is him giving his children the affection and attention that he did not receive.

Also, Cheka joins his cousins to go and bother his uncle. He loves having someone to play with now!

Leona having his three children and nephew glued to him 24 hours a day. Okay, maybe I exaggerated. 8 hours a day.

MC often joins in on the fun. When playing tag, Leona is usually quick to catch her because he knows where she usually hides. He will jump on you without mercy and probably scare you, but he will quickly make you laugh with involuntary tickles.

Leona finds the kids easily. And the kids can find you easily when it's their turn. Hide and seek with beastmen is no fun.

At the end of the day, Leona watches you sleeping in his arms along with the children... and he thinks that love and being loved like that isn't bad at all.

[anoyint]

Oh dw, i didnt mean to force anyone to do anything. You can believe in someones ability to change while also telling them that youre still wary of them and that theyre not welcome in your spaces.

As for what I'm doing, my focus spending time arguing about this is not to widely prevent harm, but to better myself by understanding the other side. I am afraid of falling into a headspace where I am biased and closed off to new ideas, and like, here are some people with a perspective that I don't have, that are more than willing to respond to requests to understand them (even if those responses are often passive aggressive and uninformative), thats awesome! Also, in participating, I'm motivated to dig deeper into my ideas by the time spent working on a response, and I get immediate and impersonal criticism back (again, of varying quality). It's much harder to figure these things out in a vacuum. Last, I know that I want my limited efforts to be dedicated to causes like environmentalism and sustainability more than anything, so talking about it like this is a nice and easy way to give me a taste of the other worlds of ethics that I'm missing out on without taking away too much time and energy from my main focus.

i believe that seeing yourself as superior to another human being is counterproductive and incentivizes stagnancy. I cant remember the name right now, but I read this wonderful article that attempted to explain part of the psychology of anti semites and racists and the likes, and part of it was that they liked seeing themselves as better than the ones they are prejudiced towards, because they don't believe theyre special, but at the same time want to be worth something. So they use hate to put other people down, and find value in being nobodies, rather than work hard to lift themselves up and prove their worth. Believing that people are set in their value just because of who they are also sets that precedent for you. But believing that we are all just doing the best with what we've got, and that no one is more intrinsically valuable than anyone else, sets the scene for you to recognize your limitations and alter yourself to accommodate for your circumstances, rather than futilely attempting to alter your circumstances to accommodate for yourself. Its generally a healthier way to about things, to my understanding. Its something I need to work on myself, because I recognize that I often feel entitled to certain things because I believe myself to be deserving despite lack of effort, and that's reflected in me putting other people down in my head. But thats part of why im spending time on this.

Could you personally forgive someone who had a neo-Nazi “phase” as an adult? Assuming they’re trying to make amends for their past behavior/beliefs

[l0v3r666]

Can i please request a kalim x reader where they're besties but he slowly falls in love with reader throughout the main storyline without knowing? Up to you to decide if it's happily ever after or he ends up confessing too late tho

Bestfriend!Kalim that’s not your best friend yet, but he’s gonna be soon! He knew it the second you put out his flaming robes on your first day- god, you’re so cool! Bestfriend!Kalim always looks for you in the halls- sure he’s a little,, intense in whichever class you share, but he’s so happy you’re finally coming up to him at lunch! Oh, it’s to interview Jamil? Haha, that’s fine :’)

Bestfriend!Kalim that actually got to know you at a party, you’re not picky with where you get your “rations” and it’s not like you know the guys you steal from (until you do)

Bestfriend!Kalim that finds you eating his prepped snacks out of some ratty tupperware and doesn’t yell at you like anyone else would’ve. But instead leads you to the “cans + jerkey cabinet” (which was very clearly labeled, but you were also the opposite of sober)

Bestfriend!Kalim that laughs instead of getting mad when you don’t remember his name, and in return you let him go on a tipsy spiel about how he “jush wanta’ be your bestie, prefect!! Cay-cay’s been sayin I should say that, and like talk better, but he’s like, cray-cray, right?”

Bestfriend!Kalim that invites you over all the time- he loves picking your brain for a fresh perspective and you never run out of things to talk about (you feel bad about it, but Jamil always preps carepackages for when you leave. He thinks you’re a good influence.)

Bestfriend!Kalim that gives you boy advice.. how can he not when there’s so many fish in the sea? Maybe not an actual mer-guy, though.. why not practice on him? He’s never been kissed before, but you guys’ll figure it out!

Bestfriend!Kalim that’s really bad at distinguishing friendship vs crushing,, he’s known so many people that he’s not in the habit of labeling interactions, (even kissing your best friend as “romantic”) until he does,,

Bestfriend!Kalim that only thinks to bring it up the next time you come over to “practice” (which now that he thinks about it is pretty often) and he’s this close to your face when he casually throws out “I really like you. Do you feel the same?” You’re taken aback not with how just bold it was, but- “haven’t we been dating for months??” “Yeah, I guess!” (And then they ran off into the sunset (until they break up at like 25 bc of “artistic differences)) <33

[riboism]

unconditional

》 pairing: husband! k.ys x wife! reader x c.sn

》 plot: as you and yeosang celebrate your 10th wedding anniversary, everyone around you sees the perfect marriage. but behind closed doors, the cracks have been growing for years—until a new experiment in the bedroom changes everything.

》 content: smut, cuckolding, marriage, blowjob, vibrator, reverse cowgirl, multiple orgasms, basically you and yeosang were struggling with a boring sex life and now yeosang can’t get off without watching you get fucked by san first 😗

》 wc: 3.5k

🎧 unconditional- jaehyun

Yeosang's company was known for hosting the most sophisticated Christmas parties, and this year was no exception. The venue—a charming little club perched on the bay—had stunning views of the waterfront. Through its large windows, the boats docked outside swayed gently, their twinkling Christmas lights casting soft reflections on the dark water. In contrast with the serenity outside, the atmosphere inside buzzed with great energy. Sounds of the live jazz band playing holiday hits hung in the air. Couples took to the dance floor, swaying along to the rhythm. Mid-level employees stood in clusters, clutching untouched glasses of champagne, their unease showing through their fake smiles as their senior managers approached with cheerful insistence to “join the fun,” though they would smile politely, nodding along while doing their best to sidestep the pressure to drink.

Aside from the approaching holidays, this year brought plenty of reasons to celebrate. It marked your husband’s 10th anniversary at the firm—a milestone capped with yet another promotion—and also a decade of marriage for the two of you.

