#not to mention the body image issues and other personal problems which seem to keep amplifying as my birthday gets closer

[lewishamiltonstuff]

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[toastyrobos]

All of you (Echo x female reader one shot)

Warning: since it’s Echo: mentions of missing limbs and lack of self esteem, body image issues, etc. plus a bit suggestive towards end.

Word count: 2989

((Reader was a ex Jedi before order 66 and was in love with Echo. She was too afraid to tell him and missed her opportunity. Regretting it every day since the Citadel accident. Now she’s been hiding out, buying her time until things settle down. The last thing she expected to find on Ord Mantell is Echo. Alive. Overcome with grief and fear she’s reluctant to trust him or the team he’s with. And what will he do when he sees the person who has been at the forefront of his mind again after all this?))

Keeping your head down was easy. Staying focused was another story entirely. As a former 'safe keeper' as they once were called was difficult. Especially when you saw innocent people being tossed and shoved around by the troopers you once called friends.

It was a hard pill to swallow at first. Seeing the men you worked so closely with for years, had gotten together with at the 79..turn on their generals so easily. Like it was nothing. It was like a switch had been flipped. And that's exactly what it was.

According to Rex. After he located you and told you everything it was a devastating blow. Not only had the clones had their humanity stripped from them, but they had also had their minds violated. It was so cruel and too horrible to wrap your head around the very notion. But you did.

Eventually you had to move on. Jumping from planet to planet seemed like the most logical option. Staying in one place for too long tended to draw unwanted attention.

The long stretches of silence were the worst parts. Most of the time your thoughts drifted to him.

Echo.

The ex arc trooper.

His face was always present in your mind. His warm brown eyes, the rough patches of his freshly shaven chin, his smile. You missed him too much it hurt.

Even if you were a Jedi..ex before. Ex now. And attachments were forbidden, you still harbored feelings for him. It was difficult not to. He made you smile, laugh, and just had a wonder about him. He and Fives always managed to make you laugh. But it was Echo that held your heart.

It helped too, that out on the battlefield you two worked well together. To the point where you were able to read each other with a simple glance. You always did have the best time on missions with him. He would shower you with story after story about battles he witnessed. You loved his enthusiasm. You had loved being around him. You had just loved him.

But you never got the chance to tell him. The Citadel was his last mission, during which he was killed. He saved so many that day, but he wasn't able to safe himself.

You were never the same after that. It was like you were a shell of your former self. You felt nearly hollowed. You pushed through it until it was too much and you abandoned the order not long after. It was a hard decision to make, but your mind wasn't in a good place.

Not long after, order 66 happened and you had to take on a new identity. You had no choice. To the Empire you were still alive. You needed to lay low. Your black long hair had to go. Replaced with a short blonde cut. And you needed a job. One that couldn't be tracked.

