#because i felt like i didn't seem like an actual friend to them

[k0juki]

Good things take time

Joost Klein x fem!reader

English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! Also the pictures is not mine! Credit goes to owner! Not edited! Also BIG thanks to the @catherinewithu!! Couldn't do it without her.

Summary: If you promise something, you have to keep it. But even Joost makes a promise and doesn't keep it, just like you.

Warnings: alcohol, both sad y/n and Joost, mentions of sex but nothing is here!

A/n: I have mixed feelings about this xdd. Idk if it's happy ending...

Wc: 2.8k

---

Joost. Joost fucking Klein. That man was always very charming and he didn't even have to try. He was always the center of attention whereas you were just somewhere back, trying to fit in. Looking for your kind of people that lay back just like you. And if a year back someone would have said to you, that you're going to be in love with this man, you wouldn't believe them. Probably laugh in their face. You and Joost? Ha, you could never... could you?

He was the god of the party. Whenever he walked into a room, it was like the atmosphere shifted. People gravitated towards him, drawn by his effortless charm and infectious energy. He had this way of making everyone feel like they were the most important person in the world, even if just for a moment. Yeah, you know, Joost.

You and him met pretty easily, not in some grand, starstruck way, but through friends. It was at one of those low-key gatherings that start with a few people and end up with the entire social circle crammed into a living room. Joost was in his element, entertaining the crowd with stories and jokes. You watched him, intrigued by how natural it all seemed to him.

As the night went on, you and him somehow ended up in the same conversation circle. It wasn't long before you were chatting like old friends that have always known each other. He asked about your interests, your thoughts on music, movies, and life in general that night. And you found yourself opening up more than you usually did, his genuine interest made it easy.

Then, you started seeing each other more frequently. Your encounters were never planned, but always felt serendipitous. You ran into each other at the shop center, at friends' houses, and even at the grocery store. Each meeting felt natural, unforced, but then it wasn't just for talking and sharing stories. Now, you and Joost were friends, but with benefits. Of course you didn't mind at all at first. But after some time you wasn't so sure anymore. At first it was just because of some release. But after some time, you started to feel some...things.

Then came the night of this unforgettable party. You didn't want to come here at all, but your friend, f/n, she promised it's going to be just for a few hours and that Joost is going to be here as well. Maybe, that's why you actually agreed to go here. She knew about you and Joost, and how you actually felt about him. But she promise to not say anything.

Joost was, as usual, the center of attention. But this time, at this party, it felt different. Every time your eyes met across the room, there was a spark, a silent understanding that something was shifting between you and him. You watched him laugh, dance, and engage with everyone, yet somehow, it felt like he was always aware of where you were and what you were doing, of who you were speaking with and when you looked at him.

It was like sixth sense.

It started to get hot here, or maybe it was just the alcohol that flowed through your blood. Either way, you needed some fresh air, so you excused yourself from your friend that was just as tipsy as you and you made your way out by the back door that went to the garden. There wasn't anyone, but it wasn't so surprising. Whole party was thrown inside because of the cooler weather.

Enjoying the muffled sounds of a party in the house behind you, you were startled when you felt someone's hand on your hip.

"Hey, hey, easy here. It's just me."

Joost.

"You scared me for life." Turning your head to look at him, you notice how his pupils were big.

"I'm sorry princess, I will try not to scare you away from me." You laughed it off. He was definitely a teaser. It was in his nature, to make people laugh, to forget everything, to enjoy their time with him.

"What are you doing here so alone, hm?" He whispered in the cold night and ran his hand that he had on your hip up and down. To warm you a bit. "It's cold out here."

"I know, but I needed some fresh air. I couldn't breathe in there." You said and pointed back at the house. Leaning your head on his shoulder you closed your eyes, but the drinks that your friend made you drink with her were a little bit stronger for your liking, so whenever you closed your eyes you felt the whole world spin, just like right now.

"Yeah, you're right." Joost put his chin on the top of your head after he kissed it, just as you relaxed in his hold. You always enjoyed his presence, but it wasn't just because of his personality, it was because he made you feel things that you believed that were never there. He was different, he made you feel different. Like no-one else before had. He lifted his hand from your hip and placed it on your arm, "You're cold." he said and raised his head for yours.

"It's nothing." You chuckled, "I will manage." you tried to assure him, but your skin was really ice cold.

"Yeah, in bed with a fever tomorrow morning. Come on, let's get inside." He took your hand in his and together you made your way to the house. He let you go in first, holding the door open for you like a true gentleman he is with a smile on his face. "Lady's first."

You returned his smile, never letting go of his hand. It wasn't strange for you to hold his hand and kiss here and there, but you weren't together, it made some people questioned your real relationship. But what they didn't know was that you and Joost have been sleeping with each other from time to time. And you had to admit, you were totally scared of your future with him.