“What a lovely couple,” his coworkers would often remark, adding with a chuckle, “our very own Barbie and Ken.” And then there was your least favorite comment of all, inevitably delivered with a mix of curiosity and tease: “Ten years? What’s the secret?”

If only they knew. 

“Ready to go, my love?” A deep, velvety voice hummed behind you. Yeosang’s hand slipped around your waist, his grasp firm as he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “We don’t want to keep him waiting.”

To anyone watching, your marriage seemed picture-perfect. But the truth was, it had been unraveling for years. The frequent business trips, the endless arguments, and the slow creep of boredom had eroded the bond you once shared. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when things began to fall apart, but you both felt it: the dwindling attraction, the hollow excuses of “I’m tired” or “I have an early meeting in the morning” exchanged like lifeless darts. The distance had grown so vast that you began to sleep in separate beds, the physical space only echoing the emotional chasm between you.

Despite it all, you still clung to the hope that things could be salvaged. It had taken months of pleading to convince Yeosang to try marriage counseling. But even after he finally agreed, progress felt elusive. Each session, with its endless prompts of “how does that make you feel?” only seemed to peel back old wounds and stir up more tension, leaving both of you raw and resentful. It felt a lot like trying to douse a fire with gasoline.

Then, a couple of months ago, your counselor suggested something unexpected.

“Have you two thought about spicing things up in the bedroom?”

At first, you scoffed at the idea. How could sex—a physical act—fix the emotional disconnect that had formed between you? How could it erase the resentment, the boredom, the loneliness, or the simmering anger? It felt shallow, almost laughable. But as the weeks dragged on, you both found yourselves at a breaking point, too exhausted to deny the truth: the spark you’d once had was gone. And maybe, just maybe, it was worth trying anything to get it back.

Anything. 

Little did you know, that seemingly poor advice was exactly the push you two needed. What started as a reluctant experiment turned into a rediscovery of the intimacy and connection you thought were lost forever. Bit by bit, the walls you had built began to crumble, and with them, the spark you once shared slowly reignited, flickering back to life.

Your hand reached around the curve of his back, rising on your tippy toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “Let’s go.” 

—

Yeosang reclined in his reading chair, legs parted with an easy confidence, his posture relaxed yet commanding. His gaze locked onto you, steady and intent, filling the space with an unspoken tension. The room was filled with your soft moans and squelches from your sopping cunt as San rubbed a purple vibrator over your clit gently, a Cheshire cat-like smile enveloping his features each time you squealed over him. 

You laid across his bare chest, his strong, chiseled arms holding your legs open as he worked the toy over your sensitive spots. You liked San. Yeosang could tell. Though you've laid on this very bed with other men before, Yeosang noticed how well you responded to him compared to the others. He was undeniably attractive, yes, but the way you were with him—the excitement in your eyes, the way you rode him with such passion, letting out the prettiest, most lewd whines he’d ever heard—it was a done deal. Yeosang hired him as a gift for you, but it was more for him. San was his little plaything, a vessel for him to puppeteer. And you…well, you were just the main attraction. 

Yeosang reached for his scotch glass on the side table, taking a long, slow sip, his eyes never leaving you for a moment. “Higher,” he demanded. 

Without missing a beat, San pressed the little button on your vibrator, the increase in intensity making you gasp. You held in your screams, biting your lip until it was red. Yeosang frowned. He hated it when you did that. 

“Higher.” 

San pressed the button again. Your hands immediately grasped onto your sheets, the unforgiving buzzing between your legs becoming too much to handle. “Oh, fuck!” You choked, before pressing a hand over your mouth. Your eyes locked onto your core, unable to do anything but watch yourself be at the mercy of your husband and his puppet. 

Yeosang tsked, slouching back into his chair as if he were watching his favorite team losing on TV. “Get her hand off her mouth.” 

San did as instructed, pulling your hand away and holding it down so you wouldn’t be tempted to do it again. His chin rested against your shoulder, his lips parted in fascination as he watched your slick, wet juices coat the small toy. “C’mon honey,” he said in a low voice, “you know he likes to hear you.” 

The beginning of the night was always difficult, getting used to having two sets of eyes on you as you undressed, and it took time for you to get comfortable enough to make any noises. You had been doing this with San for a few months, but each time felt like the first. 

“Higher.” 

Before you could protest, San increased the speed, the sharp buzzing almost knocking you out. “That’s as high as it goes,” San grinned, gripping you tighter as you convulsed in his arms. 

“P-please, it’s too much!” You wailed, your abs tightening as you struggled to keep up. 

And then, there it was. Your sweet melody made Yeosang’s ears perk up, and he leaned over as if he were trying to hear you more clearly. “That’s it,” he said, almost approvingly, “now make her cum.” 

San pressed the toy harder onto your clit. You cursed and screamed, tears welling in your eyes as you grabbed onto San’s hand, torn between wanting to pull it off of you and wanting to hold on enough to meet your release. You knew it would make Yeosang happy if you held on, if you did whatever he wanted and did so obediently, but God, why did he have to make it so difficult for you? 

A rush of heat swept over you, leaving sweat to prickle on your skin. Gripping onto him, you chased that release, pushing forward until your legs finally gave way, surrendering to the overwhelming wave of relief you had been craving all night. Exhausted, you collapsed back against San’s chest, melting into his embrace, your breath coming in ragged gasps as your chest rose and fell, the relentless buzzing finally leaving your achy core. 

San caressed your thighs, his soft, pouty lips peppering light kisses on your neck, making his way to your jaw, until finally connecting with your lips. You kissed him lazily, still dizzy and tired from your orgasm to do anything more. 

As your lips moved with him, your eyes stayed open, locking with your husband’s gaze from across the room, where he remained seated in the far corner. Yeosang bit the skin around his thumb, watching you intently with a gleam in his eye. Kissing wasn’t part of the deal, not initially, though he’d never stopped you when you did. You did it deliberately, knowing it would get under his skin, knowing how much he enjoyed being riled up.

San’s lips pulled away from yours, his gaze shifting to Yeosang. “What now, boss?”

Yeosang paused for a moment, mulling over his options. He tapped his foot lightly against the carpet, contemplating what he wanted to see next. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, crossing one foot over his knee, signaling he had made his decision. “It’s a special night,” he said coolly, his voice laced with authority. “Let her decide.”