That's how you ended up on Ord Mantell, working for Cid. An old contact of yours said she'd hire you no questions asked. It was worth a shot. She wasn't that bad. She paid decent and gave you a room in the back. It wasn't much, but you didn't mind. Your regal days as a Jedi we're long over anyway.

~~~

Sweat dripped down your brow as you made your day back to Cid's parlor. You had no problem going off world for a mission, but you had hoped she would be more forthcoming with what certain missions entailed. Specifically if you needed to dress lighter for a task that involved stepping foot on a lava planet. It was times like this you were glad that you had cut your hair.

Sometimes you missed it, but today was not one of those times.

      "Next time Cid let me know if—" your voice died in your throat when your eyes saw them. Your breath hitched and you froze for a moment before rapidly whipping out your blasters and aiming it at the bunch of familiar clones. Fear and panic took hold of you while you stared them down. The young girl with them peaked her head out to see what was going to happen.

But your attention was fixed on the thought to be dead now very much alive ex arc trooper. Your hands trembled as your weapons stared them down.

It was not possible. You clutched your blasters tighter.

Your mind must have been playing a trick on you.

You must be hallucinating him.

Echo was dead. You read the reports.

But you...you knew his face. Knew his kind wonder filled eyes.

The very same eyes that stared starstruck back at you.

You were in disbelief over the nature that he was standing before you, very much alive. But you were also trembling. A fear so prominent in your eyes at the notion that they would hurt you. All clones could and would. It had quickly become a constant in your on the run life.

Still trying to find your voice you spoke again. "Stay back!" You ordered the group. You were not taking any chances. Not anymore. You had learned that mistake all too quickly.

    "We're not going to hurt you". Hunter said, easing his hands up as to say we're not going to harm you. You shook your head, tears started to pool in your eyes.

Yes they were.

Echo was speechless. Drinking in your appearance after so long, relief flooded his lungs at seeing that you were still alive. It had been so long. But concern also made itself known. No doubt the blasters pointed at them, meant that you had heard rumors about the inhibiter chips. How could you have not? But you were not in any danger. No.

Both of you were too frozen to talk so it was up to the young blonde girl beside him to shatter the silence.

    "Do you know her, Echo?"

That seemed to snap him out of his trance. "Y-yeah I do".

You nearly broke at hearing his voice. One of your blasters fell to the floor. The hand once holding it, shot up to cover your mouth. Your body was trembling. His voice....It still held patches of that warmth, that could sweep you up. But something about it seemed...off. No doubt from what he went through as your eyes took in his pale appearance.

He could feel your eyes roaming his figure. The cyber enhancements. His pale sunken in face. The dark circles under his eyes. And it made him avert his gaze. That saddened you.

    "I'm Omega". The young girl introduced herself trying to ease the tension. Feeling a dampness on your cheeks, you hastily swiped your tears away. Then you kneeled down to her height, a nervous smile broke out on your face.

Not a single threatening thought or intention reflecting back at you as you met her eyes. Nor were there any in the others as you scanned them over. You slowly lowered your other weapon. Your body still in shock. They weren't going to hurt you. You could sense it. Feel it. He wasn't going to hurt you. He never could. Never did.

Knowing that he wasn't under the chips control anymore you nearly burst into tears.

He was okay

He was alive.

    "It-it's nice to meet you, Omega". You managed to choke out, still in shock and in disbelief that Echo was alive.

    "Mega, let's give them a moment". Hunter said ushering Omega back to them. It was clear to him that these two needed to talk. He had heard the stories from Echo about you. Had met you on several occasions and found you to be a skilled Jedi and someone that Echo cared for deeply. He already felt like he knew you in some way.

The others followed behind him into the back. Leaving just you and Echo standing completely still at the bar. The only sounds coming from the humming slot machines and buzzing lights. You stood up from the ground.

Your eyes fell once again on the ex arc trooper. He looked so different, appearance wise, but his aura was still the same. Brave, loyal, kind, warm...he was still the Echo you had known. Even beneath his now pale, near white skin and sunken cheeks he was still the Echo you loved.

You wanted to ask what happened, but judging by the uncomfortable expression across his face and the missing limbs you weren't sure if you should have. You didn't want to push him to remember it.

    "It's okay". His sudden soft voice startled you.

You hesitated, but eventually you asked and he told you everything. Every gruesome, awful and horrible detail of his capture. It broke your heart to hear what the man you loved went through. What he had to endure for so long. What he lost. And what that had cost him.

The next time you saw Rex you would be sure to thank him a million times. Telling him how grateful you were that he pushed so hard to get Echo back. And when you saw clone force 99 again, you would let them know just how much them going in blindly to rescue Echo meant to you.

You didn't realize you had been crying until Echo's only hand reached out and wiped your tears away with his thumb. The gentle carcasses of his textured glove sent sparks down your spine. Before he realized what he was doing and tried to pull away, you gripped his hand between yours, dragging your fingers over his knuckles. The gesture causing his cheeks to dust a light shade of pink.

"I-I just can't believe your alive". Your voice crumbled as you spoke. "When the others came back and told me what happened I-I was so broken. It was so hard to believe that you were gone. And now..." There were no words to express the happiness you felt that he was here.

He sighed. "I know".

Seeing what his death did to the women he loved pained him greatly. If only he had told her. Confessed that he loved her before he went to the Citadel. Maybe that would have changed things. Or maybe not.

The outcome would have been the same. He was a solider and it was his duty to fight for the Republic. Sacrifice himself if need be. After all clones were replaceable.

He would only ever be that. And now he was a broken one. More machine then man, as Tech had informed him. He was a shell of a man. Not even half of a man. There was no way you'd love him now. Not when he couldn't give you a normal relationship. Not when he couldn't hold you in his arms with both of them.

It did not go unnoticed by you at how he flinched when you attempted to reach for his other arm. His body just reached. A somber expression overshadowed your face. He was intentionally avoiding meeting your eyes now.

"Echo". Your voice was as gentle as a whisper. It hit his heart with such a blow. Oh how he missed your angel like voice. How he missed you!

"Echo". There it was again. Softer. "Look at me".

He couldn't.

"Please". You were pleading with him now. You just wanted to see him. See his new yet familiar face up close. You missed it so much.

He sighed deeply. "I-I can't".

"Why not?". You wanted to know why.

He was sacred to tell you. Scared that you wouldn't feel the same way about him, especially with the way he looked now. How could anyone as beautiful as you want someone like him?! But he needed to get it off his chest. Let it be there out in the open. Even if it ended with his heart shattered.

"Because it's too hard".

That confused you. "What do you mean?"

He shook his head. "It's too hard to look at you knowing that I can't have you. Knowing that I can't give you everything that you want or deserve". He was starting to tremble. "It's too hard knowing that I'll never be able to wrap both of my arms tight around you. I can't—I can't give you that".

If your heart broke before at hearing his story, it now shattered like glass at hearing him feel so ashamed of himself for how he looked.

You quickly cupped his face between your hands, forcing him to face you. Tears fully sliding down your face as you regarded him.

"I love you Echo".

His eyes widened while his breath hitched deep within. He must have misheard you. There was no way you could have....

"I love you". He had heard it right. "And it breaks my heart to know this is how you think of yourself, Echo. It doesn't matter how you look. I fell in love with you because of who you are on the inside".

He blinked. "Y-you love me..?" He stuttered as he tried to wrap his head around what was happening. You nodded your head.

"So much".

His features turned grim. He shook his head. Knocking himself out of the dream, that he so desperately wanted.

How could someone as perfectly Stunning and breathtaking as you, want someone imperfect and broken like him? You deserved better!

"How can you say that when I look like this?! How can you say that knowing what I am?! I can't give you a normal relationship!". He questioned you with a raised tone, gesturing to his mutilated body held together by wires and mechanical parts.

You hated how he was belittling himself. Hated that he thought so little of himself. Hated that he felt so much shame and guilt. When to you he was your world. He always had been. Your heart ached because of it.

     "Echo, your handsome. You always have been. A few cyber enhancements or pale skin isn't going to change how I feel about you. You shouldn't be ashamed by them".

     "It should". He muttered under his breath. But in the silence of the parlor you could hear him as if he was speaking in his normal tone.

Needing to knock some sense back into him, you did the only thing you could think of. And boy was it a bolder move then you usually had in you. But you had to get through to him that you saw all of him and wanted everything.

You crashed your mouth down onto his. Your plump lips on his startled him. That was definitely not what he thought you were going to do. The last thing he expected. But he liked it. Oh maker did he like it.

   So naturally, he leaned, pushing himself against you. Allowing his hand to cup your cheek and bring you closer to him. You brought your hand up to cover his and then you reached down to touch his cybernetic one. Feeling your human skin brush up against his metal replacement he tensed up and tried to pull away. But you stopped him.

     "Are you sure?"

He searched your eyes for any doubt, but he found none. There was no disgust. Not a single hint of it. Nor were you repulsed by them. In fact there were no negative feelings. All that stared back at him was...love. Happiness. And contentment. This is what you really wanted. His breathing turned unsteady.

You really really wanted him.

All of him.

You loved him....

You loved him.

Then there was nothing left to do. Wasting no more time he made his own confession known.

    "I love you". Your eyes welled up at those three powerful words you had waited so long to hear. "By the maker I love you so much. I wasted so much time not telling you. Afraid that you wouldn't want to be with a clone". He chuckled lightly, his own tears beginning to build at the corners of his eyes.

"Fives was right though". His thumb swiped away your own tears. You pressed your cheek into his palm, wanting to take in his long awaited touch.

Before, mentioning Fives name would bring up too many heartbreaking feelings. Now it only held wonderful memories.

You smiled so brightly. "About what?"

"That you'd feel the same way about me that I do about you".

It was your time to chuckle while more tears streamed down your face. This time though, they were ones of joy.

“He always did know more then us".

Echo looked longingly into your eyes. Still in awe that you had chosen him, but was elated that you had.

“Yeah. He did".

Your brought his lips back to yours and he had no complaints about it. He leaned into your touch and pulled you into his lap. Wanting to feel your body near his, feel your skin as his hand roamed along your back. It wouldn't be long before his brothers made their way back into the parlor and found the two of you in a compromising position, but neither of you cared.

You tasted so sweet to him, like a nectar filled cocktail and he wouldn't let anything or anyone stop him from consuming you. Maybe not here, in the open. But oh he would have you. He had waited long enough.

Especially when you had chosen him. Made it clear that you wanted to be with him no matter what he looked like. No matter the cyber enhancements. You saw past that. It didn't digest you or make you think twice about being with him.

The emotions you exuded out of him made him feel whole again. You made him feel like a man again. And he would spend ever single waking minute, for how ever long you wanted to be with him, showing you just how much that meant to him.

[kaisarionn]

💐 i love your energy it’s so good and it’s just what this dying app needs! Can I plz plz plz request the ghouletts (kinda platonic idk just friendly way) with a ghoulette reader (if you don’t do that normal fem reader is fine) and they are having “problems” with their period ever since they were summoned onto earth. And they NEED to see a doctor but they are scared and uncomfortable bc yk, period talk with doctor is EH. But they comfort them and all that shit. Sorry I just think there is no reason to hide problems with periods if you have them, pray for me

A/n: I agree with this! I’ve had some issues with period problems to the point that I needed a doctor and medicine, it’s the worst. Luckily I’m doing better and I hope you are too! Thank you for the request!

Word count: 783. Angst with comfort. Fem!ghoulette reader. (Tw for mention of periods, though nothing graphic) (I couldn’t find an image with more than two ghoulettes)

Cuddle puddle 🩵

You had been dealing with it by yourself for a while, being far too embarrassed to bring it up to anyone, especially since you were new, but you couldn’t hide it for long due to how badly it affected you.

For one week a month you were practically inconsolable and would hardly leave your room and the ghoulettes immediately noticed this.

They tried to talk to you, but you always go nervous and avoided the topic altogether, until today. Your period was hitting you particularly hard and the ghoulettes were determined to take care of you, which leads to now.

There was a soft knock at the door, but you were in too much pain to get up, luckily the door was unlocked since you rushed to your bed after trying to get some food. Sunshine opens the door and all four ghoulettes come in with various looks of concern upon seeing you curled up on your bed, you looked way worse than they had imagined. “W-what are you all doing here?” You look at them a little embarrassed, not wanting anyone around while you felt so horrible.

It was already hard trying to keep it together long enough to get food without crying, but now you had four ghoulettes in your room while you looked and felt like a mess. “Honey..” Cirrus says softly, shutting the door behind them and coming to sit down in the bed next to you. “Why are you all curled up?” Sunshine sits on the floor next to you, cumulus sits in a nearby chair with Aurora in her lap since there wasn’t much furniture to sit on.

“I feel sick..” You mumble, trying not to tear up from how bad you feel, which was getting harder and harder. “Well we brought you some stuff!” Sunshine nearly yells, but tamps down her enthusiasm when she remembers how bad you feel. “Yeah, we got you food, medicine, a personal heating pad.” Aurora giggles softly, pointing to Sunshine who the ghoulettes often curled up with when they were cold.

“We can leave if you want, we just want to make sure you’re okay first.” Cumulus adds on, holding up an actual heating pad incase you do want them to leave. You start to sniffle softly, a combination of happy tears from feeling so cared for, and overwhelmed tears since your cramps were killing you. “T-thank you..” The ghoulettes take this as their cue to curl around you to comfort and take care of you. Sunshine pulls you into her arms and placing her hand on your pelvis, warming them up to ease your pain.

The others get comfortable around you however they can, wanting to practically cocoon you with their bodies. “Now what’s wrong?” Cirrus knows it’s your period, they all do as they’ve had similar experiences, but she’s trying to get to the bottom of the issue.

“E-ever since I was summoned here my period has been all messed up and nothing helps like it used to!” You bury your face into a pillow, trying to hide your tears. Cumulus gently rubs your back, trying to soothe you as best they can. “Aw sugar.. why haven’t you gone to the doctor? I’m sure they can help.”

You lightly shake your head at the mention of doctors, and they can tell you seem a bit nervous about it. “I don’t like them.. a-and this stuff is so embarrassing..” Aurora scoots around a little bit, trying to get a bit closer to you. “I know doctors are scary, but we can go with you! Cirrus takes me to my appointments, she makes them less scary.”

Cirrus smiles and gently brushes your hair out of your face. “I would be happy to take you, we all would. Doctors don’t have to be scary dear.. and this shouldn’t be embarrassing. We all have to deal with this.” Cumulus grabs out the jar of cookie dough she brought you, offering it out, which you promptly took with a smile. “We’ll always help you out sugar.”

Sunshine opens the jar for you with a soft smile, before going back to kneading at your stomach. “Yeah! Always.” You giggle softly and take a bite of cookie dough with a smile. “You girls are the best.”

[hyperfixingfr]

big fan of your peacock design for Hoagie because idk maybe I’m reading too into it but the show making him a walrus (I think?? Been a while since I’ve seen the episode) just felt like a cheap and lazy “haha fat character” joke

It was actually worse than a walrus, it was a hippo! And yes, you're right. That was exactly the point of him being made a hippo. Big, fat, and hungry.

CW// a bit of some serious criticism of KNDs writing.

Hoagie was a comedic relief character who was supposed to be viewed as mock worthy material, no matter how much it extended to real life bigotry. One of the biggest flaws of the show is the mediocre at best writing. It had good jokes, but that all goes to shit the minute they use other people's harmless traits as a gag. Plus, they were horribly inconsistent. The treatment of Hoagie was horrible and I don't mean that in a, "ohhh no my favorite character is being bullied!" kind of way. That's not how you pick on a character unless you're also intending to give the character severe mental issues and self image problems, which never happened in canon beyond slight hints that he was merely anxious. Hoagie was always portrayed to be this completely oblivious and lacking of response character who you could freely pick on because he never felt bad about the way he was talked about. Not only is that completely unrealistic and taking away his character, but it's also implying that you can just... Say those things to people. And they won't feel a thing.

If Hoagie being mocked in those ways happened to be some sort of emotional arc, I would understand that. But the problem is that, it wasn't. Hardly anything came of it. He didn't even seem to flinch despite him being young and susceptible to a more difficult time handling emotions. A kid his age would be ruined with that kind of treatment. People who were treated like him at his age end up in places I shouldn't even mention right now. And they show clear signs of it. I know they do, because I was one of those kids. Yet, Hoagie really never budged beyond maybe a frown in the aftermath he'll hold for like... 5 seconds. Max. Suddenly, he's over it. Like he's a mature adult capable of handling feelings and understanding that they're wrong and why they're wrong. I wouldn't expect them to go ham on anything, but shit. At least a more accurate response, like keeping his head down and holding a frown the rest of the episode. No kid would hear the kind of bullshit he hears and experiences and does nothing. Children would cry, become sad, get angry. And he's not one to get angry, so it's kind of obvious what he'd do otherwise. Probably more likely to sit in silence than cry, but my point stands.

Absolutely horrible to have done what they did with their writing. Not only did they feed the flirty Asian girl stereotype and the chill motherly black girl stereotype, but they also enforced the idea that healthy but fat people are flawed for their completely normal body. The fat jokes weren't even funny. They could've made fat jokes without bringing down fat people.