He doesn't feel love. He never felt that way. You knew it because before you and him started to sleep together, you and him made a promise to not catch feelings, it's just gonna be about a sex. Nothing more, nothing less. And you knew you had crossed that line, but you couldn't tell him anything. That would ruin everything, it would have ruined you. So you swallowed your feelings and told yourself to not, ever, let or somehow show your feelings for him. Even though it hurts you.

"I need to find f/n. She's somewhere here and I need to stop her from doing something stupid." You told Joost and he actually laughed at that because he knew her and what she was capable of.

"That sounds like a good idea. I will be in the living room if you want to look for me after you find her." Joost winked at you with smug on his pretty face and left you here standing with red cheeks. No matter how many times he had flirted with you, you always gave in and let his charm affect you.

---

It took you some time to find f/n, but you also have found some other friends that were looking after her as well. They were leaving and told you they are taking f/n home too.

"Noo, Y/n I don't wanna go home." f/n pouted and hugged you before others basically dragged her off of you.

"You have to. I will text you in the morning, okay?"

She protested, but eventually gave in. Leaving the party and looking forward to your text when you will be leaving.

You went to the kitchen and poured yourself a drink, not so strong this time and then you started looking for another person, Joost. But he already told you where he's going to be. Making your way through bodies to the living room, you greeted some faces you recognised. Sending friendly smiles and little waves. But just as you stepped to the living room, you couldn't help the shock that went thru you.

He was sitting here with some girl. No, the girl was sitting on his lap and what was even worse, they were making out. How his left hand was running through her hair and how his other hand was on her waist, keeping her closer, just like he did before with you. All you could do was watch the scene before you.

"Y/n?" Joost's voice was barely making any sense, but he knew that was you who he was kissing right now. He was so sure of it.

"Actually I'm Mila."

"You're not Y/n? My Y/n?"

"I can be her, if that's what you want."

"You're not her?" Joost asked the girl that he assumed was you, but she pulled him back to kiss her. He wasn't complaining, but he was hoping that was you who he was kissing right now and not some random chick.

When they pulled away to breathe, Joost looked around the room and saw you standing in the back with a shocked face and how it, in a matter of seconds, turned into a pained expression. That was the real you. You weren't sitting in his lap right now.

What were you thinking?

It hurt. It all hurt so much. You really thought he felt something for you, just like you did for him. But you were wrong, so, so wrong. "Y/n?" His words were slurred. "C'mon it was just for fun, you know that right?"

Drunk words are sober thoughts.

You heard him say somewhere towards you in his now drunk state, you couldn't even properly look at him, all you could do in that moment was to turn around and leave. On your way out of the house, you passed by people that gave you this kind of sympathy look. Did they think you and him were together too? You weren't, and he made that crystal clear.

"Y/N!" He was calling for you to stop, but you didn't. "Y/n! Can you stop for a second?!"

"What!? What is it Joost!?" You turned to him, stopping in your tracks. Barely holding tears in your eyes.

"What's wrong with you?!" Joost almost shouted, but held himself back because of other people near you two.

"What is wrong with me?" You had to ask. "With me?"

"Yeah, you're acting like I fucked that girl right infront of you, and even if I did, we're not together so it doesn't matter."

"I can't believe this." You avoided eye contact with him. "I'm such an idiot." Whispering, you looked down, letting the tears freely fall.

"What? So it's mine fault?"

"No it's mine."

An awkward silence was between you two.

Joost sighed looking down and put his hands on his hips. "Look Y/n, let's just get inside, get some drinks and forget about it. It wasn't that big of a deal anyway." He insisted and took a few steps towards you, trying to reach for you, but you backed down. You turned back around and said.

"Yeah, you're right, it's not that big of a deal anyway."

With that, you made your way home.

---

That was two days ago, and from that time you felt like shit. You barely slept and eating food was bad too. F/n was worried about you, she insisted on talking to him, herself or you. But everytime she threatened, you told her to stop. That you're going to deal with it by yourself. She stopped after that.

Two fucking days.

Your phone was blowing with missed calls and hundreds of unread texts from Joost, but you didn't want to talk to him. Not right now. His words still hurt you. "It's not that big of deal anyway." Yes, you promised something to each other, but his words hunt you.

As you laid in your bed and re-thinking every detail of that night, soft knocking brought you out of your head. At first you didn't want to get up and answer, if it's important then they will try it later.

But the soft knocking was getting louder and more annoying. You slowly got up and made your way to the door. Ready to scream on anyone that was behind them.

"Y/n?"

That made you stop in your tracks. Joost? What was he doing here? You didn't want him near you at all. That's why you distanced everyone.

"Y/n, open the door."

His knocking stopped and you saw his shadow under the door and how he was stepping from one side to another.

"Open the door. Please."

Joost begged. And that's something you never heard from him before. Part of you wanted to let him in and hug him, but the other not at all.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said that night." You heard him say behind the door. Him still waiting for you to open to him.

"You didn't say anything wrong. Only truth." You muttered on the other side.