It was an unexpected request, one that placed all the authority in your hands. It was unlike him to relinquish control like this, and the sudden shift left both of you stunned. Their gazes—intense and unwavering—fell onto you, waiting for you to speak. The spotlight felt unbearably hot, and a wave of shyness washed over you, making it difficult to find the words to make a demand. But as your eyes met your husband’s, and seeing the soft, approving nod he gave you, something stirred inside. You couldn’t help but embrace the power now in your grasp.

—

Yeosang tried to hide his smirk, his fingers brushing lightly over his lips as he watched you in amusement. You were fixed over San’s lap as he sat up on the edge of the bed, just a few feet away from Yeosang. His hands were secured onto your waist as you pumped yourself over him, using all the strength you had left in your knees to hold yourself up. Of course, you’d choose this position, Yeosang thought. You didn’t choose reverse cowgirl just because you liked it—in fact, it was probably the most exhausting position for you—but more so because you knew it was the only position where Yeosang would be forced to see your pussy being parted over San’s huge cock. 

“Fuck, that’s so good!” You whined, letting out a few borderline pornographic moans out as you bounced on him. You leaned back into his chest, giving him access to your soft, needy breasts. San grabbed your breasts, taking a sensitive nipple into his mouth, and kneading the other with his free hand. You inhaled sharply as he nipped at your skin, head growing dizzy as he swirled his tongue while you fucked yourself dumb. 

“Such a tight fucking cunt,” San growled into your skin, “gonna milk me dry, huh baby?” 

You moaned in response, purposely widening your legs apart to make sure your husband got a good view. “Yes, want all your cum Sannie,” you breathed in that airy, sweet voice of yours that made Yeosang want to bite his knuckles off.

You knew exactly what you were doing, and Yeosang couldn’t help but applaud you for it. Seeing you like this—so perverse, so shameless—ignited a fire inside of him. It was this very fire, this surge of emotion, that had reignited the spark in your marriage. No, he didn’t invite men over to fuck you because he enjoyed getting cuckolded—in fact, he despised it. Took absolutely no pleasure in it. It all enraged him, watching you take another man’s dick so well, to cry over it, gag over it, and then beg for their cum in your pretty little mouth. No, if he could, he would pull San off of you right now and bash his head against the wall until he bled to death. But he held his composure and controlled the storm brewing inside him. Why? Because he thrived on that rage. It consumed him, a searing jealousy that only made him want you more. And you loved to make him mad. 

Your movements were unsteady, hips slowing down, your breathing getting heavier, whines growing needier. Yeosang could tell you were getting close. He gripped his hand on his growing erection, grasping it tightly as he watched you unfold. Your eyes locked with his again, crying out as you came all over San’s cock. That same fire that burned inside Yeosang began to ignite within you as well. You shot your husband a teasing look, torn between the desire to provoke him further and the irresistible urge to run to him, to let him consume you completely, to punish you for enjoying yourself too much. 

You hopped off his cock and lowered yourself between San’s legs, pulling off his condom and discarding it to the side before taking him into your mouth. San hissed, his lower half turning to mush as you bobbed on his length, swirling your tongue perfectly over his hardened tip. “Mmm…” you moaned, playing it up, as you massaged his swollen balls, each one tender with cum just waiting to spurt out. Although you couldn’t see him, you knew the tips of Yeosang’s ears were flaming red. 

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” San whimpered, before finally releasing himself into you. He moaned as his cock twitched in your mouth, eyes growing heavy as you swallowed every drop of him and licked his length clean. You gazed up at him, pleased to see his flushed cheeks and chest. You grabbed him at the base, slapping his tip on your lips, kissing in between while he shuddered from the touch. 

Suddenly, a hand gripped your hair, pulling you away from his length. You looked up at your husband, noticing the faint flush of red on his ears, a clear sign that the patience he had maintained all evening had finally worn thin. His gaze remained fixed on you, sharp and terrifying, as he addressed San without breaking eye contact.  

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” he said, his tone firm and controlled. “You may go now.” 

San muttered a curse under his breath as he got dressed, clearly annoyed by the abrupt dismissal. Normally, you’d let him shower before leaving, but Yeosang was impatient. He couldn’t wait any longer—he needed his moment alone with you.  

Now, with just the two of you left in the room, a tension settled in the air. Your gut tightened in anticipation, uncertain but exhilarated by what might happen next.

“Was I good?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you remained kneeling on the floor. Yeosang stood above you, his presence towering and commanding. He leaned down slightly, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek, his touch both firm and gentle. 

“So good for me, doll,” he murmured, his voice soft and teasing as his thumb brushed over your cheek. You nuzzled into his palm, his warmth spreading through you like a comforting haze.  

But just as quickly as the tender moment settled, it shifted. His grip tightened, fingers tangling in your hair before he pulled you up with a firm, swift motion, guiding you onto the bed. The sudden movement sent a shiver down your spine, the change in pace leaving you breathless. Tears pricked in your eyes from the pain.  

His face was just millimeters away from you now, still holding onto your hair. “But you really pushed it, you know,” he said, his voice cool, but blowing with steam. “You really enjoyed yourself tonight, didn’t you darling?”

“You said I could-“

His free hand made it between your legs, fingers tracing over your achy, abused cunt. “Didn’t say you could suck him off though, did I? Or kiss him? You did that all on your own. You love having another man’s cock in your mouth, don’t you baby?”

You jutted your hips forward, still sensitive from your past two orgasms, but not failing to crave his touch. You tried to bite back a moan but failed. “Sangie…” 

He touched you so carefully, so delicately, the feather-like brushes only enticing you more. Your hand reached out for him, rubbing on his clothed bulge, begging him for more with your half-lidded eyes. “...please.” 

Yeosang chuckled softly, the sheer desperation in your voice alone making his knees weak. “Please what, baby?” he asked, his voice calm, too calm, a stark contrast to the fire simmering in his eyes. The measured tone sent another shiver down your spine, unsettling in its quiet intensity, as if he was daring you to bare everything to him. He knew what you wanted, your wetness over his fingers told him so, but he just wanted to hear you say it. 

“I want you. Only you.”

That was all he needed to hear. Those three simple words sent a rush through him, igniting something primal and deeply satisfying. Watching you indulge in someone else’s touch, only to come crawling back to him and beg for his cock fueled an intoxicating mix of emotions—he felt loved, wanted, important, and powerful. As twisted as it seemed, it served as a visceral reminder that no matter what, you could only truly be his, just as he would only ever be yours. And the truth was, you didn’t mind giving him that reminder, again and again, if it meant rekindling the fire that burned solely between the two of you.