And I don't even wanna hear the whole "but it was made in the 2000s" bullshit because I can name five shows that aired before KND with fat main characters that never, EVER made a harmful fat joke. There's a reason why Ed, Edd n Eddy was considered peak comedy and KND wasn't. Because Ed, Edd n Eddy never made derogatory and degrading jokes about completely harmless things like a person's body. And that's with Ed and Eddy being fat! It's pretty simple - the show just... Wasn't well written. The time period has little excuse considering how easily other shows had been funny without their weird mockery. And I'm telling you right now, KND definitely had at least a minor impact on how children viewed fat people. If they didn't provoke the thought in the children who watched, they enforced it with their jokes. Not exactly a great thing to have done.

If you need to put someone down to be funny, you aren't funny. Simple as that. Hoagie could have gotten so much more development if they were being more realistic. This is Sci-Fi, of course he'd still be a human with human reactions. And they could have done so much with it, too. It would have been nice for there to have been a plot relating to his struggle with bullying. I would've loved to see him develop his character... Hoagie and Kuki hardly developed like the others. And I'm reaching to say Abby did because it's far less than the other two.

And really, it sucks. I love seeing fandom interpretations of him because they try to take into account his true character. He's a sweet, nerdy boy who loves to use comedy to cheer himself and others up. He's the pinnacle of empathy development in children (excluding the, uh... Weird misogynistic stuff...). He's such a loveable character but the show really did their best to try and ruin him and his reputation.

Sorry for the long rant but it gave me an excuse to dish out this information. I don't think everyone realizes just how intentional the mockery of Hoagie was.

[crackinwise]

Hmmm. This is a timely story to tell (and a better written show should tell it, with input from girls/women & trans kids in sports also), but it's like they made what are serious issues into trivial, almost satire moments. Compared to how original Quantum Leap handled its stories of racism, homophobia, ableism, etc., it seems so Twitter-level shallow. (Altho they did fuck up their actual Women's Lib episode severely back then.)

Making the only girl on the basketball team that's slightly irked by a trans teammate be a white girl who's just bitter she's not as good and really being pushed by her stereotypical "Karen" mom, rubbed me the wrong way. Like, instead of delving into real worries, misconceptions and nuance that can be discussed, the ep only presents the problem as Evil Cis Women: The Meme. Again and again it was women in the wrong and men being progressive here. Whitewashing the main threat that men in positions of power and men killing trans women of color on the streets are to trans rights & safety.

For example: having the principle, who's a Black woman, be a hardass antagonist and use "ain't nobody got time for that"; the "mY mOm ThE FeMiNiSt" line just for stating the fact women have facial hair; the mom being the wrong one for protecting her daughter while Ben as the dad is the hero fighting for her visibility; Addison feeling guilty she personally didn't somehow save trans soldiers from a ban as if women in the military don't face their own problems of being routinely raped by fellow soldiers and officers; and having the "Karen" caricature be the one to mention women's Title IX fight as if we're supposed to find something wrong with that achievement. It all sounded so Derogatory. How do you lift trans kids by slapping down other women? The writers then seemed to keep writing angry outbursts for the trans girl, which... They know that's not a helpful image, right? Whose side are they playing on?

In the end, the cause is won because a Black teammate told the "Karen" all the girls would end up getting blood tests and body exams by the school if she didn't back down, referencing Black women mistreated in sports, both intersex and not. So...how is that a fix for anything when it's just using scare tactics at the expense of misogynoir to shut the Evil Woman up? "Haha they do it to Black women all the time," and that's just shrugged off?!? This whole thing about trans kids in sex segregated sports gets summed up as a 'weird women adults vs wise kids' issue as if irl girls in sports don't have their own questions and opinions that people keep talking over on both sides. It feels like this episode tried to say something but then stomped on its own foot.

[turtlemagnum]

self indulgent rant about my own experiences with body shaming and what i view as my own lack of attractiveness as opposed to what other people seem to think about me

so like, from what i see people talk about online in terms of body image issues, it seems to come from other people's opinions for most people? and that's wild to me, because i'm not sure i've ever had anybody other than myself call me ugly. like, i knew a person who was probably the most attractive person i've ever known, like honest to god celebrities and porn stars can't compare to her, and she told me that i was attractive. and yet, as i exist, i look in the mirror and am disgusted with what i see, y'know? i feel fat and ugly and overly hairy, and while i am inarguably fat and hairy, that's also like, attractive to some people? which is wild to me, because i unequivocally feel like the guy in an ugly bastard hentai, yet this is all internal, and i don't know where this is fuckin coming from???

in regards to body shaming, i'll say i've only meaningfully experienced it once, and i need to specify that this isn't meant to be a #humblebrag or anything like that, because this was sincerely and deeply damaging to me when it happened. but that beautiful person i mentioned, well. i was young, and stupid, and i had finally measured my dick for the first time, and it turned out i was well endowed. i told her about this, and she said i was "too big". my heart fucking dropped out of my chest, something so mild, but so accusatory, it hurt me beyond belief. i already have problems with rejection, and this was a rejection of who i am as a physical being where i have no recourse to change this shit. hell, while i've definitely grown since then, i lost like an inch and am still back to where i was when i knew her because i've also gained a lot of weight. so like, i really empathize with other men shamed for their dick size, because while it happened to me for the opposite reason than it's societally expected to, i'm sure it still hurts the same, y'know? this shit sucks, man.

now, fit all this in with my recent lack of romantic success, right? i tried using a dating app a while back, and got about as close to no attention as i could've gotten without literally getting no attention. i used bumble which meant that i couldn't message people first, and i think i got like 2 or maybe 3 messages, and one of them was just somebody asking me if i wanted to play fucking minecraft, only for him to summarily ghost me. and like, on things like that, your looks are really all that matter to other people, right? so that just hammered it home for me, "i shouldn't fucking even bother"

i don't know where i'm going with all of this, to be frank. just helps getting it out, i guess?? i dunno man, this sucks. i've been telling myself i need to work on myself before i can get into a romantic relationship, but i'm not sure what i can even do in the isolation i'm in. it feels like everyone i care about slowly pushes me away, doesn't care what i have to say, doesn't even bother responding. it hurts, seeing people go about their lives without me, y'know? it feels like i'm always there for people when they need me, and never the other way around. i'm always quicker to respond to messages, which doesn't sound like a big deal, but when i'm the only one who seems to give a shit in a relationship, it feels hard to keep going. do i care too much??? should i care as much as i do???? god, i want to LOVE, i want to care for somebody, and i want for somebody to fucking reciprocate. aren't i good enough??? will i ever be good enough????? the island between me and every other fucking person feels like an eternity, and i seem to be the only one that cares. i want to love, and it feels like nobody wants to love me. maybe this is what i deserve, for the people i've hurt. for all the times i've tried to help, and only made it worse. maybe this hell is deserved. hell if i know

[mademoisellehypergamy]

✨ CREATING A PERSONA FOR HYPERGAMY & SOCIAL CLIMBING  ✨

The votes are in and “Persona” won! Ladies, get the notebooks out. Class is in session. And this is gonna be a long one.

Be honest with me: Are you currently your ideal woman? The majority of you will probably answer honestly and say no. And there’s nothing wrong with admitting that. The harsh reality is most women on their hypergamous journey aren’t even close to being the ideal woman they aspire to be. Hell, the average woman (hypergamous or not) will probably live her life never being able to become that woman, if we’re being completely honest here.

I believe every hypergamous woman should create and adopt a persona. You are who you believe to be. When I was younger, my teachers and parents told me I was academically gifted. So guess what? I believed the same! That pushed me to work even harder in school. Same concept applies here. You are who you believe to be. A persona isn’t a “fake” version of you. It is you. Your ideal person. It is malleable, so it can change at anytime. Just like you changed throughout your life.

STEP 0 - WHY YOU SHOULD ADOPT A PERSONA

✨Not Everyone Will Win the Birth Lottery. But that doesn’t mean you can’t rewrite your past, and repave your future path. Let’s face it: some of you were born into bad circumstances; abusive families, poverty, toxic relationships, obstacles and barriers, etc. And some of you are living lives currently that you aren’t satisfied with: stressful job, health issues, bad environment, *insert sob story here*, blah, blah, blah, woe is me!  But should your current and past conditions get in the way of your hypergamous journey? No! Absolutely not. 

✨You Can’t Be the Same Basic B*tch Forever. Okay b*tch, when you were being “true to yourself” in the past, look where it got you. Probably in a less than favorable situation. Congratulations for being an authentic basic b*tch! 🥳😊

Ladies, change is necessary. When you started your hypergamous journey, you underwent a change. Are you saying your hypergamous self is fake? Of course it isn’t! It’s still you, just an “elevated you”. One that is more aware and knows what she wants. 

✨ Most People Don’t Even Know Who TF They Are. It’s sad, but true. Most people are lost and suppressing their true desires and personality. I’m here encouraging you ladies to create your ideal persona and to become this woman. Because this woman is who you are deep inside, who you want to be. Stop hiding her! Create her, and become her! As long as this person isn’t harming anyone, there is no reason you shouldn’t chase your dream self.

STEP 1 - CHOOSE & CREATE YOUR PERSONA

This is the fun part ladies! Time to choose and create your new persona!

✨ What Kind of Woman Do You Aspire to Be?  Have fun with this ladies! What kind of woman have you always dreamt of becoming? Is she wildly intelligent and beautiful? Or perhaps she has a heart of gold and is adored by all?  Nothing is off limits. This is you.

For those of you who are truly struggling, below I have included a few examples of common personas. If you don’t know where to begin, choose one as the “foundation” and build on it. Make it your own!

*Disclaimer: Anyone that I mentioned/included below is simply for inspiration. Not all of these women are hypergamous. This is just for inspiration*

1. The Socialite/ The “It” Girl: This is the girl that everyone knows. She’s always at a party with a glass of champagne, wearing the latest styles, and living the BEST life. She’s glamorously unattainable and few have access to her, but somehow she’s a part of every social circle.

Inspiration: Jamie Chua (https://www.instagram.com/ec24m/)

2. The Traveler: This is the girl that travels constantly. Whether it’s across the globe or to a different state/town, she’s always on the go! No one seems to know how she funds her lifestyle because she always appears to be traveling and never working. Her pictures are always on point and high quality, with a combination of bikini pictures, relaxing scenery, exotic foods, and endless hotels.

Inspiration: Jennifer Tuffen (https://www.instagram.com/izkiz/)

3. The Influencer: Think of the ultimate Instagram Baddie; perfect body (usually because of surgery), full lips, carefully applied makeup, nails always done, hair on point. She is sponsored by all the clothes brands, and lives lavishly. She’s always out at a restaurant and traveling. Typically dresses in more revealing clothes/lots of bikinis.  What differentiates her from the Socialite? The degree of elegance and class. While the Socialite gives you an “heiress” vibe, the Influencer is more on the “flashy celebrity” side.

Inspiration: Kaylar Will (https://www.instagram.com/kaylarwill/)

4. Femme Fatale: She rarely posts on social media, but when she does, it only makes you question her existence more. This girl is beautifully sensual, and her social media only reveals bits and pieces of her life. She is an entire mystery, no one knows about her private life. One day she’ll be flying from London, the next she’ll be visiting an art gallery  She’ll sometimes post images of gifted roses with poetry captions. She oozes seduction and dark mystery. 

Inspiration: Dita Von Teese (https://www.instagram.com/ditavonteese) Now I thought long and hard about who to choose for this one, and if you take a moment to look at Dita’s IG account, you will understand why. You will notice that the ONLY thing she posts about is her clothes/lingerie brand or things relating to business. She reveals nothing about her personal life. Every post is promotion about her business. In fact, the last time she posted something about her “life” was on October 8th when she posted her CAT modeling another designer’s scarf. She’s a very discreet woman, and it works in her favor.

5. Girl Next Door: You know that basic b*tch that’s SUPER popular for no reason? This is her. From her Starbucks to her Tiktoks, she’s just your average girl living her life. In a way, she isn’t a threat because she seems approachable, relatable, and friendly enough through social media. Something about her aspires others that they can achieve a similar lifestyle. She’s terribly basic, but somehow, it works. 

Inspiration: Loren Gray (https://www.instagram.com/loren/)

6. Exotica: *This persona is best suited for women of color* She is exotically beautiful and unique. She is a trendsetter, not a follower. She has an air of heightened sexuality, with a touch of grounded-spirituality. Something about her is wild and untamed, and she oozes excitement and adventure. 

Inspiration: Monica Leon, or “Danger”. Now if you’re in my generation, you may remember the reality show “For the Love of Ray J” (which was ghetto btw💀). To this day, one girl that I will NEVER forget on that show, was “Danger”, the girl with the tiger tattoo on her face and that NO ONE liked, but Ray J was obsessed with. Although she no longer is on Instagram (and has since legally changed her name), I still believe she naturally embodied that exotic and mysterious woman persona. I recommend watching the show for free on Youtube just to observe her (and only her because the other women were pickme’s  💀)

7. The Luxurious Diamond: This woman is the epitome of class and elegance. She exudes femininity and grace, and holds an air of mystery by only showing us bits and pieces of her life. What we see is soft luxuries, wineries, beautiful clothes/scenery, and a life of comfort. She balances a mature, elegant, ladylike presence, with subtle girly-youthfulness. 

Inspiration: Г-жа Анисимова   https://www.instagram.com/creme_de.la_femme/

✨How Does She Look Like? From her hair to how she wears her makeup, be able to create a vivid description of her appearance. Being able to do this will show you where to work on with your current appearance.

✨Personality We all have traits about ourselves that we don’t like. This is your chance to identify your traits that you love and maximize them, while also working on the aspects of your personality that are a bit more problematic.

It’s important to recognize that some “negative” traits are not really negative. Society just shames us for them. For example, “The Socialite” persona may be polite, but that doesn’t mean she’s super open and friendly with everyone. Not everyone is her friend, and she is naturally unattainable. So why would she be super friendly to everyone? Some may call her “standoffish”, but I call it “selective”.

✨Past Self? Not a Problem.  So let’s say you had a less than perfect childhood and endured a lot of trauma. Not a problem, just reinvent your past! Now I’m not saying to straight up lie and make up a crazy story about how you grew up with billionaire parents and traveled the globe. I’m saying adopt a realistic story that’ll help you on your journey. 

For example, if your date were to ask about your past, instead of telling him how tragic your childhood was and how you were homeless and abused by your parents, and no longer have a relationship with them, you can say: “I moved around a lot as a child (“homelessness”), so I really enjoyed being able to interact with a lot of different people (make the negative seem positive). My parents still move around a lot, so it’s hard for us to meet (explains why you aren’t in contact with your parents). 

Reword and reframe, ladies. Not everyone needs to know everything.

STEP 2 - BRING HER TO LIFE

✨Remove. You cannot embrace your new persona, your new IDENTITY, if you are still stuck in the past. And that includes past connections that do not serve you. Some of your old friends (college friends, childhood friends, etc.) are not meant to accompany you on this journey. And that’s OKAY. Same with other toxic relationships in your life, family included. You will have to decide who to keep, and who to distance yourself from.

✨ Social Media! I’ve mentioned this in an earlier post, but social media is the easiest way for you to push your new persona. You control the content that goes on your social media, so even if you haven’t fully embodied your new persona, you can sure as hell fake it on social media. 

- Unless your persona is a socialite/influencer type, avoid posting too often. - Be consistent; if you retouch your images, make sure its consistent with all your photos. - Be mindful of what people tag you in/post about you. You know that “friend” who always posts the ugliest pictures of you? Yeah. They’re not your friend, hun. 

✨Dress. The. Part. Okay, sis. You can have the personality down perfectly, but if the look doesn’t match, no one will buy it. Your look is the first thing people notice, so invest in it. It doesn’t cost a lot, especially with fast fashion sites like Shein that sells clothes for $5. Just be able to keep up the appearance.

✨ Immerse Yourself in the Environment.  Looking the part and having the right personality is not enough, ladies! It wouldn’t make sense for you to be a “Socialite” sharing pictures of you eating at Red Lobster and Olive Garden every night. It wouldn’t make sense for the “Traveler” persona to share only bathroom selfies in her apartment. You have to live like the woman you aspire to be, and that includes placing yourself in those environments.

If you are not in the place financially to do so, learn to project the image without spending money. Ex: If you can’t afford to go to Hawaii, go to your local beach and take bomb ass pictures. Don’t tag the location. People will automatically see a beach in your picture and assume you are on vacation traveling. Get creative, ladies. 

✨You Owe Them Nothing. Ladies! Remember you don’t owe anyone anything. Not an explanation, not your time, nothing. So if you are living this new persona and people are asking questions you don’t want to answer: don’t. This is your life. 

STEP 3 - YOUR PERSONA WHILE DATING HYPERGAMOUSLY & SOCIAL CLIMBING

So now that you have created your ideal persona, and taken the steps to incorporate it into your life, how can you use your newfound persona to aid you on your hypergamous journey and while social climbing?

✨Infiltrate New Circles. Your persona should be someone exciting and enticing. People love befriending people who are happy and adventurous. Use your persona to befriend others and enter new social circles. You can do this through: - Social media; follow similar accounts to yours and interact with them. - Activities related to your persona; Let’s say you adopted the “The Luxurious Diamond” persona and started visiting wineries. You may notice when you go that there are regulars; identify the regulars and use your common interest of wine to strike a conversation. -Interest groups; join clubs/groups that help you reach your goals. For example, “The Traveler” may have always wanted to travel to Bali, but didn’t want to go alone. She joins a travel group to meet other likeminded inviduals and meets a travel buddy. This person ends up introducing her to others who also enjoy traveling.