"Yeah, but..." He sighed and leaned his head on the door. Closing his eyes for a moment before speaking again. "You didn't deserve that."

That made you cry. He was right, you didn't deserve it like that.

"I hear you cry." He lifted his head from the door and tried to open them again. "Please don't cry."

"You made me look so fucking stupid." You cried more. "I thought...I thought that we-"

"I'm sorry."

You took the handle and slowly opened the door, letting that awkward silence spread all around you and him.

"What do you want from me?" You finally asked as your eyes were red and swollen from crying for the past two days. Just like his.

"I don't know." He admitted. "Probably everything..."

"That's a lot."

"I know I want you in my life." He began. "I'm scared that if I told you how I feel, you're going to leave me like everyone else."

"And why would I do that?"

He didn't say anything to that. Like you had caught him off of guard. But that didn't mean that you felt any better. You wouldn't admit it, but you didn't feel better.

"My heart always seems to be disappointed." You admitted quietly, letting it sink in. "Maybe it was made just to be shattered into thousands pieces."

"No, no, don't say that. It's not the truth, you don't believe that." His eyes were pleasing yours to say otherwise, but he didn't find what he was looking for in them. "Do you?"

"What if I believe in that?"

Now you were more scared of his silence than your damaged heart. Is this it? Is this the very end of yours and Joosts path?

"Are you going to say something?"

"I'm sorry." He stepped closer and opened the door fully. "I'm sorry that I hurt you, I don't know what I was doing...I was drunk a-and I know that it doesn't change anything, but I'm still so sorry and I need you to know it." He kneeled before you and hugged your waist. Trapping you in his hold.

"Joost." You didn't know what to say. Or what to do at that moment.

"I love you." He breathed out. "I don't want you to disappear from my world, because you are my world."

You stopped breathing for a moment. He loves you? Joost loves you? From all of the people he knows and ever met, he loves you?

"I need you to know how I feel." Joost admitted and held your legs tighter. "I should have said that sooner."

---

A/n: I could do better.

Don't copy or translate my work!

[sophieinwonderland]

Do you ever feel worn down by all the hate sysmeds perpetuate? I tend to have a problem with seeing the world as rather dystopian because of all the systemic badness in our society that seems to have no end in sight.

Sysmeds have such a chokehold on the discussion and pluralphobic singlets seem to be more plentiful than ones that aren't.

I know we're on the right side of history, I mean look a how transmedicalism was dismantled. (Sysmeds can whine all they want. There are similarities to trans issues and system issues when it comes to how sysmeds handle the discussion. This is said by a trans system. 😘😜)

Anyways, it just feels like there's no light at the end of the tunnel to turn the tides. Anywas, just some random thoughts. Thank you for reading.

Sometimes. But I don't think the dystopian view of society is fair. I mean, yes, things aren't ideal. But they generally are trending towards acceptance.

In 1977, Only 44% of people thought lesbian and gay people should be allowed to be hired as doctors. By 2019, this number rose to 91%!

Only 27% said they should be elementary school teachers.

Now that's 81%.

Only 14% said they should be allowed to adopt children compared to 77% saying they shouldn't.

Now that number is 75% to 23%

Progress happens slowly, and I'll admit that being on the right side of history is a small consolation to the people living through history.

But... I really do think we're going to be seeing progress for plurality snowballing.

As for the anti-endos... you look at the anti-endo venting blogs and the like, and you can see the seams starting to tear. You can see the anxiety in anti-endos at having mutuals turn to pro-endos. Or having their own therapists supporting endogenic systems.

When I first got to this website, the anti-endos felt in control. They had built up these powerful convictions. Their stranglehold over the community felt so strong.

Many of those have become pro-endo or at least neutral.

And now... these younger anti-endos here feel scared and desperate.

They complain that their servers are kicking them, about losing friends, about losing their "safe spaces." They've had to make multiple "safe space" blogs to house their hate because their bigotry isn't being accepted anywhere else.

I saw an undiagnosed anti-endo not too long ago complaining that their own older sibling, who was a diagnosed DID system, was pro-endo. And they whined to the vent blog anonymously that they didn't think they could "educate" their sibling on why endos are supposedly bad.

On top of all of that is the refusal to actually engage with the other side. While we're dropping sources left and right, they're hiding behind the block button every time someone presents them facts that contradict their worldview.

Anti-endos aren't going to admit it, but the sense I get from their community, at least on this site, is one that's desperately huddling together and clinging to their beliefs and hate while the rest of the world moves past them more and more each and every day.

We still have a long way to go.

But progress is happening constantly and our future is plural!

[bethanydelleman]

Bingley was at fault too.....

Bingley's "modesty" is mostly just the result of Darcy's bad influence on him . Darcy said it himself; Bingley kept relying on him so much because it made life for him easier, he knows that he's impulsive and instead of dealing with his flaws, he just relies on Darcy to check him. He knew Jane loved him and the only effect that Jane acting like a lady should act is simply him not knowing how much she liked him, he knew love was there. And because Darcy thought she did not , he decided that she does not love him after all.