And now, here you were, exactly where you longed to be all night tonight, with your head pressed against the mattress by Yeosang’s firm hand, and your cunt filled with his thick, angry cock, each hard stroke making you scream into the sheets. 

“Did it feel good, hmm? Fucking someone who isn’t me?” He said through gritted teeth, his grasp on your hair only getting tighter. 

You stayed quiet—well, as quiet as you could—too flustered to answer him fully. 

“Oh, don’t get shy now. You like it when I watch, don’t you baby? Like creaming on Sannie’s cock while your sweet husband's watching?” 

Tears welled up in your eyes, feeling the sudden harshness in his thrusts at the sheer mention of San. You knew he loved humiliating you, but you still felt an urgent need to make him understand. “Please!” You cried out, your voice trembling, “He doesn’t matter. I just want you. Want your cock, no one else—Fuck, I love your fucking cock!” 

Suddenly, the warmth of his cock left you, and he shifted himself onto his back, pulling your body onto him. He moved you so quickly, the sudden change making you dizzy and confused. “Yeah?” He panted, guiding his cock back into your wet folds. “Then show me. Show me how much you love my cock.” 

You lowered yourself onto him, your soaked cunt swallowing him up with ease. He could feel you shaking, your pussy so overstimulated, but still so determined to feel his cock paint your walls. “That’s it, baby,” he purred, his hands grasping onto your waist, “Show me…show me how much you love it.” 

Your hips rolled over him, rocking them back and forth jaggedly, so desperate to chase your climax and make a mess over him. You were so incoherent now, babbling utter nonsense through your dried-out, sore throat, the fullness of his cock being too much to bear. 

Yeosang thumbed your clit, eyes locked on your sticky, wet folds, completely mesmerized at how stretched out your tiny little cunt got. “Show me…” he whispered, pressing his thumb harder into you, helping you reach your high quicker. Your eyes fluttered shut, then rolled back, the overwhelming sensation of pure bliss washing over you and consuming every inch of your being. Yeosang was satisfied, watching you remove yourself from him, his cock glistening with your juices as it sat against your throbbing pussy. 

For a moment, the room was silent, his teasing demeanor giving way to something far more intense. Then, with a sudden, possessive motion, Yeosang pulled you down by your neck, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that left no room for doubt. You melted into him, pouring every ounce of longing and love into the moment, hoping it would be enough to show him the truth.

“I only want you,” you breathed against his lips, the words trembling with raw honesty as you refused to pull away. Yet, deep inside, that familiar shame and heartbreak began to creep in, just like it always did at the end of these experiments.

You weren’t entirely sure if you enjoyed any of it—if this was something you truly wanted. But that didn’t matter as much as seeing him happy, as much as keeping that flicker of connection alive between you both, no matter the cost. Though he had only been teasing earlier, you wanted to ensure he never forgot—no matter who entered this bedroom, you were his, and he was yours. Yeosang's fingertips trailed gently down your back, each touch making you feel warm and safe, wrapping you in a quiet reassurance. “I know, honey,” he murmured against your lips, his voice soft yet possessive. “No one can love you as much as I do right now.”

a/n: reblogs and feedback are appreciated

[velvetvexations]

Saw your tags on that binder post and I thought I’d share that my first introduction to chest binding was actually through the lolita community! A lot of big name japanese brands are not exactly size inclusive and did NOT cater to anyone with more than an A cup, so I did see quite a lot of safe binding advice and methods on blogs and forums back in the day before more inclusive brands became available, ranging from sports bra to actual proper binders. I’m probably not the only example of the “binding to fit into an angelic pretty dress” to “binding to fit into an angelic pretty dress and gender reasons)” pipeline, but plenty of other lolitas I know are still cis women who just do it on occasion or for specific pieces that aren’t very forgiving on the tits! I doubt that a single niche fashion subculture is the reason for those binders being marketed towards cis women so heavily, but I thought this was a funny anecdote :)

Fascinating!

patricia taxxon shit really fucking hurts. i dont want to be effected by a random internet microcelebrity not liking transdudes, that happens often enough. but god her music and essays got me through really rough shit and it really hurts to see someone i looked up to for well written essays and work fall back on the bullshit arguments used to deny my lived experiences. it really really fucking hurts, especially with how it feels barely anyone will talk about or call it out. i thought trfs were something id have to look hard for, and seeing their rhetoric creep into the fucking music i listen to and tumblrs i follow really truly scares me

I'm sorry, anon. I love you a lot. <3

“You shouldn’t break up the trans community into groups!” The TRFs literally came up with a way to break up the community via TMA/TME. They are actively distancing themselves from the community by baking fearmongering into their ideology. God forbid we create a term about sticking together against a group within the community that’s inherently dividing?

lmao literally

Just had my first time getting sexually harassed by a woman as a percieved cis man and commiserating afterwards with a cis man about how we're all just supposed to be cool with being treated like that. It's a weird experience and somehow going through the same things mostly from women as a girl then nonbinary then a trans guy it feels the same but the flavors change. I know the discourse is literally nothing but it makes me feel like my feelings shouldn't matter because of the male privilege. And I even did my civic duty and took the brunt of it away from the other trans man who was getting it worse because of his percieved feminine traits which people also like to pretend doesn't happen. All of it is just stupid.

It's fine, she was a woman and you're a man so that was praxis sexual harassment.

honestly i think a better predictor of how much autonomy a child is able to have over their presentation is probably whether the child is disabled moreso than agab, like i not only wasn't allowed to have my hair too short, i also wasn't allowed to have it too long for a chunk of my childhood because it took me awhile to understand how to brush my hair (because i was afraid to because i am hypersensitive to touch and my mother would always brush my hair in a way that hurt so much i would cry), and my mother would bitch and moan about how difficult i was about it (because she was hurting me and did not listen when i told her this) and so i wasn't allowed to have longer hair until i could brush it myself. ultimately the biggest factor is always the attitude of the parents though

God, so much of my shit with my mother was over my hair, it still really gets to me.