✨ Be a Chameleon. You should  never be set on just one persona. Like I said earlier, your persona should always be malleable. You should be able to change yourself to your benefit, and always be open to expansion. When it comes to dating, a man may “want” a certain type of woman, but the secret is that most men just want a woman who is open to possibilities.  I remember a man who used to be on my roster who loved music. This man was always insisting on taking me to operas and symphonies. And he too was a musician (I really don’t like dating musicians, but that’s a topic for another day), so whenever he was performing he would have me sitting in the box so I’d have an “undisturbed” experience.  Now ladies, I’m not into music AT ALL.  But I was open and willing, and guess what? The man adored it, and he adored me even more! He spoiled me like crazy and would serenade me with music he wrote about me because I was his “muse”. Although I ended up ghosting him, I definitely appreciate a good opera now! 

✨Be Larger than Life to Entice. The attractive part about these personas is the fact that it feels almost fake. The image that is portrayed is almost mythical, like something out of a fantasy. You can’t believe this girl is traveling so much, or you can’t believe this girl still has a social life in the middle of a pandemic! It’s unbelievable, but that’s what makes us so intrigued. Men especially love fantasy. That’s why many men have a “dream girl”, a woman that embodies their physical and emotional fantasies. They love the impossible. It’s also important to remember that you are always being watched. People see you, whether in person or on social media, and when they see someone or something more interesting than their mundane life, curiosity will get the best of them. They’ll be drawn to you and want to know you.

✨ The Persona Advantage. Creating a persona is supposed to help your journey. The purpose is to reinvent yourself into someone who will help you better navigate your hypergamous life.  For example, if you are trying to get into more exclusive, affluent circles, creating a persona who is skilled in social and dining etiquette would be more beneficial than a persona that’s an Instagram Influencer. Being an Instagram Baddie that wears Fashion Nova won’t help you at a Charity Gala. So be sure to think of what you desire in life to shape yourself into that. Don’t just become someone who won’t get you to where you want to be. 

This post will definitely have a Part 2 in the future, but in conclusion: You can be whoever you want to be as long as you play the role. Be an actress in your own life, and live the life you desire.

Well ladies, I’ll be away for Valentine’s day weekend. Wishing you all a wonderful and safe weekend ❤️ Lots of love.

Follow my IG for more: @mademoisellehypergamy

[afro-elf]

fine, i’ll elaborate on my thoughts about tylor sift but they will be disorganized

disclaimer: i know a few people will read this and be like “op is a hozier fan can she really talk about the cultural obsession with mediocre white art?” and the answer is yes because a) i’m black and i have an english degree so can do whatever i fucking want, b) hozier is a better artist than taylor objectively, like his mediocre tracks would be considered her great ones, and c) the comparison of taylor to hozier is part of the problem Genuinely because i don’t even think white people like half the music they listen to, they just don’t wanna be left behind, we’ll get into this later. i’m sorry to everyone who is tired of hearing about him but hozier will be returning later in this post jsfglsjlgldsjlfd

second note: read this

i don’t just dislike taylor because she’s white. i don’t dislike taylor because she’s a woman. i don’t dislike her because she writes mean and petty lyrics about past relationships and people who wronged her. i don’t dislike taylor because her public circle of friends is almost exclusively blonde white celebrities with their own laundry lists of issues that includes ryan reynolds and blake lively who are poster children for white privilege and pseudo-excellence if i’ve ever seen them. i dislike taylor because the amalgamation of all of those things is so exemplary of a huge problem i have with the music industry in general but also like american society

fuck it, numbered list!

1. taylor swift consistently releases the same mediocre album but in different colors. every album is the same lyrically and tonally. her body of work rarely goes very far above “good for taylor swift”. folklore as both title and musical aesthetic is irrelevant to the actual content of the album, which is just every taylor swift album except set to folk pop and with a bit more cussing, congrats for baby’s first swear. i’ve seen folklore compared to much better bodies of work and even propped up by stans as album of the year, a distinction that rina sawayama and chloe x halle will be battling it out for if there is any justice in the world at all. the fact that she is allowed to do this and still be considered great when this is something that even white male artists are butchered critically for... astounds me. like we all know how well received all of coldplay’s similar sounding albums are.... Come on. 

2. i don’t think taylor or her work is particularly feminist and yet for some reason every time she frowns an army of white women brings her kleenex. i’m not saying taylor’s anger has always been unjustified, but her feminism to me has always felt like “i can do whatever a man can do” feminism, which is utterly fucking useless to me as a black woman. it’s only useful to her because as a wealthy, white, straight, cis white woman her ONLY obstacle in life is her gender. and if she just didn’t have that tricky little bitch then maybe people would take her seriously. like, just think about her music video for the man... what was the thesis of that? what was the point of that? with all of her privileges she’d just be gaining a single extra privilege. she’s a blonde blue eyed thin white girl, the world kisses her feet. i have no interest in proving myself any better or any worse than white men, they are not the standard for how a person should be treated, they’re cautionary tales, and white women are too. i think taylor capitalizes off of white woman victimhood, and it’s all over her writing style. even when she’s trying to be empowered, like in mad woman for example, there is this tone to it of victimization, poking the bear, unleashing the beast if you will. she invokes the imagery of salem witches and even more boldly chooses a noose to write about in the song which is..... surely going to be a white tumblr staple for many gifsets to come but holy shit is it hollow. she also tends to come back to teenage memories in her music and she’s thirty. i don’t think about being seventeen unless i’m being held at gunpoint but she seems to think about it All The Time. and part of this is to keep herself young, at least in her music, which only further ingrains this image of fragile teeny bopper taylor into the mind of the listener, fueling her victim image. this imagery and language means nothing because the world always rallies around taylor. even when she was the butt of jokes for not being beyonce (which she is not and never can be) and writing about her exes (which she does), she was largely supported by the industry and by critics. look at how many fucking awards she has!

3. folk and indie and alternative music is in a moment of transition, where musicians of color are getting the chance to really speak about how they’ve been treated in these overwhelmingly white circles and create their own standards and their own voices. and for taylor swift to swoop in with aaron dessner and jack antonoff fantano and almost reassert that mid-2010s indie sound as The Sound of folk pop in the popular consciousness.... it makes me violent! it! makes! me! violent! 

4. back to hozier! finally, i wanna talk about white standom, fandom, bandom, and womandom. i often see these very superficial comparisons between hozier and taylor (and hozier and florence and hozier and stevie nicks and hozier and whatever other white woman in fashion) and they frustrate me for more than one reason. i know that hozier has met taylor and said she’s cool, which is nice of him and he’s a nice man, but i’m not a nice man so i’m going to just say it: none of the people who have made those posts have listened to more than four hozier songs and it shows. the reason why this matters is because these posts catch on and create an image and preconception of hozier’s music that is divorced from reality and divorced from his influences and most importantly divorced from the deliberate and reverent blackness of his musical style. hozier has his white male privilege in the industry for sure but he’s not as towering of a giant as taylor and taylor’s music is an unsalted chicken, plain oatmeal, white paint drying on a white wall, a stick of unflavored gum. her music is so white it told me that its dad is a cop. i am, as a black hozier fan, exhausted with having to share space with white women who don’t know why hozier’s music kicks me in my lungs sometimes and think that taylor mentioning a tree ONCE in her 3 minute acoustic guitar slog about whatever suburb is the same when it simply is not. i swear some of you are pretending to love taylor because your friends love her and you don’t wanna be left out of the hot new musical discourse but she’s only the hot new musical discourse CONSTANTLY because she’s a white woman, she’s almost the Perfect white woman. like if someone asked me to describe a white woman, it would be taylor swift. her position at the top of the musical pyramid among people who eclipse her musically, vocally, and lyrically is only allowed because she’s The Perfect White Woman. she’s an ideal. white girls relate to her immediately because of it and now we have this unshakable mob of unbearable white women who think that the world has wronged someone who literally wrote fanfiction about the rich oil heiress white woman who owned her rhode island mansion before her aklghlghdhlgs it drives me fucking NUTS 

anyway that’s all. if you made it this far, listen to adia victoria, kaia kater, samantha crain, valerie june, kelsey lu, corinne bailey rae, brittany howard, kimya dawson, japanese breakfast, cold specks, left at london, rhiannon giddens, aisha badru, shea diamond, nadine shah, xenia rubinos, karen o, mirel wagner.... Anyone

[mimi-cee-hq]

Laundry Days - Aran x f!reader

Summary: Three times you picked up his underwear and one time you missed doing it.

Genres, other tags: fluff, slice of life, humour, meet cute, domestic fluff, not suggestive lol, married under 25, neighbours to married lovers ;)

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: manga spoiler

This is for @neoheros & @coophi's 2021 Summer Haikyuu!! Writing contest. (Okay I'm pretty shy at first so it feels a little scary to tag you two but here's my piece.) I was going for the married under 25 prompt but ended up doing neighbours to lovers too. :D

Don't mind me spreading the underrated characters agenda as well. lol.

*****

A few articles of clothing spilled out of the dryer and onto your feet. Oops. Your neighbour must have forgotten them. You should've checked first.

Your own damp clothes sat inside the washing machine next to it, waiting for their turn to enter the dryer. It wasn't possible now.

You sighed, retrieving the phone from your pocket and scrolling until you saw the name of the neighbour who lived a floor below you.

Ojiro Aran.

You were sure this was the right person after a second look at your texting history. Who'd bring the garbage to the curb, where the lawnmower was kept, and keeping the duplex's stairway clear were some of the conversations you had with him.

You had yet to meet the guy, but he seemed amicable enough.

After shooting him a text, you thought to give him a call instead. Perhaps he'd think a phone call was strange. However, your clothes were damp and you shouldn't leave them for long. Was he even home?

You sighed. Crouched down, you returned the clothes on the floor back into the machine. A scarf, several socks, and a knit hat made their way back inside. But what was this?

Underwear. Men's underwear.

You scrunched your nose as you lifted it from the cold, tile floor. Was that a hole in it?

Click.

"Sorry I just saw your text!" a tall, dark-skinned man blurted out as soon as the door was unlocked.

"Oh! It's alright! I only texted you a few minutes ago!" you quickly explained, waving your hands in front of you.

You shouldn't have done that. The underwear was hanging from your hand.

"Ummm…" Aran scratched his cheek, eyes retreating from you.

"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry!" you spat out, tossing the incriminating object to him. "It just fell out of the dryer when I opened it so I went to pick it up!"

Once in his hands, he recognized it as the one with the seam coming undone. "I… umm… should probably have thrown this one out."

"Umm… yeah… you probably should." Those words slipped off your tongue before you could catch them.

"I- I guess I'll go now," Aran said hastily.

He shut the door.

You let out a breath. That was awkward. Heat continued to linger in your body and you weren't sure who was more embarrassed by the encounter.

Wait. His clothes were still in the dryer. Did you dare ask him back?

The door slowly creaked open and Aran peeked his head into the room.

"I forgot something, didn't I?" Aran sheepishly asked.

"Yeah." The corners of your mouth lifted into a smile. "Yeah, you did."

"I'm Aran by the way."

"Y/n."

You never thought this would be how you'd meet your future husband.

*****

The office chair in your apartment was a comfortable spot for folding clothes. The webcam caught your face as you chatted with Aran whose image filled the monitor.

You smiled. Your husband was winding down after a long day with the team and decided to check up on you.

"I'm alright," you told Aran. "I miss you though."

"I literally just saw you yesterday!" he said. "I miss you too."

After that fateful yet awkward encounter with him in that laundry room two years ago, you had run into each other more frequently at the front doors of your duplex. Your classes ended at similar times four out of your five school days. You were surprised he even started a conversation with you. You wouldn't have been able to bear the embarrassment. Fast forward to a confession, a kiss and a rock-embedded ring, and you got a small, snowy wedding during winter break.

It was back to the books for you now, and you dreaded it. Chores seemed much better, easier. Plus doing them for your newly-wedded husband? You got giddy about that.

You quirked your brow, lifting a familiar piece of clothing from the basket.

"Hey, I thought you threw this one out," you mentioned to Aran, dangling his underwear in front of the camera.

"I did! That's, uh, probably a different one."

"Just how old are these?"

"Hey! Wait a moment! Are you folding clothes?"

You avoided the eyes on the screen. "Maybe."

"You have your paper due in a few days! I told you I was going to do it after flying back home."

"I know…"

Aran's eyes narrowed at you, a trademark expression of his. "You're procrastinating again, aren't you?" His tone implied disapproval.

"But I'm still being productive!"

"Y/n…"

"Okay, okay. I'll stop." Your foot pushed the basket away, sliding it across the floor. Maybe you could fold them after you hung up.

Aran must have read your mind. "Show me what the laundry bin looks like."

You groaned. He saw right through you. Complying, you removed the clipped webcam off the monitor and directed it at the pile of unfolded clothes.

"It better be like that when I get home."

"Alright," you said with a pout.

"Love you."

"Love you too."

Must he stop you from doing chores? They were a simple reminder you were married to him, as if the gold on your finger wasn't enough to show you.

You were his wife.

A smile snuck into your lips whenever that thought crossed your mind. The honeymoon phase was a peculiar, strange, lovely stage.

Yet it was fleeting.

*****

You groaned as you stood in the middle of the bathroom. Aran's white track pants hung off the counter, the red t-shirt he got for free from first year college laid on top, and of course his underwear, which likely went through hundreds of washes, remained on the floor.

Great.

You rubbed your temples, your headache getting worse by the minute. It was Saturday morning, and Aran, who was nowhere to be seen, had left his mess behind.

I'll clean it up later, he would tell you. You knew his mother had spoiled him, always picking up after him. You understood why he was like this, but why couldn't he just start doing it now?

"Do you have this problem?" you asked your friend through your wireless headset.

"What problem?" she asked.

"Does your husband always leave laundry around on the floor?" You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Aran never picks up after himself."

She laughed. You weren't sure if it was because you were a young, amateur wife or if she understood all too well.

Knowing her, probably a bit of both.

"Okay two things."

You listened.

"One, don't say always or never. That's lying."

"I'm not lying," you snapped back at her. You began to regret asking her.

"Are you sure he never picks it up and always leaves it on the floor?"

You left no comment.

"Exactly."

"Okay fine, but that still doesn't solve the problem. If only he just did it, it would solve everything–"

"Number two," she interrupted.

You groaned at her and she gave an amused snort in return.

"If you weren't picking up his underwear, it means he's dead."

You were aghast.

"You know I'm right."

Still aghast.

"What? No husband, no mess."

"I can't believe I asked you for advice."

"But it's true."

"Ugh," was all you could utter. She had several years more of marriage experience than you, yet you didn't want to acknowledge it.

You hung up the phone after you finished deciding today's outing with her, but you hadn't addressed the issue in front of you. Your head throbbed again.

Sighing, you picked up the underwear.

A few minutes later, the front door opened and you dipped your head into the hallway. Aran shuffled grocery bags through the door and into the kitchen. He yawned, placing the milk, eggs, and other items into the fridge.

A familiar coffee brand peeked out of a bag on the floor. Right. You didn't have your coffee yet because there wasn't any left.

You wrapped your arms around Aran and relaxed against his broad back.

"I can't put the food away like this," he said with a chuckle.

"You left your clothes in the bathroom again."

"Oh shoot!" He dropped a bag and started towards the bathroom but you tightened your grip on him.

"I put them away already," you told him. His body relaxed and he caressed your arm around his waist.

The honeymoon phase was a fleeting phase, novel tasks turned mundane, but your love for him grew deeper still.

*****

Aran was away again, this time at Tokyo in preparation for the Olympics. He eagerly called you during breaks, wishing to see his favourite person – although your hands were full as well.

"I miss you," he told you, his smile displayed on the screen.

"And I miss picking up your underwear," you told him with a smirk.

Like clockwork, he narrowed his eyes at you with a comeback. "Why don't you say you miss me like a normal person?"

"Because I'm your wife. I'm special," you told him as he rolled his eyes. "I wish I could be there though."

"You wouldn't be able to spend that much time with me anyway," he said. "Besides, one of us needs to stay home."

"I know." You smiled.

"I gotta go," he said as Atsumu yelled in the background. Aran blew a kiss at you.

You snorted. How cheesy. You returned the kiss anyway.

Hearing a mischievous squeal behind you, you told him, "I gotta go too."

"Love you."

"Love you too."

After you hung up, you turned around and sighed. A soggy wet diaper sagged on the floor and the little guy jumping in the crib giggled at you as if he did the funniest thing in the world.

You rolled your eyes and smiled before picking up the diaper.

"Alright kid. Let's put a diaper back on you and wash your sheets."

*****

I hope you liked it. This is a little different from what I usually write but I hope you still enjoyed it!

I blame Aran's current concern for giving me this idea along with the person who suggested I write Aran fluff. (As well as the seasoned wife I know who told her husband, "If I wasn't picking up your underwear, it means you're dead." lolll.)

I hope you stick around my blog to check out my other works! My current work in progress is a fake dating Suna series. I can't believe we're on chapter 10!

If anyone is interested, I have a Google form for my taglist.

[thefanficmonster]

Filterless

Corpse Husband x Plus-sized Reader (Female)

Warnings: Body Image Insecurities, Low self-esteem, Swearing

Genre:  Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Feeling comfortable in her skin has hardly ever been the case for Y/N who’s been struggling with body image issues all her life. However, they only get worse when she sees the ‘type’ of girls her crush is into.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your request (hits close to home 😅) I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to fulfill it and post it but here it finally is and if you’ve stuck around long enough to read it, I hope you enjoy! ALSO! - Never forget how beautiful and amazing you are. Never compare your beauty to someone else’s. We’re all beautiful people and we all shine so brightly and uniquely. No one deserves to be compared to anyone when we’re all so different yet so incredible. Love you and appreciate you with all my heart, Vy ❤