Both Darcy and Bingley are irresponsible; Darcy knew Bingley falls out of love all the time and yet he did not think that Jane might form a serious attachment because of his advances. He only cares about Bingley because it's HIS friend not out of a desire to help others.

Bingley hits on Jane immediately and courts her in front of everyone ; then left her after knowing everyone was expecting marriage ; if he wanted to leave, at least he shouldn't make it seem like he was running away from her, this might affect her reputation . I know he had planned to return but Darcy convinced not to; but he should at least claim an excuse that had nothing to do with Jane so he would not embarass her.

I disagree with most of what you are saying here. I don't think Bingley could have possibly been that confident or known that Jane loved him.

Elizabeth admits that Jane is hard to read and no one would have been entirely sure of her love:

He declared himself to have been totally unsuspicious of her sister’s attachment; and she could not help remembering what Charlotte’s opinion had always been. Neither could she deny the justice of his description of Jane. She felt that Jane’s feelings, though fervent, were little displayed, and that there was a constant complacency in her air and manner, not often united with great sensibility.

And also, Jane & Bingley don't spend a ton of time together in the two months that Bingley is at Netherfield. This is not modern dating:

“Perhaps he must, if he sees enough of her. But though Bingley and Jane meet tolerably often, it is never for many hours together; and as they always see each other in large mixed parties, it is impossible that every moment should be employed in conversing together. Jane should therefore make the most of every half hour in which she can command his attention. When she is secure of him, there will be leisure for falling in love as much as she chooses.”

I think you are greatly overestimating how well Bingley would understand Jane's heart. He can't ask if she likes him either, it's all about subtle encouragement. We don't know what Darcy and his sisters said to him, but I can see how someone would be persuaded that Jane didn't actually love him. I think modesty is one of Bingley's strengths, not a fault. And, he's also not as persuadable as people sometimes say, we see him stand up to both his sisters and Darcy.

Mrs. Bennet said that Jane was ill-used, but she doesn't suffer any reputation damage. Mrs. Gardiner basically says, "These things happen" and moves on. We have no evidence at all that it hurt Jane in any way except emotionally. Also, Bingley & Jane don't act like Marianne & Willoughby or Wentworth & Louisa, we do not hear that everyone who saw them expected an engagement. It did not go that far. It was a fervent hope, not an honour-bound expectation. It was also a lot of Mrs. Bennet telling everyone that it would happen.

Darcy was wrong, but after the Bennets' display of vulgarity at the ball, he thought he was doing the right thing for his friend. Was he biased? Yes, the narrator tells us so, but that doesn't mean he was irresponsible. If Bingley hadn't been truly in love, he would have been doing the right thing.

That said, both Bingley and Darcy do have flaws, but Bingley is young and being impulsive when you're 23 and filthy rich isn't that bad. Darcy protecting his friend isn't a flaw, though his reasoning wasn't without bias. And I'm sure he does often have a good influence on Bingley.

[divine-donna]

jealousy jealousy

a request: "hey! I wanted to make a request for a Tashi Duncan fanfic <3 a headcanon, about Tashi and reader being friends and playing tennis together, but reader is chubby and insecure a about her body, she feels a little jealous of Tashi and the other girls that play tennis and feels guilty about it. Tashi is secretly in love with her, at first reader can't really accept because she can't believe someone would be in love with her. Can you do female reader?"

this is going to be one of those rare occasions where i will be more specific about a reader's appearance and gender. something i also think is important is that i tend to imagine my reader as not white. so this does bleed into these head canons. if that's too serious for you, you're better off not following me.

pairing: tashi duncan x chubby! fem! reader

for vibes: "jealousy jealousy" by olivia rodrigo

context: stanford 2007

word count: 1.8k words

Love cannot exist without Envy.

When you love someone, to some extent you envy that person. There's something they have that you envy. That is what you grew up believing and that is the worldview of love that you were left with. On top of your mother telling you that girls like you do not receive the flowers, guitars, and romantic rescues that all the rom-com heroines you watched had.

Your favorite romantic comedies were My Big Fat Greek Wedding, 10 Things I Hate About You, and Love Actually–the third being more of a guilty pleasure. The only movie that came close to representing a girl like you, with your body type, was My Big Fat Greek Wedding. That was the right kind of rom-com, the one where the woman didn't need to change herself. She just developed confidence and scored the guy of her dreams.

Unfortunately, real life was not as kind as the movies.

"You can't quit tennis!"

"What makes you say that?" You play with your food, poking the fettuccine alfredo with chicken recipe you cooked up for the both of you. You were craving something creamy this time of night. And Tashi was too.

"You just can't. You're amazing. Why would you quit? With talent like yours, it seems like such a waste to just quit." Tashi had already finished her plate.

"It was fun while it lasted. But I don't see myself doing it."

"Bullshit (Y/N)." You could never look at her when you lied.