TRF is like the whole voting for face eating panthers. But it’s like TERFs are the panthers and TRFs are a cheetah, like “I’m a kind of cat too so they won’t eat my face as long as I eat faces too right?” WRONG they see you as prey, they won’t spare you because they see a fellow cat, they’ll eat your face cuz you’re not a panther!

cis women will like me if I explain to them how I'm -taxonomically- a woman

it’s insane to me that ‘it’s bad to hate someone for an uncontrollable part of their identity no matter who they are’ is a controversial take now

we've regressed

when people say ‘um ackshually i can say i want all men to die and if you tell me “men see these things and go far right because they think it’s true” then you are blaming women for men’s bad behaviour’ i just immediately assume that this person is stupid as fuck like. if a teenage boy goes online to see what feminism is about and is bombarded with ‘kill all men’ ‘all men are rapists’ etc then OBVIOUSLY he’s not gonna want to be feminist. it is really not that fucking hard to understand. people don’t wanna be in spaces that are cruel to them for an aspect of their identity that they cannot control it’s not ‘blaming women for misogynistic men’ to say that. it’s just fucking true. people are so stupid it actually pains me

unfortunately radfem juice is addictive

[disabirbity]

I've been on abilify and it singlehandedly was the medication that made me lose faith in trying more meds. I'd tried many before with many side effects and not much use, but that one? Fuck no. If that thing can fuck me up that bad, I'm not risking it anymore.

Things it did:

Caused what I call "sleep paralysis dreams". Not full sleep paralysis as in "I've opened my eyes and am hallucinating, and I cannot move". A recurring dream in which we could be anywhere, unable to move, and crushed with this all encompassing fear that we couldn't even fix while lucid (which we often were). The dream was basically a repeating line. I can't move what the fuck > This is that dream again > I know it's a dream why is it so scared > I need to wake up so bad > Finally wake up in actual physical pain. We had it almost every night, and the psychologist insisted that it wasn't the medication because it's not a listed side effect. But we stop the med and now we just... Don't dream at all--which is better! We actually don't dread sleeping anymore!

Caused heart palpitations! Multiple times a day, bad enough we got put on medication for them. They're gone since stopping abilify. We told the psych the meds were giving us symptoms and he said that it's definitely not the abilify. Uh huh.

Made me stop being depressed (yay!) but also unable to feel happy (not yay!). Literally couldn't feel anything on that med and we didn't even notice it, is the scary part.

Made me sleep for upwards of 14 hours a day. Chronic exhaustion, feeling so fucking tired and falling asleep everywhere. Horrible paired with those dreams that made us want to stay awake for a week.

Made me so hungry. That paired with undiagnosed hypothyroidism? Horrible combination--unless of course the abilify caused that too.

Didn't even make me stop hallucinating! Or stop the paranoia! It didn't do what it was even meant to in the first place!

So yeah... We hate the shit. Sorry to dump on your post but the solidarity in the notes was great and we wanted to share our piece. No shame if it helps you, it just definitely destroyed our life for a while. We still have heart palpitations on occasion, and we can't take naps because that makes it much more likely we get another of those dreams due to us drifting in and out of sleep a lot when we try to nap.

Is there... Something special about abilify that makes it suck to so many people? There's no other medication we've seen so consistently hated. We've been on other antipsychotics and they've been nowhere near as bad, and we don't see hate for others as much as this one either. What exactly makes it so horrible so often? Genuinely wondering why, if there's even a reason besides "psych system sucks and wants you sedated so you're not 'crazy' lol".

anti drug awareness campaign but it's "just say no to abilify" and directed at psychiatric patients

[urfavisananimegirl]

walter white from breaking bad

Walter Hartwell White (Breaking Bad) is an Anime Girl!

[deonsx]

Can u do one abt Sae Itoshi being a girl dad?🥹

AYAYYYA when I saw that I had to make this request immediately + Nagi and Rin are with you!

Bllk Boys If they become a girl father

Sae Itoshi

Sae wakes up early in the morning to help his daughter get ready for kindergarten. Normally calm and reserved, Sae doesn’t complain when his daughter insists on putting a “princess crown” on his head while he’s combing her hair. Seeing himself in the mirror wearing a pink crown, he smirks slightly and says:

“Doesn’t this make me too cool?” His daughter, with a serious expression responds “No Papa, it’s just perfect!”

On the way to school, his daughter bombards him with questions like, “What’s your favorite color, Papa?” Sae, instead of his usual short answers, takes a moment to think and says, “Maybe blue… but your favorite colors might be better”

Sweet Details:

Sae’s daughter proudly tells her friends, “My dad is the best football player in the world!” Even though Sae tries to stay composed, her admiration secretly makes him incredibly happy

While teaching his daughter how to play football, she somehow manages to dribble past him and score a goal. Sae quietly mumbles “Must be the genes” but deep down, he feels proud beyond words

His daughter loves drawing pictures for him. One day, Sae takes one of her drawings and puts it in his sports bag. Before an important match, he looks at it for motivation.

At night, Sae softly hums a traditional Japanese lullaby to his daughter as she falls asleep. It’s one of the few moments where his stoic exterior melts into pure warmth and love

Nagi Seishiro

Nagi plans to spend his weekend morning sleeping in, but he wakes up to his daughter poking his cheek with her tiny hands

“Daaaad! Wake up! We need to have breakfast and play!” she says with boundless energy. Nagi groans and mutters “Ugh… five more minutes…”

But when his daughter furrows her brows and sternly replies, “Five minutes? No way, now!” he can’t help but smile. “Alright, alright you win” he says, picking her up and carrying her on his shoulder as they head to the kitchen

Despite Nagi’s lazy tendencies, his daughter’s energy and demands always win him over. Sometimes, he even finds himself unexpectedly having fun while playing with her

Sweet Details:

Nagi’s daughter might be hyperactive, curious, and constantly looking for things to do. Although it clashes with his laid-back personality, Nagi learns to adapt and becomes more active because of her

Nagi’s idea of a “daddy-daughter day” often includes binge-watching cartoons, ordering pizza, and him trying (and failing) to braid her hair. While he’s not the best at hairstyling, he’ll do anything to make her laugh

Nagi easily gets drawn into her imaginative world. Whether it’s pretending to be a king, a monster, or a hero saving her, he goes along with it. Afterward, though, he’ll collapse on the couch and say “That was exhausting…”

His daughter loves to challenge her dad, saying things like “Let’s race! If I win, you have to buy me ice cream!” Nagi reluctantly agrees and usually lets her win. But sometimes, his competitive side sneaks in, and he plays seriously

Despite his lazy nature, Nagi is fiercely protective of his daughter. Just the thought of her getting hurt makes him unexpectedly serious and determined to keep her safe

Rin Itoshi

One evening, Rin comes home from training, exhausted. As he opens the door, he hears a small voice shout

“Daddyyyy!”