If I ever need my ego taken down a few notches - it never does, it’s barely even present, to be honest - all I have to do is go on Instagram. To be honest, regardless of how I’m feeling, opening that app is bound to make my mood plummet and come crashing into the ground so hard it drives a hole in it - probably in the form of a broken heart.

Being a content creator myself, I often get asked questions about my absence on that social platform specifically. I mean, the questions are based and rational I guess, considering I’m not a faceless YouTuber and yet my Instagram account is void of any photos. It’s not like I don’t post at all - I do! I post on my story often but it’s more often than not scenery I find pretty or a poster I’ve made for a movie/video game. Bottom line is: I barely ever allow a picture of me to make it online. The most my fans are ever gonna get of me is a selfie which is also a super rare occurrence because of how long it takes me to take and choose one I don’t hate.

Ok, but how am I supposed to find the motivation to post any sort of picture of myself when on my timeline I’m always faced with people worthy of posting pictures of themselves. People with such perfect bodies and beautiful faces. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not jealous or envious of those people - good for them! They know what they’re working with and they’re working it well. I have nothing against them, in fact, I love seeing people proud of their bodies no matter their size, shape or weight. Those are my role-models: people who are proud of themselves, their bodies, their attributes and capabilities and don’t hesitate to show them off. Those are the people I look up to but, deep down inside I know I’ll never be like.

Insecure about my body, having been referred to as ‘chubby’ and ‘squishy’ all my life. Inappreciative of the stuff I do: starting from my job as a graphic designer leading towards my job on YouTube - nothing I do, professionally or otherwise, satisfies me. Nothing I do is enough in my eyes because I feel incapable of ever being able to do enough. I’ve been called lazy and a half-asser a few too many times to be able to brush it off as a meaningless insult. 

With these problems I’ve had with myself and my own perception of who I am and the work I do, I’ve never had the time for romance or romantic relationships. I second-guess the intentions of everyone who ever shows any interest in me because in my mind I’m nothing special and I have nothing to offer - nothing attractive or likable at least. That being said, I haven’t even been one to make heart eyes at others either. I busy myself with my job and some side-gigs, brushing off any relationship questions with the excuse that I’m ‘just too busy to be in a relationship’ which is technically true.

Having spent twenty plus years with that mindset, one can imagine how surprised I was when I found myself catching feelings for someone. And that someone just couldn’t be any other than the biggest YouTube sensation at the moment - Corpse Husband.

I’m close friends with Poki - her and I were roommates at one point too - so her inviting me to play Among Us with them wasn’t so strange. One or two games, I thought, nothing unusual there, just friendly curtesy. I wasn’t expecting to warm up to the group of famous streamers nor did I expect them to welcome me among them so easily, mostly because my channel is so small and practically invisible to the YouTube algorithm. But soon enough, I became a permanent member of the team, making friends with every single one of those YouTubers I practically thought of a celebrities.

This journey of branching out to other content creators has proven itself to be surprisingly pleasant and has packed my book of friendships to the brim. All of that came unexpectedly, along with a wave of new subs and a higher view count. However, as I mentioned, it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. I came to finally understand what my high school friends were talking about when they were head over heels for a boy - the butterflies in the stomach whenever he speaks your name; the importance of the laugh you share with him, how special and different it is; how cool it is to be impostors with him - ok they never said that, obviously, but it’s what I have as a substitute to the ‘when the two of you make eye-contact’ bullshit since Corpse and I have never seen each other in person. That is, of course, because of him being a faceless YouTuber and me being a self-conscious and insecure girl.

We do talk all the time though - texting, calling, chilling on Discord, you name it. Our conversations range from deeply philosophical to ones that might mislead someone into thinking we’re high. There’s no topic we haven’t touched upon and yet we still manage to find something new to talk about. We have plenty of similarities but we also never seem to run out of differences we slowly come across as we keep getting to know each other better and better. 

And somewhere along that journey I ended up catching feelings.

Human nature of wanting to connect with other people, I curse you for what you’ve done to me.

You might think I’m being overdramatic about the whole ordeal and that this is just a normal, natural occurrence many people experience in their life - some even daily. Well, not only am I far from used to it, but it’s also taking a toll of a different kind on me.

It’s like a constant slap to the face. 

That slap turned into a punch when Corpse and I started following each other on Instagram and I started getting daily reminders of how out of my depth I am with this crush on him. In over my head, especially when you look at all those girls whose pics and videos he reposts on his story. Imagine how that makes me feel, what that does to me - puts me back into the ‘Constantly not good enough‘ basket, the one I’ve been fighting to get out of all my life. In the past and in different contexts I could easily say that it was all just my mind hating me intensely but now - now that I know for a fact I’m not good enough and don’t fit Corpse’s criteria - it hurts ten times as much. I’m not one to do shit for someone’s attention or to attract someone’s eyes, but it really hurts my feelings. Often times, it also leads me to doing dumb things and making rash decisions. 

Like the one I made two days ago.

Imagine me cringing and shaking my head at my own stupidity as I admit this: I, in a frenzy, ordered a whole e-girl getup with overnight delivery. 

Wait, hold up, it gets worse. 

I received it yesterday and spent the whole day regretting that decision, but then, in my most insecure hours - which was somewhere around midnight - I equipped the get-up, took a picture and posted it on my Instagram page. First full body pic I’ve ever posted on there. First pic I’ve posted there of any kind. There to stay, not to be gone in twenty four hours. First pic, and it’s not even of me. It’s of who I want to be in order to fit someone’s criteria. And that fucking stings.

As you might imagine, I’ve spent today’s day regretting that decision as well. Recently my mood’s been nothing but regretting rash decisions that have surfaced under the influence of my ridiculous, constantly-present insecurities. And I would’ve probably gotten over it rather quickly had I not received a message from Corpse that read:

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic“

I didn’t open the message, I peeped at it as it was a notification on my lock screen. It’s still there, an unread notification. It’s been two hours since I received it and I cannot think of a single thing to say in response to that. 

Truth is, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of so many things right now.

I’m afraid of becoming that girl in the photo, cause I’m most definitely not her.

I’m afraid of letting Corpse down by admitting I’m not her.

I’m afraid of what my own mind has made me do because it hates me so much and I’m terrified of what it might do in the future.

I’m afraid and stranded on things to do.

You can’t be her forever, you know. Being her won’t make your insecurities go away, it’ll only make them worse. Haven’t you learned that by now?

I sigh, frustrated and irritated with myself as I grab my phone and tap on the notification, finally deciding to face the music and allow my instincts to carry me through the interaction. Improvisation, that’s one of the few things I’m good at. Let’s hope it doesn’t fail me.

I’m just about to type out my response - not sure what it’s gonna say - when I give the message Corpse has sent me a second glance.  I furrow my brows, finding there’s more to it than that peep through the notification let me see.

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic. You’re personality is so bright and colorful, I could’ve never imagined you were into the darks and blacks“

Because I’m not

I fail to realize until the message has been sent that my thoughts are exactly what I typed out and sent.

And honestly, I’m glad. It feels like I’ve spoken my truth, like I’ve lifted a huge boulder off my chest.

With that rare confidence in mind I go on and delete the picture.

In its spot, I post a picture I just now took - a mirror selfie in my homey get-up consisting of hot pink sweatpants and an oversized blue tee, my hair in a messy bun, my face free of make-up.

I caption it: ‘Oops, had the e-girl filter on for the last one. This is filterless me tho so...Hi 🥴’

A lot better, I’m surprised to hear my inner voice say. I hope I don’t get used to all this kindness on my brain’s part, probably won’t last, but damn if I don’t milk every second of it.

Just then, I receive a new message from non other than Corpse.

“Now that’s the girl I see when I think of you. She’s super cute 😉“

My, oh my, who would’ve guessed Corpse has a game like that - and by that I mean the ability to make me blush so intensely with only a text message.

Now ain’t that better than being someone else, Y/N?

It sure is, it sure is.

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[arvinsescape]

Fight the good fight

Summary: You’re doing an interview for an upcoming movie and get treated with less respect than your male co-stars and they aren’t having it.

W/C: 1.9K

Warnings: Mentions of stress eating and struggles with food.

A/N: Please note that i have in no way intended for this to come across in a negative way in terms of weight. I have struggled personally with stress eating and i understand the unhealthy relationship that you have with food in the end and that is what i am talking about. I think everyone is beautiful, no matter what size or shape you may be, it’s what’s on the inside that counts!

You’d been in the spotlight for a long time. You’d started your acting career at the age of seven and had a really successful career. You were 23 now and had naturally moved into more adult themed films. You’d been really lucky to be cast alongside Tom Holland and Timothée Chalamet in an upcoming thriller. You were playing Holland’s love interest who ends up getting stalked by Chalamet’s character. You were really lucky that you got on so well with the two, the theme of the film could be quite difficult, and it was good to be able to have a laugh with your co-stars afterwards. During filming you’d developed a special relationship with Tom, you’d had to do a lot of scenes together that required the two of you to spend a lot of time with each other and getting to know each other inside and out. You’d gotten closer and naturally a real-life love relationship happened.

You were doing press with your co-stars and you’d been in interviews all day. To say you were tired would be putting it lightly. The day hadn’t gone so bad, some interviews better than others. You’d gathered this as soon as you turned 18, the questions shifted from being about the film to being about you and tended to be quite sexist in nature. You’d learned to deal with it over the years and some interviewers weren’t so bad, you’d not put up with it too much today. You were hoping that this final interview would run smoothly, and you could get into bed, cuddle up with Tom and sleep the night away.

“I can’t wait for this last interview; I love my job, but press can be so tiring!” Timothée said as he stretched his arms over his head and yawned. You were all sat in position, waiting for the interview to start, you were situated in the middle of them.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to get back to my hotel room.” You agreed.

“Do you guys wanna borrow some of my energy, I have loads spare.” Tom laughed; he was always the more energised of the three of you. This pulled a laugh from both of you as the interviewer started. He seemed nice enough, but you’d been sat there almost five minutes before he actually addressed you.

“So Y/N? How did you find getting to play alongside Tom Holland and Timothée Chalamet?” Here we go. Although you didn’t mind answering questions like this and they were quite tame in comparison to some questions, it was more the fact that at this point both Tom and Timothée had been asked more direct questions about their parts in the film and you hadn’t. You hoped this wasn’t going to go in the direction you thought it was.

“Yeah, it was amazing! They are both lovely guys, it was an honour.” You answered in a polite manner. Maybe you were tired and read too much into the question.

“So did you diet for the film Y/N?”

“Not really.” You laughed, not entirely sure were this was going.

“Did you work out at all?” Again, where was this going?

“Not really. Not more than I usually do.”

“Well I just thought maybe you had been doing. Your legs looked great!” Here we go. You cleared your throat before you answered.

“Is that what you took away from watching it?” You teased, trying to keep the interview light-hearted.

“Well no. But it certainly was a standout feature of yours.” The interviewer laughed. Tom and Timothée didn’t, they knew how much questions like this annoyed you and it made them feel uncomfortable. You were here to promote a movie.

“I’ll remember that for my next film. When the director says he’ll pay a load of money for a dialect coach, I’ll just tell them not to bother. People will be more interested in my legs than my acting!” You answered in a jokey manner, this pulled a laugh from your two male co-stars.

“No no! I mean your acting was amazing Y/N, don’t get me wrong! But I feel like a good body deserves a compliment, that’s all!” The interviewer tried to joke, this made you uncomfortable.

“Timothée your acting was amazing but maybe you should have worked out more with me, your arms looked smaller than mine.” Tom joked as he too tried to shift the attention away from talks of your body. Timothée quickly catching on as he feigned upset before laughing and flexing his arm.

“You wish Tom, you wish.”

The interview continued on and whilst you got no direct questions about your acting or your role the attention wasn’t on you or your body. Until it was.

“So Y/N? You’re 23 now, right? Have you thought about having a family?” You groaned at the question.

“Yeah, I want a family but when the time feels right.”

“Of course! You wouldn’t want to prematurely end your career I suppose?”

“Why would that end my career. Loads of actors have children and carry on acting.” You fired back. You really hated this question because you could guarantee that if either of the boys were asked this question, it would not be followed up with insinuations that it would be career ending.

“Well not many women.”

“If you believe that, I’ll assume you’ve not done much research.” You shot back. You were visibly annoyed now, which didn’t go unnoticed by the males either side of you.

“I don’t think Y/N has to answer that! She answered your question about a family so maybe we should leave it at that, yeah? It’s Y/N’s life and I think she should be left to live it as she wants.” Timothée defended you. The interviewer shrugged but left it at that. Tom had tensed slightly at the exchange but ultimately kept quiet. That wouldn’t last long as the interviewer brought up his next question.

“Y/N? You have had a struggle with food I’ve read?” The question threw you off guard, yes, you’d recently been open about your battle with stress eating and your unhealthy relationship with food, but you weren’t prepared for the question. Usually you were prepared beforehand, and the interviewer would tell you if they were bringing it up, it was sort of a requirement of yours. You glanced at your manager off screen who looked as shocked as you felt.

“I’m sorry I don’t understand the question. It’s not relevant to the film that I’m here promoting.” You answered carefully.

“No, no of course but you seem to be doing better now than you were a few years ago.” He pushed. Tom tensed further, he knew about your past struggles, and how much talking about it unprepared upset you. “There was a period of time where you were quite big.”

“Erm. I’m really sorry but do you have any questions about the film? I’m not comfortable talking about this.” You shuffled uncomfortably in your seat, Tom’s hand shot out to your thigh in comfort, he knew you were getting anxious.

“I was just wondering if you had a problem with that part of your life. You know being bigger?”

“Listen. It’s not that at all. I have no issue with people’s weight, if that’s where you’re trying to go. I’ve talked about this and I absolutely believe that people should be whatever size makes them happy, we are all beautiful just as we are, and I genuinely believe that. What I talked about is the dangers and struggles I had with food. Yes, I was bigger, but my issue was not with my weight, it was with my unhealthy relationship with food and what I was doing to myself through that.” You answered, you felt frustrated, uncomfortable and you were beyond tired now, just wanting to get out of the interview. You took a deep breath before you spoke. “Look, can we just move away from this?” You pleaded.

The interviewer threw his hands up in defence. “Alright, alright. I was just asking.”

“You weren’t, though were you?” Tom’s voice startled all of you. “You were trying to make it sound like she has an issue with bigger people, which as she has spoken about extensively, she doesn’t. You were pushing her into answering a question she didn’t want to answer. You brought her weight up for no plausible reason, I think it’s you who has the problem with bigger people, if I’m being honest. So what she was bigger? She looked as beautiful then as she does now, as all women do. It’s because of people like you that women struggle with body image and it’s not fair, it has to stop.” Tom ranted as his face went red, he was annoyed you could tell that much. Your heart soared that he was defending not just you, but all women.

“You have been consistently rude to her. I don’t think I’ve heard a single question directed at her that was to do with the film. I hate that men like you think it’s okay to ask women these sorts of questions. You commented on her diet and working out as well as her intentions for a family and if it would harm her career. Why? I’ll tell you why. It’s because she’s a woman and you think it’s okay, you seem to think that she doesn’t deserve the respect of being asked the same questions that men do. It’s not right and it needs to stop, she has worked just as hard as us to make sure this film is as good as it can be and she deserves the respect, as all women do.” He finished as he grabbed your hand, stood up and left the interview. You in tow, completely in awe of him.

“Yeah man. Do better.” Timothée said as he followed, leaving the interviewer shocked and humiliated.

Tom took you backstage. He dropped your hand and took a deep breath before turning around to face you.

“I’m sorry I jumped in like that. It’s not that I don’t think you can handle it, I’m just so sick of men like him. I know that you can handle people like that, but you shouldn’t have to and that was the point I was trying to make I guess.” He sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It’s alright. I’m happy you did. Thank you. it’s nice to know that women don’t have to fight this fight alone and yes, I could’ve handled it but in a way I’m glad it annoys you as much as it does me. I think it will be important for the younger women in your fan base to know that you stick up for women and hold them equal to men. It’s an important message.” You said as you hugged him and kissed his chest. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“It just makes me sad that you have to put up with this kind of thing.”

“I know. But hopefully we can make a change. We need to keep fighting the good fight.”

You stayed like that for a while before pulling apart and making your way back to your hotel room. It’d been a long day, but you were glad you had your co-stars there to defend you. Glad to finally be snuggled up in bed with Tom.

[blindbeta]

I just saw someone asked about making a character blind in their novel and you responded about ways to avoid it being portrayed poorly. I wanted to ask, could it also help if part of the arc is the character accepting becoming blind?