Tashi recalls the first time she saw you play. It was the day after her own match. And you were pure fire. Your strokes were quick, most of your serves unreturnable. She felt bad for your opponent because you never gave her a chance. Instead, you decimated her. In short, you were a phenomenon. Someone like herself.

You two played the next day. Tashi won, but she never felt such a thrill, such a surge of adrenaline. You were the only opponent she's played so far to have her respect and friendship. You were great. And she wished the world could see what she saw.

Your passion for tennis rivaled Tashi's. It was your purpose in life. It was the perfect sport for you to destress yourself to, hitting balls and rallying yourself against the walls in the public park. You wanted to achieve that envious Grand Slam career title. You wanted to continue in tennis. You didn't want to quit.

"Is it those assholes again?"

You look up at Tashi. You both dealt with your share of racism. But you had an extra pile of shit thrown on top of you. People say all the time that chubby people can't play tennis. And it didn't help that among the players of your generation, you were the only one with a body size bigger than a 14. Being both non-white and chubby only made the vitriol worse and the interpersonal competition harsher.

"Come on. You can't listen to them." Tashi sets down the pasta bowl. You painted it for her that one time you guys decided to try pottery painting. She takes a sip of water from the mug you gifted her. And the cherry on top was that she was wearing one of your shirts. You left it at her house when you slept over.

"That's easy for you to say." You set your plate down.

A frown forms on her face. You don't like it when Tashi frowns. "(Y/N)..."

"It's all they talk about." Your eyes rake over her figure. Thin arms. A limber, slender body. Athletic with the right muscle balance so she didn't seem like too much of an athlete. She was model material, Tashi Duncan. And that's why all the offers came rolling in for her. All the brand deals, all the money. And you were instead left with scraps, still wrapping duct tape around the handle of your dad's Wilson racket. Relying on the graciousness of Tashi Duncan when you were in a tough spot. She bought you new shoes in time for the U.S. Open this year because your old ones had holes and were worn down. You hated relying on her. You hated that she always insisted you didn't need to pay her back. Your company was enough.

Your love was enough.

"What's the point in playing tennis if no one is going to talk about me playing tennis!" You raise your voice out of frustration. You were so angry that you could throw the plate at the wall and break it. "All everyone wants to talk about is how fat I am and that fat girls don't belong in tennis! It's not going anywhere! No one but you sees my potential. And my family and I have been losing money! It's too costly. Stanford didn't even take me for tennis." You were accepted for your brains. Not for your true passion. It wasn't worth investing in tennis when you were getting nothing in return. Nothing but racist, fatphobic vitriol that continued to wear you down every day.

"And that's why you should continue to play. You need to prove them wrong!" Tashi keeps her voice steady. "You prove them wrong, then they can't say shit."

You wanted to believe her. But you knew the truth. You weren't Tashi Duncan. You could never be Tashi Duncan. Only girls like Tashi Duncan and Irina Petrovska got the brand deals, got the fame, got the money.

Only girls like them got to continue their passion and turn it into a career.

"Proving them wrong won't do them anything. At this point I'm just...a circus pig." Your voice drops, but Tashi can hear what you said.

"You're not a circus pig."

"That's easy for you to say! You're...You're fucking perfect! You're the face of tennis! You're who people think of when someone brings up the term tennis player. Not me! You. I'm not meant to be on the court."

"Don't say that. Don't. Say. That." Desperation bleeds into Tashi's voice as she looks at you. "Do you remember what we agreed on during that after party? After our match?"

Your lack of a response tells her that you do. "We're going up there. Together. Next year. Doubles. Me and you. We're going to take over the world." Her fingers tap against the table. "You can't quit! You promised you would play with me! You promised you would. And we always keep our promises."

"Well maybe I'm fed up. Maybe I'm just done with it all." You sip your water. "Proving them wrong only seems to enhance the insults I get! It only makes things worse for me! And it only hurts you!"

"Why would it hurt me?" Tashi is in disbelief.

"Because I'm someone you shouldn't associate with. I shouldn't be playing with you! I don't deserve to! I'm a terrible friend!" Your voice cracks. "I am so jealous of you Tashi. All the time. There's always this sick twisting in my stomach. And you deserve everything that you've gotten but I can't help but feel that some of it should go to me! But it doesn't because I'm the fat one! And no one wants to see a fat girl in an Adidas ad. And it's not fair to you because you didn't do anything! And I don't deserve to be friends with you or even play against your because I'm a terrible person!"

She doesn't respond. She's too busy looking at you, watching the way your face contorts with emotion, the way your tears fall from your eyes. It was like you were unloading everything.

Tashi hated seeing you cry.

"You can't quit tennis."

You look at her with shock. Is that all she could say after everything you dumped on her?

You expected her to fume, to lash out. Or maybe to tell you to go kill yourself. She's done her fair share of that to people. And yet, all she can tell you is that you can't quit tennis.