His daughter runs up to him with bright eyes and says, “Let’s play soccer Daddy!” Rin looks at her, a bit startled, and replies

“At this hour? You have school tomorrow, young lady.” But when she pouts, he sighs and gives in, saying “Fine, but only for five minutes”

Before he knows it, they’re out in the yard playing. She manages to dribble the ball and score between his legs. As she jumps and cheers, Rin smirks slightly and says,

“I guess we shouldn’t tell your mom we played this late”

Sweet Details:

Rin tries to be the “perfect dad” and takes everything very seriously. He wants to provide the best environment for his daughter. However, whenever she hugs him and says “You’re the best dad ever!” his stern exterior softens

Rin teaches his daughter how to play soccer but never pressures her. Instead, he encourages her to enjoy the game at her own pace. One day, when she pulls off a tricky move, he mutters to himself

“Must be the genes”

Rin is extremely protective of his daughter. If someone bothers her at school or hurts her feelings, Rin steps in immediately—though he tries to handle things calmly and rationally

At night, Rin often tells his daughter bedtime stories about famous soccer players. At the end of every story, she snuggles up to him and says “But you’re the best one Daddy” For Rin, it’s the highlight of his day

Princess not: Rin affectionately calls her “My Little Lion” because she’s just as determined and stubborn as he is

Enjoy!

[theartofwoompwoomp]

Oh scrap pt.2

Soundwave x human reader

Summary: the decepticons start talking about who’s the hottest one, and agree that an alien could break the tie (aka reader) and without a hesitation they say soundwave, not knowing this guy can hear everything lol

Pt.1   Pt.2

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You had forgotten about the whole ordeal. As we mentioned, chaotic things happened all the time.

So you really didn’t think much of it. Not until you started noticing something different.

Now, you are aware of your crush on Soundwave, and usually that’s not a bother since you rarely think of it. Just keeping those emotions on the down low.

However you have realized a difference in your schedule. You’ve been assigned with your crush and his cassettes far more often than normal. 

Not that you mind at all, more opportunities to appreciate your crush. 

And you wouldn’t have been worried, if it weren’t for the change of actions in the bot.

He’s always so calm and steady at his work. But recently you’ve noticed that whenever you’re around he always tenses and soon leaves the room. 

It’s a little sad, I mean, you’re not exactly sure what you did to upset him. And anytime you get near he twitches a bit before giving you his back and leaving. 

Having no human bestie around you went to next thing you had that resembled that on the nemesis.

You entered Knockout quarters, making sure to catch his attention.

“hey, um, I know you’re busy, but can we talk a bit?”

He saw the stress on your face and didn’t deny you your request. After all everyone needs to vent from time to time.

“Well doll maybe he’s acting that way cause he heard your confession the other day.”

Wipping your head towards him with eyes far too open your confused panic showing through your voice. “What the hell are you talking about. I never confessed not even in front of others.”

He vents a bit leaning down closer to you, “so you seriously don’t remember the day you publicly confessed you want Soundwave.”

Your face blooming with warmth you quickly hush him as you remember what he’s referring to, “ugh i had forgotten about that, …do you think someone told him?”

“Oh doll, I doubt he isn’t aware of the situation.” You bury yourself as far as you can in your arms. Worrying for his true feelings towards you.

It’s interesting to him how every time you don’t want him to know something, your own emotions betray you and become so loud it’s impossible to ignore.

Normally he’d be drained from all the baggage your little brain seems to carry. But recently he’s come to realize that he’s become addicted to your love. 

He can feel what you feel for him.

And anytime you were nearby these feelings of your were stronger. At first it didn’t affect him, but the longer he got attached the harder it was to hold back. 

Slowly but surely, he was falling in love with you. <3

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Masterlist 

previous

[ericvilas]

I read a post about AI about how "oh it's just doing statistics on patterns so it's not really intelligent, look at this type of error it makes" and I thought it would be rude to reblog directly so I'm making my own post:

AI makes mistakes in the ways humans do. The way humans, like, create abstract thoughts, and weird bias and prejudice get into those thoughts, and this is why AI training needs to be very careful to not replicate human bias and frequently stumbles in this pursuit.

Like, yes it doesn't do everything humans do but it does some of the things, and isn't that wild? That we can create a machine that can create abstractions like humans can? That's incredible to me, like we have figured out how to make abstraction machines, and what is thinking if not abstracting!

This kind of error, of assuming that "object A must belong in category X because it is seen in the same kinds of contexts that I have learned things in category X belong in" is a very human mistake! AI falls for optical illusions, it often makes mistakes similar to the ones freshmen get wrong in exams, it is able to capture vibes and that's unsettling and weird and wonderful!

We have a machine that can probe a form of human pattern recognition that we've never been able to see before! And humans are masters of pattern recognition, it's our greatest quality. And we're being crept on by computers in this one aspect, like we were in so many others at different points in history.

[moriitis]

Hey! Happy holidays, moriitis!

This is an unusual curiosity, but... What do you think about Toby being a father?

I feel like he wouldn't like having a child, or maybe he would, I don't know... do you think he would be a good father? (Let's suppose that hypothetically you have a daughter)

Have a nice Christmas, I love you! 💗

Father!Toby Rogers HeadCanons. Fem!Reader.

FIRST, I wanna say how fucking weird it was reading this ask at 5 am because I shit you not, before I went to sleep THIS VERY THOUGHT crossed my mind and I told myself I was gonna write this today. GET OUT OF MY HEAD. No, on a real note, glad we are on the same wave length. I LOVE THIS and thank you for requesting it! Have the most happiest of holidays yourself! <3 AND NO I LOVE YOU.

Content/Warnings; abortion, mentions of miscarriages, blood, birth, children, babies.

If you had asked him what he did on a specific Wednesday two weeks ago, he'd have no idea. That was one of the downsides to being a proxy; the memory loss and foggy mind. But fuck, did he remember the morning you told him you were pregnant. His heart fell through his ass, his skin colour turning fifty shades paler than usual.

Admittedly, his first reaction was to laugh. He'd snort in your face and narrow his eyes suspiciously toward you.

"Weird fucking thing to say."

Would be one of the first things he would say. Because you pranked him so often that he simply didn't believe you and it was such a weird fucking thing to say? What a weird prank?

But when you didn't laugh, his lips pursed nervously and he shifted from one foot to the other. The silence was louder than anything as you both stared at each other. The seriousness on your face, this was going too far.

"You're on birth control... right?"

And before he knew it, you were tearing up and right there and then he wanted a hole to swallow him up and eat him. This was bad, no, worse than bad; this was really fucking serious.