Like, even if it happens in some kind of accident, or like them becoming blinded as a sacrifice for the team, would it be a bad portrayal for part of the character's story to be realizing it's not the end of the world, that being disabled doesn't make them completely useless, etc?

Or is that sort of arc also ableist?

[Note: I used the words non-disabled and abled interchangeably here. Both refer to people with no disabilities. After a conversation with some of my followers, I decided to make an effort to be clearer about who I referred to when I used words like able-bodied, because able-bodied may, for some people, refer to people without physical disabilities or without any disabilities at all. There are times when the distinction matters, even when people said they can usually tell based on context whether or not able-bodied is meant to include them.]

Writing About A Character Accepting Being Blind After Going Blind - When You Aren’t Blind Yourself

An arc about a character accepting becoming blind doesn’t feel good to me and I’ll try to explain why.

I’d rather read a story about a character who happens to be blind, in whatever way that happened, than read a story where a writer who isn’t blind tries to write about a blind character accepting being blind. I just finished a similar book and it did not go well. There are some things that research cannot teach you. There are some stories that aren’t yours to tell.

I don’t want to read about a non-blind author, especially a non-disabled author, writing negative things about my disability.

A character starting out feeling overly negative toward their blindness already feels bad to me. Why? Because the author has to write negative, sometimes completely wrong things about being blind. When I read stories like this, I am bombarded with stereotypes or myths which are rarely corrected by the narrator, who is usually traumatized and somewhat isolated as they heal. Many of the things they think or say are not checked or revisited. Mean things other characters say or think about them are often internalized by the narrator. Things that, in real life, are said to blind and otherwise disabled people as truths. As tough-love. As part of the supposed -Real World-. As bullying. As ignorant, innocent questions. As rude comments.

All of these things are not even coming from a personal place. The author writing these things- while they probably don’t agree with them, of course- is still not blind at the end of the day.

Readers who aren’t blind may not understand the nuance of why some of the things they read were ableist if it isn’t called out in the narrative in some way, which can sometimes happen when the narrator says something negative about their new disability. This isn’t to say readers shouldn’t do their own research or examine the story more closely. This isn’t to say the author is at fault for the interpretations of readers who refuse to think beyond what is laid out for them. When I say this, I am being realistic. Not all readers are going to be proactive. Not all readers are going to approach a book about a person going blind from a good place.

Most of the time, this is just something the author needs to accept. It is impossible to anticipate the strange interpretations of every reader. However, this narrative can be dangerous to a reader who has never met a blind person. Keep in mind, most people aren’t doing what you all are doing. They just read what is given to them. And if what is given to them is a helpless or self-loathing blind person, they might believe in that image. That book may be the only expirience they have with a blind person and they may not read any other books with blind characters.

Another thing I thought of was that non-blind authors sometimes don’t understand how hobbies and skills translate to blind people. For example, in a story I read once, a character who was going blind practiced playing piano and typing on a keyboard blindfolded so they could learn how to do without sight. However, blind people can already play instruments even if they were born blind. Blind people can also easily type on regular keyboards and, technically, correct keyboard technique means typing without needing to look at the keyboard.

Authors who don’t understand what it is like to go blind often don’t get the nuances of what that person is losing and not losing. And it often shows. They also don’t often include the aspects of blindness that are actually challenging. Why focus your worry on typing on a keyboard when you can learn how to use assistive devices in the kitchen or learn to cope with anxiety you anticipate will get worse after losing vision? Why not try to find accessible copies of books you have or scan or Braille sentimental letters? Why not organize your closet so you can find things more easily?

Obviously this is related to characters who know they’re going blind, though.

It favors non-disabled readers, which is ableist.

Another reason this type of story bothers me is because it is so common. Or at least people expect it. This type of story is one abled / non-disabled people can swallow and feel inspired by. Showing the blind person accepting their blindness also favors non-disabled readers in ways I may not be able to articulate well.

Accepting disability is an arc non-disabled people are comfortable with. It is a feel-good type of story that usually doesn’t challenge people too much, other than to remind them not to bully people. Already, this story is not even for disabled people, or in this case, blind people. It exists to introduce people who aren’t blind to the idea of becoming blind, to blind technology, to inspirational ideas about how blind people actually can do things. Stories like this guide abled people along and prioritize their ideas about blindness. Because the narrator is almost always previously abled, the story is about adjusting to blindness in a way that caters to non-disabled people.

How does a story with this angle benefit blind readers? Even if a blind person has also recently gone blind and wants to see a character who on that journey with them, what can a writer who isn’t blind say that blind writer couldn’t say? Or say better? Or say with more power? With more nuancel? With more personal experience?

And it may seem like saying this arc is ableist is too much. Keep in mind, ableism isn’t just about being rude to or excluding disabled people. Ableism favors those who are able-bodied or neurotypical over those who are not. It favors those who are not disabled over those who are. This story is just another way of doing that. Often, people are ableist through what they consider kindnes. Authors are not exempt from that.

Disabled authors should tell their own stories

This is where I will get some pushback. (I already received some here if you think it will be helpful to know what this is like.)

There are a few parts to this.

First, I want everyone to know I am not telling you what not to write or that this type of story, at least with elements of this narrative, can never be done well. However, the more care you take when writing it and the more you know about why it can be ableist, the better you will be able to write it. I’m still not sure I would want to read a book that is dedicated to this topic of accepting blindness, but who knows?

I also might feel more open to this narrative from a writer who experienced becoming disabled in some other way and was open about it. While they would still need to research blindness, some of the issues I named here could be avoided through having prior personal experience that non-disabled people simply don’t have.

If, however, you find yourself upset or feeling excluded by this post, consider what I wrote again. Consider why you think you are the best person to tell such a story with this particular arc.

I am also not saying that non-disabled writers could never write this topic well. I just question, again, what they can add to the topic of accepting blindness that blind people can’t already add. This is also assuming they were able to avoid some of the issues I listed above that might come up. Which would be difficult on top of doing all the other research they need to do in order to write a book. Why make it harder for themselves?

Now that I’m done with the disclaimers, accepting blindness should be something mostly left up to blind writers. This narrative is so closely tied to the trauma-based / incident-based blindness that it can be hard to separate them, but I feel like the readers of the blog have thought hard to suggest ways to improve or subvert that trope and the problems that go with it. Maybe they can do the same here. Maybe not.

Anyway, the reason I think it should be left to blind writers is because of the personal experience I mentioned previously. Acceptance will come from a more authentic place. Anything that comes before the acceptance will also come from an authentic place and blind writers will know how to deal these issues a little better.

Blind writers will know how to write this topic well. They can center blind readers in a way that many arcs like this don’t.

As a side note, blind writers also need more recognition and attention. This arc is specifically about or mostly about accepting blindness, which blind writers are intimately familiar with. Their stories should be prioritized in this area, at the very least.

If a non-disabled writer decided to do this topic, I think it would help to read and public ally promote books and other works by blind people.

Thank you for asking this question.

This was a really great question and I want to thank the anon for asking. I really appreciate the chance to discuss this topic. If anyone wants to expand on this question or figure out ways to subvert this arc, feel free to ask. Also, remember that I am not authority on stories about blind people, but I feel this opinion in shared by many of us and it should be known so writers can be aware.

Suggestions for alternatives.

1. Include only brief instances of acceptance and / or make it only related to blindness instead of accepting blindness as a character arc.

It will depend on how you do it, but brief, less direct instances of acceptance could be done well. One thing I’m thinking of is Toph challenging her father in The Blind Bandit. This could be seen as a form of self-acceptance for Toph, one which is related to her blindness without being the entirety of her need to accept part of herself, which gives her the courage to disrupt the view her parents have of her. Toph doesn’t struggle with being blind. She struggles with something related to being blind, which her parents being over-protective, limiting her freedom and expression, and putting her a gender role box.

The rest of Toph’s story wasn’t completely about being blind either. The writers, who weren’t blind as far as I can gather, handled this part well, and so I wanted to include it as an example.

Obviously, this can also be done badly, but that’s what beta readers are for. I personally would prefer the acceptance arc only be tangentially related to blindness, especially when combined with the trope about going blind through trauma / incidents / accidents.

2. Start in a different place.

You could start the story or character arc in a different place, rather than starting directly after going blind. This could be years later. After they already adjusted to the bigger parts of being blind. This saves you the need to figure out how to get around it.

Some parts of this ask might help.

3. Focus mostly on the practical stuff rather than the emotional side.

Focus on things like cane skills, adjusting to using screen-readers or needing to increase font sizes to read. Focus on learning to cook. Make the arc less about emotional stuff and more achieving goals. While I can understand how this might bother some blind people, I think it can work if blind readers are consulted, especially readers who went blind later in life. I wanted to include this as an option just in case people are determined to include going blind in the story. I think, if the author is careful, it could go well. A few narrative justifications for not writing the typical acceptance arc include:

-the character was already blind in some way first

-the character has a blind sibling, parent, or friend they grew up with

-the character got counseling or the story mentions they are getting counseling

Alternatively, you could also focus emotional difficulties on the traumatic incident, if there is one, and not the resulting blindness.

4. Write different stories - expand what stories about blind characters look like.

Writers have so many opportunities! I don’t see why they would feel the need to write a story primarily about going blind and learning you aren’t useless now after all, when they could be writing about a blind mermaid challenging the Mer Queen and falling in love with her instead. When they could be writing about blind space pirates creating new technology for other blind people. When they could be writing about a blind witch reclaiming their sexuality and also learning to dance to make their coven less worried about their social life after going blind.

See this post for more ideas about expanding the typical stories.

If you are creative enough, none of my claims that certain topics being best left to blind writers should stop you. If you feel limited, you might be trapped in the idea that blind people only have one narrative: trauma, sadness, helplessness, and just maybe, acceptance. If you don’t feel limited, you are in a good place.

Blind readers want other types of stories, too.

I hope this helps some of my followers. Thanks for the interesting question, anon. If anyone has any questions or would like me to clarify something, feel free to ask. I wrote this at night when I was tired. I have missed some things.

-BlindBeta

P.S. The ideas I pitched at the end are free to use if you feel inspired by any of them.

[the-ukrainian-giraffe]

How do you feel about your wife outing you and airing out your issues? Reading her posts makes me feel like I know you which I admit is weird, but also makes me hope you're not being exploited for likes because you seem like a cool dude?

Hi there...I appreciate your concern but it doesn't go down the way an outside observer may think it does.

Point one: she didn't "out" me, per se. She just hasn't made a secret of my queerness, or our relationship with our shared partner...but I haven't either. I have mentioned Moses here, he's met my in-laws, and has sat in on Skype calls with my mother and sisters and being the excellent and kindhearted person that he is, everyone loves him even if they don't quite get how it works. I'm not ashamed of who or what I am, and I'm not the type to keep secrets. Who has time for that? I've always been a "take me or leave me" kind of guy and at my age, that's unlikely to change.

As far as my "issues", while you weren't extremely specific I have to think you meant her post about my recent body image problems. To that point, I'll just say...I'm not hiding anything but my gut. The tone of her posts are such that I never feel exploited, called out, mocked...I think she handles all of our issues with a lot of sensitivity, and I do get to see the drafts and veto anything I'm not comfortable with.

I'm glad you feel like you know me, and while I do have to remain as anonymous as possible for professional and personal reasons (I have already had some stalker-ish private messages that make me think that giving too much identifying information would probably be a bad idea) there is something very special about connecting with people here and sharing aspects of my life with them. It can be hard as an adult to make friends and connect with other people in a meaningful way, so messages like yours can alleviate that loneliness that happens sometimes.

So, I really sincerely thank you for your concern...I'm so touched that you would care enough to ask if I'm okay and I promise you my wife is respectful enough of me and my boundaries that if I had a problem with one of her posts, no one would ever see that post.

[axoxtxhxh]

Pairing: Sub!Goshiki x DomFem! Chubby!Reader Part 2 Summary: You met your good friend Goshiki at work one day, having similar interests in books. When you start developing feelings for him, things get difficult. Especially when he asks a special favor. Content: Body image issues, heated makeout session, strong sexuality, heavy grinding over clothes Word Count: ~ 4,100

A/N: Yay for part two! This is Part 2 of my three part series with Goshiki! I will post Part 3 on Friday. If you missed Part 1, check out the Please Me Series Masterlist where you can find all of our stories for the Please Me series!

One week. It had been one full week since you’d heard from Goshiki. He left your apartment so quickly and you didn’t really have much time to think about why before your self-doubt and body image issues took over. It was stupid of you to be so upset over it because honestly, you really had only met Goshiki a couple months ago. But it did hurt and you wereupset because these last couple months had been the best months you’d ever had and it was as if it was all taken away in that moment he walked out the door.

You were tracing circles on the desk at work when you saw someone walk into the bookstore and your eyes shot to the door. It wasn’t Goshiki and you slumped back down, drawing your circles.

“God, you’re depressing.” Dylan’s voice came from behind you. “Why don’t you just text him?”

“So I can be that weird clingy person.” You shivered, standing up straight and facing him. “No thank you.”

“You’re a writer and you don’t think that maybe he hasn’t texted because he’s thinking the same thing? It’s writing 101.”

“I am a writer, but I already told you, I am not the kind of person that has a role in these stories. I’m like the side character that tells the main character they’re doing a great job.” You drummed your fingers on the desk, quickly looking at the door again as another person walked in and Dylan laughed.

“Why don’t you go take a break.” He stopped your fingers.

“I just had mine.”

“Well take another. And go for a walk. You’re going to break your neck if you keep looking at the entrance like that.” He laughed.

“I’m fine, Dylan.”

“You’re not and neither am I. I need coffee. Grab me some?”

“So now I’m your gofer?” You laughed, taking his card.

“And buy yourself something. I don’t need you ogling my cup when you get back.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You walked out the front and set out to your coffee shop. The fresh air did feel really nice, not to mention it was one of the better days that week, weather-wise. You almost wished the café were a little bit farther so you could have more time to enjoy the day. Almost wished. The amount of times the close proximity of this café had saved you from a rough work day was monstrous.

When you reached the coffee shop, it was midday and the way the light hit the glass windows and door, you couldn’t see the inside so it came as quite a shock when the door swung open and nearly hit you in the face. What came as more of a surprise was who was opening the door. You had a mini moment of panic as you watched Goshiki turn around, having used his butt to push the door open.

You both stood there for a second staring at each other, neither one of you knowing what to say.

“Gos—” You started, stopping when he said your name at the same time. You both laughed lightly which gave you a bit of hope. “You can go first.”

“I’m sorry.” He looked down. “The way I left wasn’t really fair to you.”

“No, it’s okay. I feel like I sort of pushed you into the kiss.”

“No! You didn’t! It wasn’t the kiss.”

“It was because I sat on your lap.”

“Yeah.” He smiled, nodding and you sighed quietly, trying not to feel the ache in your heart.

You knew it. You knew it was because of you. He ran out because you nearly smothered him.

“I’ve just never had anyone… that close… like… on me. And the way we were touching… I was having… like—Ugh, I’m not making sense.” He squeezed his eyes shut.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to explain.” You shrugged, hoping you seemed nonchalant and not like you were about to cry. “I get it.”

“You do?” His eyes opened wide and looked at you.

“Yeah, I know I’m not small.” You couldn’t look him in the eye so you focused on the two coffee cups in his hands. “It probably felt like you were being crushed—”

“What?” He interjected quickly. “No, that’s not it at all. Is that what you were thinking this whole time?”

“Well, yeah.” You finally looked up at him and he sighed.

“That—I keep telling you, you look amazing. It’s not you. The problem is that I’m a virgin. I’ve never done anything like that. I’ve barely even kissed anyone.”

“You—you’re a virgin?”

“Yes.”

“And you ran out…”

“Because I was nervous. I didn’t know how to tell you and I definitely didn’t know how to continue. I…” You could tell he was trying to figure out how to explain to you what he was feeling, but he couldn’t get it into words and you smiled. He didn’t think you were heavy. He didn’t think you were too big and he didn’t run out because he was disgusted by you.

“Goshiki?” You were still smiling, unable to hide your happiness at this new information. “Do you want to just forget it happened for now?”