"You still somehow managed to make this about tennis."

Tashi leans forward, her hand taking yours. She enjoys the feeling of your soft skin. You always took great care of your skin, moisturizing constantly. If she needed some cream to moisturize her dried out hands, she could always ask you. You had so much in your purse. She could smell that lavender cream you used. Some said it was the scent only old people picked. But she found herself craving that lavender smell late at night in her bed.

"I understand...everything...you're saying. Remember that time we were talking? About how we both envy white girls and their opportunities and their easy life and their ability to get away with everything on the court." She remembers the thinly veiled racist remarks fired at the both of you when you were playing against white opponents. The rage she felt but couldn't exercise because letting her emotions run free would only make her the angry Black woman and they would instead penalize her.

"Tashi-"

"I don't hold it against you. That's...the way the game is right now." The both of you were playing a white man's sport. Unfortunately, this was the reality.

"It's...stupid. And ridiculous. You shouldn't even be friends with me!"

"(Y/N), I love you."

Your breath hitches in your throat. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Tashi Duncan...loves you? Even after everything you confessed? You wanted to say so many things, wanted to tell her that she was wrong to love you. She couldn't love you and shouldn't love you.

"Why?" is all you managed to muster out.

Her eyes soften. "I..." There were so many reasons why. Your laugh. Your determination. The way you ran your fingers through her hair when she laid her head on your lap. How soft you were. Your hugs. Your lips. Those unreturnable serves of yours. The way your skirts would hike up those thick thighs of yours. That serving tick of yours where you would tap the ball against the edge of your racket three times.

Her heart sinks when you pull your hand out of hers and stand up from your seat. You needed to take a walk. You needed to think for a minute.

"(Y/N)..." Tashi stands up to follow after you. She grabs your wrist and you turn around to look at her.

"Tashi...I don't...I don't deserve you-"

She leans forward, pressing her lips against yours harshly. You're shocked by the sudden feeling, taking a step backwards into the wall. Tashi cups your face with both of her hands, keeping you there. She pulls away, watching your face to see if you would react in any way. "(Y/N)..."

You close the gap between you two once more and place your hands on her waist, slowly guiding her to the bed as she gets lost in the smell of lavender.

[sunny-mercya]

Sandcastles

James Maguire x Male Reader

Fandom -> Derry Girls

Masterlist

James didn't thought much about it, when Michelle—his one and only beloved Cousine from Northern Irlands Derry—said to him, that he wouldn't be the only lad in their school and Squad.

James thought, it could be much worse—like being in all Boys school, where they probably gonna torment him, like a football, because of his english upbringing—than being in Michelle's girls squad—or actually, that's what his Aunt said, because James thought he could handle himself just fine in a all boy school—but Aunts, like mothers, like to worry over their children.

When stepping out of the bus and onto the grounds of Our Lady Immaculate College—a mouthful of a name—James did his best to look like a toughen up boy, acting chilling cool, like the lads from the 60's—because they had some style, but with his school uniform it doesn't really brought out what he intended to look like—still, James hold his chin high.

The girls just all giggled at him, pointing their fingers—and James felt silly now, just a little, but he doesn't stop in his act.

»Ya really look stupid, ya know that asshat? Stop with yer acting of being some lad. Yer an embarrassment for me.« Michelle scolds, slapping him good on the arm and a scornful expression adorns her makeup'd face.

James wouldn't tell a soul—because Michelle would kill him—but Michelle without makeup looks like a different person.

»Well, I'm the only boy here, in a herd full of girls, what am I supposed to do then?«

»No yer ain't. I told ya, yer won't be the only lad. I told ya about [Name], didn't I? So, would ya stop with yer nonsense fucking whining.«

»I thought you meant that as a sort of joke, with that [Name] person....«

James flinched when Michelle turned to him in a flash—anger radiating off her like a heater and her grimace of a expression, was unsettling.

Erin and Clare stared at him, brows raised and looking rather offended—and Orla? Orla stepped a good foot away from him, as if he just had said something unpleasant.

»I'm sorry?« James didn't know why he apologised, but he felt as he should—only because he doesn't want to be Michelle's punching bag for the rest of the day.

»Yer better be asshat! Don't dare say such mean things about [Name] again! He's a precious friend and we ain't gonna hesitate to punch anyone who talks shit about him. This includes you as well.« Erin ranted, Orla just nodding along with her candy.

James rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly—great, he thought.

»POP-TARTS! MY FAVOURITE GIRLS! HELLO!«

The girls turned away from James, Michelle squatting down like a sports player—ready to catch whomever just shouted this.

James looked over Orla's shoulder, seeing a boy—this must be this [Name] lad, Michelle was talking about, James concluded—sprinting over to them and right into Michelle's arms, who she hugged tightly and spins him around like a rag-doll.

Once Michelle had sat [Name] down—squishing his cheeks in a greeting, before releasing him completely from her clutches—he turned to James.