Slender would fucking kill him, he'd kill him first and then kill you. This wasn't supposed to happen, shit, he shouldn't have been fucking with you in the first place and now you were fucking pregnant?!

He wanted to panic, he wanted to dart out the door and leave forever but he was tied to Slender. Not just as a proxy, but a slave; a mere worker.

It was the look on your face too, he couldn't leave you? What kind of man were he? Not that he had a particularly good role model for what being a man was like

God forbid he turned into that man.

"Okay."

He would start -

"Okay, okay, ooookay."

He was reassuring himself more than he were reassuring you and his hands reached out to grip firmly on your shoulders. This didn't have to happen, he could.. well, you could fall down some stairs or better yet, drink some alcohol? That'll get rid of a baby, right?

Those thoughts, those dirty, putrid thoughts. What was he thinking? He was disgusted in himself but he couldn't help it, he was panicking.

He couldn't be a father, he was not made to be a father. What if he turned into him? What if he were to.. god forbid it, lay his hands on the babe? He was a dangerous individual, why should the softness of a baby stop him?

Perhaps it was because it were.. his baby. A life growing inside of... you.

"I can't do it."

He admitted.

"I am not fit to be- I CANNOT be- Our life- What we do- No, no, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I love you but-"

He was rambling. He was afraid, he couldn't bare to look at you because what if he were to suddenly lay a hand on you?

Sitting down with Toby and talking to him was the best option. To clear your minds, to form a plan - to figure out what to do and whether you both wanted this baby.

Toby was honest, so brutally honest that frankly it made you burst into tears.

"It's not that I don't want it- it's that I-.. I can't."

His words hurt so much but he promised he'd be there to help you each step of the way. Fuck, he'd even get Jack in an attempt to try and help with the termination.

But word travelled fast and it sure travelled quick.

Slender's rage was not shouting or screaming; it was the eerie silence or disappointing faceless stare he would give you. It was the nausea that followed, the anxiety that riddled itself in your blood stream.

And just like that, Toby's whole life was gone. You had just.. simply disappeared. And it killed him, the unknowing of what happened to you. It killed him to think that he could've possibly killed you.

But you were not dead. Slender had come to an... agreement.

You were to stay a proxy but you were to terminate the child and with that, he sent you on the other side of the forest. In a cabin, alone and to deal with your emotions.

Jack had came to aid you with the termination.

But something inside of you told you that.. you wanted this child. That perhaps this child was a chance of hope, of normality. That maybe you could escape.

And you hated to bare such a burden on a child that was not yet born.

It took a lot of convincing from Jack, a lot of persuasion to keep the baby and to do regular visits to ensure it was growing healthy. You were to birth the baby alone, for Jack couldn't risk getting caught. But he taught you well, how to handle it and of course gave you lots of books.

It was risky, going against Slender. He would know something was up, especially since you had not come back as quickly as he had expected.

So Jack lied for you, he hated it but did it nevertheless. What was he going to lose?

He told Slender you were in a coma and that he needed to do regular checks to ensure you were alive.

Slender wouldn't know, fuck, Slender wasn't human - so the lie worked perfectly.

The pregnancy was rough. Unwelcoming. You vomited everything up, you were unable to gather firewood due to the fatigue - so on most nights you would be freezing alone.

A part of you didn't expect the baby to survive. That you would miscarriage.

But weeks slogged into months and you were bursting.

And you had to do this alone.

You didn't count how long you were in labour for, but it felt like for days.

So much blood, that something was wrong and you just knew it.

But you pushed through, with each book Jack had given you being an aid.

The baby was born during the night.

And she did not cry. Nor weep, nor whine.

Your heart dropped.

You were slumped on the cabin floor, blood pooling around your thighs and knees as you doubled over. There, on the towels beneath you, were the child. Pale, small.

If it weren't for the shock, you would've moved instantly. But you couldn't. All you could do was watch in disbelief, your head glazed in sweat.

But motherly instincts kicked in quick.

And you reached for the scissors, cutting the cord and making haste to save your daughters life.

Your daughter. A girl. You had no idea what the gender were but it were evident as you helplessly rubbed the babes back, hoping to clear some airways to hear that cry.

Relief washed over you, a cry that would've seen irritating for some; music to your ears.

You had a daughter - she was alive!

It took Jack a couple months until he passed by again, he was on his rounds locally and knew he needed to check up on you. A part of him expected to find you dead and half of him prepared himself to the smell of death as he itched closer toward the cabin. The smell of the rotting corpse either being you, the child or both.

But there was a new smell. A sweeter smell.

He wasn't sure why he was surprised when he discovered the cooing child in your arms but he were.

You had named her Lyla.

And you ached for Toby.

Jack couldn't vouch for the coma lie anymore and he knew that soon you were to be caught.

So, he did what he thought were best. He dragged Toby's sorry ass here. And it took a lot of convincing.

Toby succumbing to depression at the idea of losing you. Spending most days in bed, grieving.

So, when he walked into the cabin, he quite literally dropped to his knees, it was like everything inside him had been healed.

"You're alive-?!" Toby choked out. A part of him believed he were dreaming. His eyes scanned every fibre of your being, your hair, eyes, lips and.. the baby in your arms. His mouth hung agape and you couldn't help the stream of tears that came flooding down your cheeks. The brunette couldn't lie, he couldn't say that you looked well because you didn't. You looked.. so hungry, so weak and yet this beautiful child looked so healthy. "You- is that- am I?" All you could do was nod to his words as you approached him, Toby barely able to find the courage to look at the child in your arms. No, he had to make sure you were real first. His hand reached out, fingertips barely grazing over your cheekbones and there he smashed his lips against your own.

It took a lot of explaining and Toby was.. well, in shock for an hour or two as he tried to come to terms with it all. The idea that you did this.. alone. That you carried this child alone for months, that you gave birth alone. He should've been there, he would've been in a heartbeat!

But that voice in the back of his head reminded him of the words he spoke to you on the day that you announced you were pregnant. Oh, how they were not true.

Because as soon as he glanced at the baby, he knew in that moment that he wanted to be.. a father. Well, he wanted to try.