You could visibly see the relief in his face and you watched his shoulders relax as he smiled.

“Yes. Honestly, that would be perfect. Can I walk you back to work?”

“Yes.” You nodded, a nearly permanent smile on your face. “Who’s the coffee for?”

He looked down at the cup in each hand. “You. I was going to bring it to you and apologize.”

You had a moment where you both looked at each other and smiled, both happy things were going to be okay before you quickly went in the coffee shop and bought Dylan’s coffee, taking your time on the walk back to the bookstore with Goshiki.

There was nothing hidden in the look on Dylan’s face as you stepped into the bookstore, waving to Goshiki as he headed back to practice.

“What the hell? I told you to get me a coffee and you come back with the guy you’ve been snapping your neck for every time someone walks in?”

“It was sending me to get you coffee that had me running into him.” You handed Dylan his cup. “It’s fine though. We were able to talk a little and I think things are okay.”

“If you had a talk that fast, things are not okay.”

“It was more like we talked about having a talk. He’s going to come by at the end of my shift.”

“So was I right?” He took a sip from his cup and you made a face.

“Right about what?” You drank from your cup, narrowing your eyes.

“He wasn’t texting you for the same reason you weren’t texting him?”

“What does that even matter.” You rolled your eyes.

“It does something to me knowing I’m right.” He smiled, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as if he could smell his correct guess. “Strokes my ego a bit.”

“I don’t think I’m willing to give you that satisfaction.”

“I was right.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t need to.” He smiled and you turned around to look at the door, pretending to ignore him when he appeared at your ear, whispering. “I was right.”

The rest of your shift flew by yet somehow took forever to end. You tried to keep yourself busy, but there really was only so much you could do with limited customers and an anxious heart.

The one good thing that did come from your shift was the new shipments of books, one of them was the book both you and Goshiki had been waiting for. He still felt weird taking books home so you started buying them with your discount and you hid a stack for him behind the counter. All of your coworkers knew this so when he walked in, they handed him the stack and he found a place to sit and read. He was going to be so happy the new book came in and you were worried about how happy it made you at the thought of him being excited over it.

As the time got closer to when he was supposed to show up, you started to feel nervous.  You were happy things were better and you got to talk about what happened, but now it was becoming really hard to ignore the fact that you definitely did have feelings for Goshiki. He never made it clear whether he did or didn’t, he only mentioned that he had never had sex and doesn’t have a lot of experience, but that wasn’t enough for you to think that he could like you.

You could actually kick yourself for suggesting to forget about the kiss. He seemed really excited to forget it though so maybe he didn’t like you. But then again, he could have been happy to forget about the awkwardness in which case he may have been okay with the kiss and maybe did have feelings for you. Damn it, anxiety!

You dropped your head into your hands and looked down at the counter as your phone buzzed. It was five minutes until your shift was over and Goshiki just messaged.

No! You cannot meet me later! You thought. I am over here freaking out because I don’t know how you feel about me and I’m about to bury my head into the sand if I don’t die of a heart attack first.

Great, now he wasn’t even going to come to the bookstore. Your anxiety would have to sit a little longer.

You headed home and did your best not to think about it which was nearly impossible. With your laptop on your lap, you got to writing. If Goshiki was going to be a while, you might as well make use of the time. You mentally slapped yourself when you thought of the way his eyes glued to the screen when he read your stories and went back to focusing.

It took you a bit, but once you got into the zone, you were able to block out the rest of the world and the rest of your thoughts and just write. By the time you heard a knock at the door, you looked at the clock. It had been an hour. You moved your laptop to the coffee table and stood up, making your way to the door. Each step you took you got more and more nervous, no longer able to brush the anxiety aside because the cause of the anxiety was right behind the door. You took a deep breath and opened it.

Damn it. It was a package. The box was small and you could barely read the label, but as soon as you picked it up, you were almost jumping out of excitement. You went to the kitchen, grabbing scissors and opening the box up. Your business cards.

It had taken you a while to drum up the courage to order them. Both Dylan and Goshiki badgering you until you placed the order. The material you chose made the wait time so much longer, but it was way more than worth it holding it in your hands. The soft, almost velvety feel of the matte black card gave you a smile you couldn’t hold back. You closed your eyes, rubbing the card in between your fingers and smiled.

“Your cards came in?” A voice came from behind you and you jumped, your hand flying to your chest as you turned around.

“Holy shit, Goshiki. You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He laughed. “The door was open so I thought you knew I was coming.

“I left it open?” You peeked behind him to the door.

“Yeah. I closed it.” He was looking at the counter where you left the box of cards. “Can I see them?”

“Here.” You handed him the card and he looked at it, smiling. “You can keep that one.”

“Thanks.”

Everything was so awkward. You couldn’t understand how it was so comfortable in front of the café, but now it was so awkward.

“Can we talk?”

That was why it was awkward. There was something he wanted to say and it had your chest tightening.

“Sure.”

You moved to sit on the couch and he sat next to you, rubbing his palms on his thighs. He looked up to you, opening his mouth like he was going to speak, but then closing it quickly and looking back down at his hands.

“You okay?”

“I… I’m okay. I was hoping that we could… I mean, I know you’re not—we’re not rea…” He blew air out through his cheeks.

“Goshiki, whatever it is, you can tell me.” You put your hand on his shoulder and felt him tense up. There was a short pause, but then he quickly turned to you and pushed himself forward so your lips were touching. His lips already moving roughly against yours.

His hand was on your cheek and trying to bring you closer to him. This was different than before, he was way more active, his tongue pushing through your lips, not even waiting for you to open your mouth. His weight pushed you back so you were almost laying down. It felt so good feeling his entire body against yours, so warm and strong, but you couldn’t shake that he was pushing too fast. You only just learned he was a virgin and now he was rushing into this.

“Go—Goshi—Goshiki! Wait.” You struggled to get a word out, each time your mouth was open, he used to chance to push his tongue in, but he pulled back to look at you. His lips were starting to look swollen, almost bee stung and it was adorable, but you shook that out of your mind. “What are—we just talked. I thought because of your inexperience…”

“I want to do it with you.” He spoke so casually, as if he’d seriously thought about it. “If that’s okay.”

If that’s okay? Yes! You most definitely wanted to rip his clothes off and run your tongue over every inch of him. The look in his eyes had you wetter than you could remember being, but this was kind of a big deal for him. You weren’t sure if rushing into this with you was such a good idea.

“I mean… are you sure?” You asked, rubbing his cheek lightly and he nodded.

“Take me.” He whispered as he leaned back in. You didn’t even have time to smile at his use of one of your favorite romance novel’s title before his lips were back on yours.

This time was way more passionate. You could feel his hands all over you, less hesitant than before as they moved up your body. His inexperience was so plainly obvious to you now that you knew it, it made you wonder how you didn’t notice before. The way his lips moved against your lips, still unsure of how they were supposed to fit with yours. The way his tongue was moving around your mouth heavily, almost beating the inside of your cheeks. The way his dick was honestly already so incredibly hard against your thigh. He was barely thrusting as he moaned into your mouth, his fingers tangled in your hair.

His other hand continued its movements up and down your sides, lingering longer each time as he got closer to your breasts.

You were finding it harder to guide him as he lay on top of you and you put your hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back, but at the slightest resistance from you, he quickly stopped. His eyes, so heavily lidded, looked down at you.

“A—Is it okay?” His cheeks were pink and his lips were red, shiny with spit, as he licked them.

“It’s okay.” You smiled. “Are you okay?”

“Your lips are so soft.” He leaned in again to kiss you. “They taste like strawberries.”

His mouth was all over yours again, but this time softer, gentler, and instead of his tongue being shoved into your mouth, it delicately brushed over your lips. All of it had your breath catching in your throat and you were wondering how he could have switched so quickly from the first kiss.

You felt that familiar tingle run through your body, goosebumps raising on your skin, and your hands went to Goshiki’s back to pull him closer to you. You wanted him. Your fear of overthinking anything was far from your mind as you felt his warm hand slide under your shirt and rest on your stomach.

God, he was so hard, his cock pressed up against you, his grinding became rougher, but you didn’t mind it at all. He was wearing his tracksuit and the pants were definitely thin enough for you to feel everything. Your lips were numb from all the kissing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away until he did, leaning back a little for air.

“Take off your jacket.” You commanded. He sat up fully, nodding and you sat up with him, pulling your own shirt off.

It was unfortunate that you really weren’t expecting anything like this to happen so your current bra situation was a sports bra, but at least it was your cute black one that showed off your cleavage. Based on the motionless stare Goshiki had on your breasts, he didn’t seem to mind at all what bra you were wearing.

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him down, smiling with him into the kiss until his lips moved to your neck and you shivered at his breath on your skin. You could feel his inexperience again, but it’s almost as if it didn’t matter this time because he was grinding even harder against you and you wrapped your legs around him, almost forcing him into position to rub roughly against your clit.

Goshiki had been letting out tiny whimpers here and there as well as the occasional moan, but you had been relatively quiet until his erection hit that swollen and sensitive bud of nerves so perfectly that you moaned out, almost awkwardly with how loud it was and your hand went to his hair. If anything, Goshiki took this as a sign to keep going and he ground harder against you, hoping to make you feel it again.

“It feels so good.” He whispered against your skin and you couldn’t have agreed more, literally pulling him even closer against you and he kept grinding, even faster, moaning even louder.

You loved when your partner was loud. From what you knew about Goshiki, he loved praise in everyday life. You could only imagine what it would do to him in the bedroom.

“I love the way you touch me.” You groaned quietly. He paused for a second before his hands started roaming over you again, this time further, touching parts of you he was too hesitant to touch before. “Just like that. Don’t stop, you’re so good at that.”

It’s like you could feel his heart racing, his uncertainty fading and his cock twitching against you as you complimented him. The more you praised him, the harder he worked, his moans getting louder and louder and it reached a point where if he wasn’t faking it, you were sure he would orgasm.

His face was still in your chest, his hips wildly rubbing against you. His moaning turned to groans which then became grunting before one long grunt escaped him and his hips flew forward against yours, his body shaking then stilling and he started panting.

You’re in no way an expert, but you were experienced enough to know that Goshiki just came in his pants. He wasn’t moving, his face was resting against your chest as he took deep breaths.

“Oh fuck.” You could hear him whisper into your chest. “Oh shit.”

“Goshiki.” Your hand was still on his back and you honestly didn’t know what to do or say to him because you really couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “It—it’s okay.”

That was probably the worst thing to say. You were not quick to thinking ever and this definitely showcased that. You’ve had men come too soon before, but you both kept going, waiting for him to be ready again before you moved forward.

It was different for Goshiki though and it was your job to guide him. A job you were failing at.

After a minute or so, he sat up, sitting back on the couch and he stared at the coffee table, unable to bring his eyes to you.

“Gosh—"

“I should go home and change.” He looked at you and you could see how mortified he felt before he quickly looked away. “Yeah, I’m gonna go change.”

“Um, okay.” You scooted off the couch to stand up with him. “Do you want me to come with?”

“No, it’s fine.” He already put his jacket back on and was moving to the door. “I’ll message you later.”

He didn’t message. Not that day and not the day after or the day after that. You were beginning to feel like it was your fault again. It wasn’t like before, but you felt just as bad as you did before.

The last time you felt like this, you were at work worried that you had destroyed your friendship with Goshiki and you started to feel better after going for a walk so that should work this time too. At least that’s what you told yourself when you started putting on your shoes. You opened your door to leave, to go somewhere, anywhere to get yourself out of your apartment and out of your head for a little.

When you opened the door, you jumped back, surprised someone was standing there. Goshiki had his hand up, ready to knock, a startled look on his face. You both stared at each other, stunned and completely not expecting to see the other. Goshiki’s hand stayed in the air, in a fist as if he was going to eventually need to knock. Like you would just close the door so the entire exchange could start fresh.

“Goshiki.” You were the first one to speak and when you did, it’s as if he woke up and slowly put his hand down.

“I’m sorry I didn’t message. I said I would.”

It was still really uncomfortable. You weren’t sure what to say and it wasn’t as if you were mad, but you couldn’t help but think that maybe he thought you were mad. The pause before you spoke was too long and now you felt like you couldn’t say anything at all because it would seem weird or fake because you hesitated. Damn it, anxiety!

“Sorry. You must have been going somewhere.” He stepped to the side, looking down and you could tell he was contemplating just leaving.

“Do you want to talk?” You also stepped aside and he looked up, pausing before nodding and stepping inside your apartment.

It seemed like a terrible idea to sit on that couch so you moved to the kitchen and leaned against the counter, Goshiki across from you.

“It was stupid and unfair of me to leave again.” He started. “I—”

“No, it was my fault.” You stepped closer to him, leaning on the kitchen island in between the both of you. “I should have been better. I’m the one with experience.”

“But leaving isn’t helpful. I promise, I won’t leave anymore. I was just so embarrassed.” He rubbed his forehead, making a face, his cheeks already a bright pink at the memory.

“There’s nothing wrong with coming in your pants.” You assured him. “I came in my pants too.”

“You did?” His eyes were wide as he looked at you.

“No, sorry. I don’t know why I said that.” You admitted and he looked back down, discouraged again and you walked around the counter, putting your hand on his shoulder. “I mean, I could have, if—”

“If I didn’t come in mine first?” He laughed and you almost let a sigh of relief out at seeing his smile. “Can I be honest?”

“Yeah.”

“I think I might like you.” He looked down, not able to look at you while he spoke. Though if he did, he would have seen the huge smile on your face. “So as much as I want to lose my virginity, maybe we could slow down.”

The only visual description you had for describing how you felt in that moment was fireworks. Fireworks were going off in your brain, in front of your eyes, all around Goshiki and you couldn’t believe what he had said. He liked you.

“Goshiki?” It was still nearly impossible to contain your excitement at his confession, but you were doing your best, biting your lip so you wouldn’t scream out with delight. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

He quickly looked up at you and smiled. That smile you can never say no to.

.....

Taglist: @chaotic-nick​ @yep-seeyalaterbranflakes​ @serostapesweat​ @lovelyzabrak-meadow​

[thisisgonnafuxkinkillme]

Pro Heros Find You Crying

Warnings: tw for body image, mentions of death of pets

Yagi Toshinori/All Might

You were home, alone, when you found out. It wasn’t a particularly big issue, and it wasn’t something that someone else would necessarily care about, but to you, this was the final straw. 

An actor from your childhood, someone who you watched constantly as a child, someone who, albeit from a screen, saw you grow up, passed away. You never got to even meet him in person. The closest you’ve ever gotten was him noticing your comment on a livestream of 12 other people, and smiling.

You never got to thank him. For everything he’d done for you. 

Tears fell from your eyes uncontrollably, dripping from your eyelashes and dropping onto the floor, your clothes, the keyboard. 

Soon, though, you felt dreaded sobs making their way from your core all the way through your vocal cords. They shook your body like an earthquake. Sobs don’t care what they break inside you. They just need to get out.

What no one else would understand about this, though, was that your tears weren’t just being spilled for the actor you never got to thank. No, these represent so much more.

Your childhood is officially gone.

Just as that actor will be grieved, buried, and will rot in the ground with dusty fake flowers above his grave, your childhood will be filled with maggots and worms.

The thing about childhoods, though, is that they still live inside you, even when they’re over.

You always found this fact a cruel one. Even now, you could feel the worms burrowing into your childhood, eating away and destroying all the memories you’ve tried so hard to keep in tact for all these years. 

You sobbed for him, yes. But you were still grieving your loss as well.

Cold, bony fingers met your shoulder. You jumped, yelping at the sudden touch.

“What?! What do you want?!” you screamed. You aren’t usually this ornery, but the embarrasment of being this upset over something so menial, plus the shock of someone else being home with you, caused you to snap.

"What happened?" He gently asked. He met your seemingly angry tone with nothing but pure kindness and sympathy.

"I-I'm so sorry, Toshi...I didn't mean-"

"I know, pumpkin. I know."

He took you in his arms, pulling you towards him.

In between sobs, you explained what happened.

"oh...I see... That does sound like a lot for you to be dealing with."

He stroked your tear stained cheek.

“But...I hope you know that just because you’re older, it doesn’t mean that you’re not allowed to be a kid sometimes. You can still get excited over stuff, and cry over things that seem silly, and have wonder about new things. As long as you keep a piece of your childhood with you, you never have to say goodbye.”

Once you calmed down, he took you out for ice cream: something you haven’t done since you were barely 10 years old. 

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead

You quickly clicked your heels into the staff restroom, closing the door behind you and shakily letting out a sigh of relief. You knew you didn’t have much time left before the tears started coming once you got that text, so you decided it’d be best for you to go ahead and have another teacher deal with your class for a few minutes while you let yourself deal with this, alone.

You re-read the text one more time. Maybe it wasn’t what you thought it was.

Y/n... I’m so sorry, but your dog was put to sleep today. 

You shook your head. No, maybe she meant to say that he was taking a nap. Maybe he was still waiting for you, at home, in his little bed...

A sob escaped before you had the chance to control it as you pictured his little black and white face peacefully sleeping on his doggie bed. 