[Name] had been all excited this whole morning, to finally meet Michelle Cousin and now, when the time has come—[Name] couldn't help himself but to grin brighter than ever and pulling the other boy into a welcoming hug.

»Welcome to Derry and Our Lady'a College! It'a nice to finally meet ya James!«

And James thought, this [Name] lad was rather weird—and God forbid, the girls hear his offending thoughts.

~~~

It's summer now—temperatures have risen, weather mostly pleasant, suns brighter and longer out—the long holidays had started and James didn't believed he would survive a whole year in Derry—but he did and he's ready to, excited even, for his next upcoming years in Derry.

What James also didn't believed—and thinking back to this year schools beginning, it truly seemed unlikely to happen—that [Name] and him would befriend one another, but they did.

Although, if James being honest—but he never would dare to tell either the girls and especially not [Name]—he was a bit reluctant to even talk with [Name] at all, after all his way of speaking and how he is—his little habits and other personality traits aspects—were just a tiny bit off putting for James.

»I'mma ella looking forward to our small summer trip! Dad brought me'a this'a ella cool sand scooping and bucket set. James, Orla we're gonna build some Sandcastles, don'tcha we?« [Name] rambles in excitement, finishing of Michelles hairstyling—which were just two buns and some hairclips, Michelle could've done this with ease, but always letting [Name] doing it, because she knows how much her friend loves to do it—and plopping down next to James on the bed.

Normally they would've meet up at Erin's house, but Mary was doing some grand cleaning and shooed them away instantly once she saw them—so now, they're all at [Name]'s, scooped up in his room, which James had been in many times.

Orla agrees in a heartbeat to [Name]'s sandcastle idea, starting to ramble excitingly about decorations and when Michelle looks at James expectantly, he just shrugs his shoulders.

»It's alright to do, I suppose.« he says, letting [Name] do what he was about to do—putting some real girly, all coloured in pink and purple and blue with stars and other ornaments on it, hairclips into his curly hair.

»Ya don't wanna build with us Sandcastles? But Dad even brought a second scooper, in green, becausa I'mma told him to do, becausa yer like green and I'mma ella wanna build little tiny castle of sandy sand with ya and like—«

»Yes! Yes I love to build Sandcastles with you and Orla! I promise you [Nickname] I really do and I even will bring some tiny flags, okay? Yeah, alright.« James cuts his friend off, arm going around his shoulder and pulling [Name] in for a hug—the (hair.c) laid his head down onto James shoulder, hands reaching for James and playing with his fingers.

James had once asked, during dinner, his Aunt—she's a nurse, she probably knows better than Michelle or Erin, who would punch him blue and purple if he dared to utter his questions, especially such sensitive personal ones, about [Name]—if there might be something, medical wise, wrong with [Name]—because his friend had a weird way of speaking and overall just not really being “normal”.

Michelle was close that night to scream more than just profanities at James, but her mother hold her off and explained calmly to James—that yes, mental wise, there is something wrong with [Name].

And when James asked for an elaboration—he wanted to know, otherwise how he should know how to help [Name] in whatever dry situation may occur, if he doesn't know what's wrong—his Aunt, thankfully, had given him the short story—and reprimanded Michelle not to get always so protective angry over [Name], when someones being curious about him.

It took a bit of time to figure out [Name]'s speech pattern and what he was trying to say at all, but James manages quite good—and could proudly disclaims himself as [Name]'s Translator.

»You do James? You really do?« Michelle crossed her arms, questionable raising her eyebrows at James—not believing him in the slightest, because her dear english cousin did actually once forget a promise to [Name] and boy of the lord, was her friend heartbroken about it.

»Yes, Michelle. I do. Here by I, James, declare my promise to [Name] and Orla, that I will bring tiny flags and build a great sandcastle.«

»My knightly knight James!« [Name] moved, albeit a bit harshly, away from James hold—giving a big smooch on the cheek—before jumping from his bed and taking Orla by hand and shouting down the stairs to his dad if the cake is ready for devouring.

James lips quirked into a smile, he really wouldn't mind another kiss from his prince.

[ikkan]

people on dating apps...stop putting negative things about yourself in your bio

saying “i’m boring”, “i’m lame”, “i’m garbage”, “i’m a mess”, etc. is not going make people want swipe onto you. it’s mostly likely gonna do the total opposite. they’re gonna see your negative energy and avoid you at all costs.

not saying you can’t be dealing with insecurities, but throwing them onto a dating profile is not the best thing to do in my opinion

[thedreadvampy]

sometimes I forget that my experience has been. um. not 'your experiences are not universal' vibes but more like 'your experiences are EXTREMELY atypical'

[naturecalls111]

Wish I never had to sleep I wish I could just stay awake all the time and do nothing but draw and had no responsibilities

[fluffykitteninabox]

me at 15 reading about ocd on the internet: oh that sounds like a nightmare I don't think I could live like that, so glad I definitely don't have it

me getting diagnosed 7 years later:

[fideidefenswhore]

[Henry] had asked Lady Shelton whether Mary [was] persisting in her obstinancy. Hearing that she was, Henry became certain that she was being encouraged by secret communication from Katharine. Lady Shelton thought the only possible messenger was Mary's chamber woman. In this she was correct. The maid had been smuggling letters in and out. She was dismissed, as was Mary's confessor, to be replaced by one whom Chapuys characterised as 'Lutheran'.