"She's beautiful.." he whispered, voice hoarse as he fought back the lump in his throat. Toby reached out but stopped himself. What if even a mere touch would make the baby disappear? What if.. somehow, he hurt her?! His expression pained as he hesitated, between wanting to love but being too afraid to do so. The both of you exchanged glances, your own look encouraging him silently. You trusted Toby, despite his nature, despite what he does; you knew he would never hurt her. And you relayed those very thoughts with a look alone as you gently urged the little bundle toward him. Toby wanted to decline but slowly, he took the baby within his own arms. He was awkward, freezing and sitting as still as he could, like she were made out of glass. It made you laugh. "You're not going to hurt her," you reassured with words this time. "But what if the day comes that I do?"

When Toby found out his daughters name were Lyla, he broke down into tears. He was crying so much that he kept calling himself 'such a little bitch' between each sob.

It was pretty funny.

But you didn't laugh, you just rubbed his shoulder reassuringly as he sobbed tears over his daughter.

Which prompted Lyla to whine softly.

And then Toby cried more because he thought he hurt her. Shit, this man was more hormonal than you were.

It took Toby many weeks to adjust to this new lifestyle and he tried his best to form a bond with his daughter. You had the pleasure of nine months to form a bond, Toby had no time to prepare at all.

But it was hard because every time he looked at her, his heart broke into a million tiny pieces.

She was too perfect, too beautiful and anxiety consumed him at the thought of losing her. He had just got you back!

And you were the two girls in his life he loved ever so dearly.

So, he insisted that he looked after her more. Despite the fact that every time he held her, he wanted to fucking die. He was too damn anxious for this shit.

Admittedly, as weeks turned into months, you were thankful for Toby's willingness to parent more often.

But it was hard at the start

It seemed Lyla hated Toby and it frustrated Toby each time she would cry whenever she were in his arms

She was clingy, and you understood both of their emotions.

So when Lyla was asleep, Toby would feel his emotions get the better of him too. He would be angry, but his anger turned more into sadness as he stormed off into the wilderness for some alone time.

And this happened often. Toby needed time and you understood this, a part of you feeling guilty for thrusting this parent role upon him so suddenly - especially after he expressed his discomfort with the idea of being a father.

But it was still early days.

And you were unsure on what happened that particular night but when Toby came back from his usual walks, he was a different man.

And when he gently scooped Lyla up into his arms, it seemed she noticed that too.

Perhaps it was the confidence? Or how calm he appeared?

Whatever it was, it seemed now they were inseparable.

The love in his gaze as he rocked Lyla gently in his arms, like he was holding his entire world and nothing was going to take that away from him.

Well, that was until Slender found out.

And it turned into a literal shit show.

The way Jack came storming into the cabin, bursting your little bubble you had created, your idea of a happy, normal family disappearing as quickly as you had dreamt it.

The panic on Toby's face as he knew.

And you knew.

You expected worse, but Slender was... forgiving.

You were unsure what was said, whether Jack had swayed his mind or perhaps if Toby promised some unspoken promise.

But the cabin you had given birth in was to become your home.

On one condition.

You were banished. No, you would not go back to society - especially not after the things you know and had seen, but you were to stay here until your death. Which would not be a peaceful death, but that day would come. For now, Lyla was fine and despite your worry about her future; Slender agreed that she would be fine.

You did not trust the entity's words. But you were thankful nevertheless.

"How the hell did you get so big?!" You heard Toby yell from the living room, Lyla's giggles followed. From the corner of your eye, Toby spun her around in the space of the living room. There was no denying that the scene warmed your heart, but also made you chew the bottom of your lip anxiously.

Toby always said that you worried about her too much and maybe you did, but fucking hell... if her ankle caught the table or her head on the wall! Rushing over, you quickly waved your arms out. "Whoaa, okay, hold on- she's gonna hurt herself or get sick-!" you quickly spoke, trying to pitch your voice a little louder than Lyla's giggles. Toby stopped momentarily, Lyla in his arms and he looked at you with a questioning look. "She's fine, see?" Toby held her out and she flopped in his arms, almost looking as if she were about to drop on the floor and instinctively you threw your hands out to catch her. The brunette could only chuckle as he bundled her up close to his chest. "You worry too much." Those same words again and you rolled your eyes, a soft crinkle of irritation evident in your brow. Lyla was.. fine and perhaps you did worry too much, but Toby didn't really understand the concept of.. gentle playing. Like the times he'd throw her in the air, it make you wanna vomit at the idea of her hitting her head on the roof, or god forbid - he drops her. She was too little for this roughness and deep down, she'd always be your little baby. But Lyla was nearly two and it broke your heart to admit that, as much as you enjoy watching her grow.

And she preferred playing with Toby than with you. Mostly because she was a carbon copy of Toby himself. From the nose to the hair colour. She had your eyes though, so screw you Toby.

Toby became the very man he promised himself he would become, the very father he wished he had himself.

Loving and caring. Lyla was most certainly Daddy's little girl and Toby wore that badge with pride.

If it weren't for the circumstances and for the fact that Toby does not own a wallet he'd have little pictures of his daughter nestled away inside the pocket of his wallet.

Despite the bumpy start, Lyla couldn't get enough of Toby and he ensured that every night he'd read her a bedtime story. He'd even fall asleep himself sometimes just beside her bed, other nights just wanting to sit close in case something were to happen.

Admittedly, a part of you worried that Toby was.. too attached to her.

But whenever they were together, Toby was healing something inside of him that he thought could never be healed.

And essentially, he was living a childhood he had always wished for through his own daughter.

Eventually, Lyla blossomed into a teenager and it was.... hell.

"I fucking hate this cabin, I hate being here! Why can't we be normal! What's with all this off the grid shit!" The voice yelled from down the hall. Oh, she wasn't wrong, Lyla had every right to be pissed but having to live with an angsty teenager that hated everyone and everything was a lot worse.

And Toby never, NEVER, did the punishments.

Just... strict words.

No, he couldn't trust himself, so let you deal with it.

But at times he would find himself taking Lyla outside for a walk to talk to her. To let her know that he was there if she wanted to talk.

And yes, Toby does 100% sneak her out to go to the nearest town.

All in all, Toby would be, against all odds, the best father he could offer. Though I do see him not wanting kids at all. I also HC that all the proxies are infertile anyway.

But if it were to play out, it'd probably be something like this. Toby would be the cool dad where you could just about get away with some stuff. Toby would also be one of those guys where he claims he hates the cat kid and then forms such a close bond with the cat kid.

Oh, and is this man protective of his children too. !

Very much refers to his children as 'sperm pet.' Or he pulls a Kratos and he's kinda like 'get 'ere, boy/girl.'

I RAMBLED TOO MUCH

I feel like I didn't really answer your question

I'm sorry. I will write more about this in the future though.