You had that dog for years. He’d been there for you when no one else had, and though he couldn’t speak, you always knew he silently understood what you needed when you needed it.

Now, he was gone.

You covered your mouth, trying your best to supress the sounds of sorrow escaping your lips. Maybe, you thought, if I don’t acknowledge it, it’s not real.

But deep down, you know that’s not true. 

The door to the staff bathroom begins to creak open. 

“Hey, someone’s in here!” you croak out, the tears were even audible in your voice.

“Yeah, and now I’m in here too,” the teacher replied, shutting and locking the door behind him. Something you had forgotten to do.

It was Aizawa, the very teacher you had just asked to watch your students ‘for a moment’.

Before you could ask about them, he mentioned, “They’re fine. I put on a movie for em... but you, on the other hand, are certainly not.”

He took his place next to you on the dirty tile floor of the school restroom, against one wall. He handed you a tissue, noting but not mentioning the fact that you were a mess of tears, ruined makeup, and snot. You gladly accepted, blowing your nose.

Neither of you said much for a good five minutes. You forced yourself to calm down, as to not embarrass yourself in front of him, but the tears were still there, festering below the surface.

“So, what’s got you so upset?” 

That little question was all it took for you to break. You tried, unsuccessfully, to say it. The three little words, “My dog died,” but no matter how much you strained, all that came out was a mess of choked up sobs.

You shakily handed him your phone. His eyes darted to the text, and he instantly understood. 

Aizawa was not one for any physical touching, ever. Even though you had been dating him, he still never really enjoyed holding hands, hugging, or anything like that. 

Today, however, was a totally different situation. He turned to you, opening his arms wide, gesturing for you to ‘come here’.

But you didn’t need anything more. 

You did, and he silently cradled you, rubbing your hair. 

Truthfully, he didn’t know exactly what to say. What could you say? 

Once you began to calm down, he stroked your jaw lightly.

“What was his name?”

“...Theo.” you answered plainly. 

“You loved Theo a lot, didn’t you?” 

You nodded.

“You know, what’s so funny about losing a pet is that...it’s incredibly hard,” he sighed, “Even harder than losing humans.”

Aizawa continued, “It’s because we don’t have anything to gain from lying about loving them. We just do. Animals love their owners completely unconditionally, never needing any reassurance that you love them back a hundred times over. That’s not something that many humans have.”

You nodded.

“ I just hope you know that...you did your best for him. He couldn’t have ever asked for a better owner to share his life with. You did good, y/n,” he whispered. You shot him a shaky smile. Really, your heart was aching more now than ever. 

“You don’t have to do all that. I know you’re not doing well, still. Please, go ahead and go home for the day. I can take on your class, no problem,” he assured.

“...can you...come over after work?” you asked. He nodded.

Taishiro Toyomitsu/Fatgum

It’s been almost a year since this pandemic began. You wonder to yourself, how long can that be an excuse for you? 

You had gained weight. A lot of it. You suffer from secret binge eating, indulging yourself greedily in all your favorite comfort foods. Usually, you did this at night, which worked out even better for you, since your boyfriend usually had night watch and was not at home. 

Stretch marks were always a normal sight for you, ever since you hit puberty, but the ones on your stomach have started to move upwards, like vines trying to find the sun. They stared back at you in shades of purples, pinks, and browns. 

You ran your fingers over your now bumpy skin.

Other girls don’t look like this. Other girls are happy with a miniature bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, a granola bar for lunch, and maybe a tiny serving of pasta for dinner. They are the beautiful ones. They must be happy, right?

Your fingers unrelentlessly pinch and pull at your stomach, your thighs, your love handles. All fat.

Each tiny action reminded your body that you hated it. 

Did you even ever love your body? Even when you were ‘skinny’? 

Your eyes met with your face, staring back at you in your mirror. You saw flashes of the girl you once were, tiny memories of a once happy girl.

You couldn’t hold back the wail of grief that racked your whole body. You turned away from the mirror, curling up on your floor. 

That wasn’t any better.

The remanants of last night’s binge surrounded you. Wrappers from your favorite ice cream bar, discarded chip bags, and candy containers scattered your floor.

You suddenly remembered that he’d be home soon, and scrambled to collect all the evidence through your blurry eyes.

Each piece of trash reminded you of your failure, your lack of self control. Your uselessness.

You sobbed harder. 

“Y/n, darling, I’m home!” that peppy, familiar voice announced from the entranceway. You took a deep breath, scooting all the trash under your bed and wiping your face.

You greeted him, a faux smile plastered on your face.

He began to speak, but when he got a good look at you, he paused.

“What happened here, sweetie?” he asked, touching your face. His hand was chilled from the outside air.

“N-nothing. I’m fine,” you lied, forcing the smile a little more.

He squinted his eyes, sitting down at the kitchen table. 

“Go ahead an’ tell me what’s going on with ya,” he offered, patting one knee.

“Baby, it’s nothing. You need to go to bed, I know you’re probably exhausted.”

“The only thing exhausting me right now is you. I’ll go to the bedroom if that’s whatcha want, but I’m not goin to bed until you tell me what’s wrong.” 

Fatgum made his way into the bedroom, quickly slipping into his house clothes before sliding into the bed you both shared.

Before you could join him, he paused, adjusting himself.

He then pulled out a popsicle stick that you neglected to remove from the bed when you made it this morning. At the sight of it, you turned away from him and covered your face.

He was now wholly confused, but ready to deal with whatever it was that was upsetting you. He reached out, pulling you to him. You wanted to protest, but you couldn’t find the strength to anymore.

He rubbed your back in small circles, cooing, “let it out, babydoll...that’s it, good...”

Once you had calmed down quite a bit, he tilted your chin up towards his face, making you make eye contact.

“What have you been hiding from me, love?” he delicately questioned.

You said nothing, but slid out the pile of trash from the night before.

“This...is from last night,” you stated plainly.

You tensed your body, ready for the ridicule, the mocking, the ‘i’m just concerned for your health’ comments. 

You looked up, to see if he could actually see what you’d just shown him. He did. His eyes were dewy yet understanding.

He stood up, placing his arm around you and pulling you towards him.

“I understand,” he whispered into your ear. You clenched your fist.

“No. You can’t understand.” 

You looked up at him, with now angered eyes.

“You’ll never understand, Tai. Never.”

“What do you-”

“YOU DON’T HAVE TO STAY FAT FOREVER! I DO!” you screeched, covering your face. You never yelled at him before, or anyone else for that matter. But this issue you’ve been dealing with was one that no one ever saw from you. It was a raw, bleeding subject, one that you felt as if you’ve just poured a great deal of salt on.

“Darling...” he whispered, pulling you close to him, “What’s wrong with being fat, honey?” 

“Are you kidding?” you spat, “I don’t look good like this, Tai. I don’t fit into my clothes anymore, I-”

“Number one, you most certainly do look good like anything. Number two, I will buy you new clothes.”

You were starting to get frustrated.

“Tai! I’m telling you, I fucking hate myself, okay? I hate my body! And, sometimes, I hate you for pretending to love something that I know you hate, too!”

He pulled you away from him, looking you in the eye. He was serious now.

“Don’t you be puttin words in my mouth. I have never ever, not even once thought about hating you or your body,”

“That’s a lie, Tai! How could you ever love me when I look like this?”

“How could you ever love me when I look like this?” he retorted, gesturing to his fat form. 

You gasped. You didn’t really have an answer.

He knew you wouldn’t, either.

“So, now tell me, y/n... what’s so wrong about being fat?”

You clung to him, apologizing in between sobs.

He hushed you, cooing,” There’s nothing for you to be sorry about, it’s okay. I love you, sweetie.”

You sniffed, “I love you, too.”

[petite-ely]

Afraid // JJ Maybank

five - but what if?

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: bad language (don’t swear kids), mention of drowning, mention of death, nightmares, mention of guns, mention of fight, did I miss something.

Description: after his reckless actions at the party, JJ is unable to sleep but he isn’t the only one still awake.

A/n : I don’t want to make this longer than it already is, I think I’ve talked enough lol. If for some reason you want to know why I’ve been gone for so long I’ve written a post regarding it. Sorry again for not posting in so long. If you want to chat, feel free to reach out. I’m friendly. :) please kindly tell me if I’ve made some mistakes, I’ve reread this like a hundred times but its possible some mistakes slipped.

Previously next

Afraid masterlist

Gif by @cobrazkai

Song recommendation

JJ Maybank was 14 years old when he first realized that he had feelings for one of his best friends. The thing is he didn’t know what the hell those feelings were. He had always thought that y/n was really pretty and he considered her to be one of her closest friends and that was it. Friends- that’s what they were.

But after years of friendship and wild adventures and basically hanging out 24/7, something felt different. And boy, did that scare him.

JJ was not the kind of person to be really in touch with his emotions. Being abandoned by his own mother and living with an abusive alcoholic father didn’t really help either. If anything, his past traumas only made him more disconnected from his emotions and feelings.

He might’ve been hot headed and impulsive but that didn’t stop him from feeling things, often even too deeply. The issue was naming the emotions he was feeling. He didn’t know what he was feeling like half of the time. So when it came to y/n, his feelings for her were so intense and unknown. He had never felt this way for anyone before. He was so confused.

Being around her felt weirdly homely and yet, he never really had a real home to come to. For him, it was only a house. It was a building with things he wasn’t really attached to and a man he couldn’t really call a father, despite DNA saying otherwise. Being with her felt warm and golden and it was like a drug he couldn’t say no to. He was constantly looking for ways to feel this specific way. It was euphoric. But he only felt this way when he was around her. And it felt like home.

She was the home he wanted to come to every freaking night. And he wanted to dance with her and have night long discussion and caress her cheeks tenderly. He wanted to kiss her more than anything else, his lips on hers staying that way until one of them needed to take a breath - oh what heavenly feeling that must be. He wanted to proclaim his feelings to the entire island - the entire world even.

Only he couldn’t. There was this rule, and he couldn’t break it. Usually, he wasn’t the kind of person to let rules determine what he should and shouldn’t do. But it was the pogue rules, he couldn’t break them. He couldn’t do that to his friends, regardless of his own feelings.

Love. That’s what his feelings were. It took him some time to realize it, but yeah, it was love. He was certain of it (which was rare for JJ). A first love, innocent, deep and one sided. At least that’s what he thought. How could she love him? How could anyone love him when even his own father didn’t? Who would want him?

Now, JJ had messed, big time.

He was sitting beneath a tree, at the edge of the yard whims the château, a few feet away from where the water started. His gaze was turned towards the sunrise though he wasn’t really looking at the magnificent show of colours that nature was offering him. He was thinking or more like regretting.

He kept replaying the event that had happened just a few hours ago on the boneyard again and again in his mind. The arrogance on John B’s face while he taunted the kooks, the empty, psychotic look on Topper’s face while he was holding J.B’s head underwater, his own hand holding the gun against Topper’s head. It felt so powerful at the moment and yet in retrospect he felt so stupid. What would he have done if something had actually happened, if someone had gotten hurt because of him?

In the spur of the moment, he hadn’t thought about it really much. How crazy it actually was. He saw his friend in a situation where he could actually die and only thought about helping him. He had this thing with him that could help save him, an object that take could take someone’s life in the matter of seconds. So he used it at his advantage. He had only wanted to help, but at what cost.

He kept picturing the expression on y/n’s face when he got the gun out. It wasn’t anger, no it was much worse, she was terrified. She had actually been scared of him. How could he ever make up for that. How he could he ever admit what he was feeling for her after he had brought her such terror. He had ruined everything.

What if she never forgot that moment? What if she never forgave him?

A branch cracked somewhere in the distance, and JJ turned to face whoever, or whatever, was lurking in the dark. He was blinded by the bright artificial light of a flashlight. “JJ?” A voice spoke and the blond immediately recognized it. Y/n.

“Can you please turn it off, I don’t think it’s necessary,” he responded, motioning to the clarity that brought the sunrise. It was light enough for them to fully see one another.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, “-she sat down beside him- “Couldn’t sleep?” JJ stared at her for a moment before taking his eyes away.

“Yeah, you could say that. What about you? John B snoring too loud?” Y/n gave a small laugh.

“Um, no, not this time.” Her smile went down. “I had a nightmare.” JJ’s brows furrowed.

“Not about um, not about tonight right?” He asked, guilt hidden in the tremors of his voice.

Images of the past night filled y/n’s mind. Her brother being held under water, JJ pulling the gun out, the loud echoing sound of the firearm as it shot in the air. She could still hear it ringing slightly in her ears.

A small moment went by before she finally shook her head in denial, earning a small sigh of relief from the blond (at least that wasn’t his fault, he already felt guilty for so many things). “No, uh, no it wasn’t that,” she said, her voice barely audible.

JJ stared at her face in the golden light of this early morning. He noticed the blank stare in her eyes and frowned. Nightmares, although worrying for most people, were pretty common for y/n. JJ of course knew this, yet something felt odd.

He rested his hand on the small part of her back between her shoulder blades. “Do you want to talk about it?” She turned her head to meet his eyes, the feeling of his skin, warm and soft against hers sending small tingles at the base of her neck.

She didn’t want to bother him with her problems, she knew how horrible his home life was compared to what she was living. She didn’t want to remind him of this not make him feel bad about her small problems when he was facing such violence on a daily basis. Still, she knew JJ and talking about his dad was the last thing he wanted to do. And his eyes, his beautiful ocean blue eyes, it’s like they could see through her. How could she lie to him?

“I, uh I-I-“ his hand went to her shoulder and he squeezed it reassuringly. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.” Y/n felt her cheeks burning (hopefully he didn’t notice it). She took a moment to breathe in deeply the fresh air, calming herself slightly before putting her hand on his.

“No, I-I want to. I think it’ll help, in a way.” JJ cracked a sweet smile. “Alright then.”

“I keep having this one dream about my dad and I see him on his boat wandering. He’s lost in the middle of the ocean and he’s calling my name.” Saying those words, she really felt as though she could hear her father calling her name in the far distance, as if he was right beside her. Sadly, it was only her imagination playing tricks on her.

“And it keeps turning to this nightmare, where he dies in various horrible ways. Either drowned or starved or eaten by sharks.” JJ’s gaze softened, his eyes admiring her lips forming each words one after the other. “But tonight-“ she let go of his hand, shifting her body to face him completely, “-tonight, for a reason, I didn’t see him.”

“The boat was empty.”

Flashes of her nightmare came back to her like waves crashing on the beach. Her dad on his boat, a smile sketched on his lips. The sky is clear blue, not a cloud is in sight. There’s a warm breeze, she can almost feel it on her skin, and the sun is shining. It’s almost utopian, the perfect day to spend out in the sea.

Then the scene changes. The sky darkens to a deeper shade of blue, grey clouds towering the ocean. The wind is stronger, much stronger. It whistles as it makes its way in the crevices between each tree and threatens to tear the sails down. And the boat, she can see it floating hauntingly on the wild waves the same way a ghost would in abandoned castle. And there’s no trace of her father. Not even a feeling, that would tell her he’s there, trying to survive this storm.

“What if he really is gone J? What if my dad-“ she stopped her sentence to look at the horizon, somehow hoping to see a sign that would prove she was wrong. “I’m trying so hard to be positive and optimistic, but it’s been so long. What if he never comes back?”

The look in her eyes was heart-wrenching. JJ didn’t know what to say or do. He never really thought about it. What would happen if Big John was gone. To be honest he didn’t want to, that man was more of father to him than his own ever was. And losing him would be... he preferred not to think about it.

“I disagree,” he finally said. “What?” “Your dad is like one of the smartest person I’ve ever known. I think that, he, of all people would know how to get out of any situation, especially if it seems impossible to everyone else. I don’t think that you should give up on him yet.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes, I do,” he smiled. “So fuck everyone who tells you otherwise,“ y/n giggled. “Fuck all of them! You’re allowed to have hope, y/n, even after this much time. They can’t take that from you.”

“In the meantime, we’ll there’s us,” us, “the pogues, our own family. We can get through anything, right?”

“Yeah, we can.” Y/n’s head fell on his shoulder. “We’re the pogues.”

JJ admired her carefully. How her face looked, basked in the golden rays of the sun, looking so terribly tired and yet so beautiful. He could stay like this forever, losing himself completely in her smile. God she was so wonderful.

“Hey y/n/n?” “Yeah?” “Are you mad at me?” “Huh?”

“Why would I be ma- oh, oh.” The gun. He thought she was mad at him for what he did. Though he saved her brother, didn’t he? So, she didn’t understand why he would think she could hate him.

“It’s just that you looked so terrified when-” “You saved him JJ, that’s what matters most.” Y/n interrupted the boy mid sentence, placing her hand on his arm in gratitude. “If you hadn’t done anything, he could have...” she didn’t finish her sentence.

When she saw JJ holding the firearm against Topper’s head just a few hours ago, she had first been incredibly shocked. She didn’t recognize the JJ she knew. But now, she completely understood. It was his way of protecting his friends, his way of showing he cared. And that, she admired him for it. Though he could’ve shown it in a less dangerous way.

“I admit,” she added, “it was dangerous and a bit scary to see and we’re probably gonna get some kind of revenge from the kooks soon, but no one got hurt. And J.B, well he’s okay! We’re all okay!”

“Also, I’m pretty sure I did some very, very stupid things last night, so I can’t really be mad at you,” she cringed remembering the amount of alcohol influenced things she had said and done during the party. “God, I must have looked so ridiculous.”

JJ laughed at her comment. “Yes, yes you did.” “Man, John B was right, I can’t believe I’m saying this.”

“Can you just promise me something?” Asked y/n, once their laughter had died. “Depends what?”

“Promise me you’ll never hurt yourself with that thing, or anyone else for that matter.”

“I promise, y/n. ”

“Thank you.”

Taglist

@deionswannabegirl @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @poguestyle17 @im-a-stranger-thing @lasnaro @thoughtsofthestars @briandaflores19 @lunaposey @allycat449-blog @ifilwtmfc @kitty084 @coloradogirl07 @ponyboys-sunsets @chaoticbisous @p0gue420 @sloaneemily

If I forgot you or if you wanna be added/removed just tell me! Also I’m sorry if your name didn’t work :/