The King’s Pearl: Henry VIII & His Daughter Mary, Melita Thomas

[vegaseatsass]

I'm so exhausted I don't really know where or how to begin my one-day weekend, have spent the day just kind of collapsed into executive dysfunctional confusion when what I WANT to do is post on tumblr about gay tv

[trashbaget]

[weaselle]

had an interaction with a cat at my mother's friend's house (we dropped by to feed her while my mom's friend was out of town) and my mother said "i was surprised how much that cat liked you, she doesn't usually let people pet her but she followed you around and let you pet her a lot"

and in explaining to her my interaction with the cat i put into words a thing i'd never put into words before, having always automatically understood what i was doing. But once i put it into words my mother said she'd never thought of that and it felt like something worth sharing here.

This cat did a typical cat thing where she sniffed my fingers i was holding out, and then acted like she wanted me to pet her, but then when i started to move to pet her, moved her head away slightly to prevent it.

I instinctively understand this interaction, and stopped trying to pet her and moved back to a neutral position and waited to see if she would re-initiate an interaction.

Because this is basically a consent test. This is how a cat can assess "how closely are you paying attention to what i'm telling you" and "how respectful of my boundaries are you".

If i am responsive to her yes/no game, moving to pet her when she indicates i can, stopping immediately when she seems to change her mind, then she knows she can trust me to understand her, and also to respect her choices. That's what i did, so then she knew she could trust me and relax around me and enjoy my company. She was actually a very friendly and social little cat, who clearly wanted to make friends with me.

But if i had insisted on trying to pet her when she seemed to change her mind instead of simply understanding that she didn't want to be pet in that moment, she would have known she couldn't trust me to understand or respect her, and she would have treated me like she has to treat 90% of the people who visit that house, evidently.

I work mostly with dogs these days, but i grew up with cats too, and am generally good with animals. Many shy animals will also do this same "sniff sniff okay touch me nope just kidding" routine, especially if they've had experiences with people that make establishing that kind of communication and trust important to them.

And in fact, a lot of animals will do some version of this kind of consent test in a whole variety of situations. When well socialized dogs do that thing where they are rough housing and then they both stop suddenly for a moment until one of them play bows or makes a little pouncing motion and then they fly back into rough housing mode, that's what they are doing, they are doing a consent check-in, like "whoah this is getting wild, are you still in? are we still playing, is this still a good time for you?"

anyway, that's why this lovely little cat followed me around asking me to pet her the whole time we were visiting that house, because i showed her that i understood her signals and respected her boundaries, which is something i see a lot of both men and women not doing when interacting with cats and dogs.

[evangelifloss]

Thinking about a certain scene in Dungeon Meshi that completely encapsulates the Autistic experience of making friends as an adult and how hard it is to try and navigate it without ending up getting hurt.

Like IDK about y'all, but this is a common problem ALOT of Autistic Adults face when trying to make friends with other people, because unlike children who aren't good at keeping their opinions to themselves, Adults ARE. In society, we're even encouraged to "keep the peace" "be polite" and etc, which commonly leads to awful scenarios as shown above when Laois finds out his buddy has come to resent who Laois is without actually telling him. All too often the friends that we love to hang out with, people that we're so happy to spend time with, don't feel the same way and in many cases, come to blame us for our social cues or lack thereof.

And when/if we do eventually find out how our friend feels, Dungeon Meshi hits us with another painful panel of how that usually ends up playing out.

It's hard for Adults with Autism to make friends, and even harder to maintain them because alot of the ways Neurotypicals tell other Neurotypicals that they don't like a certain behavior is by quietly disengaging. Whether that involves having one sentence answers, going quiet, or having a certain tone in their voice, all those things signal annoyance or disapproval, but for the Neurodivergents, those subtle cues are completely missed.

And yet when we inevitably discover we DID do something, it is natural to ask "well why didn't you tell me?" because in our minds, it should've been the next step in the equation. However for the Neurotypicals, that's NOT something to bring up. Its important to be SUBTLE about the issue at hand and rely on signals to tell the other person. Blame is placed on us for not noticing the "obvious" signs of disapproval rather than the idea of talking it out as such things are uncomfortable and harder to do. Alot of the time what ends up happening is resentment due to the idea that it was "obvious" and the fact one didn't notice indicates a deliberate ignorance rather than a complete unawareness. It ends up calling into question our quality as a person and our sincerity. We get called "fake" or "malicious" or even "stupid" for failing social cues rather than questioning the decision to be indirect and vague.

For a manga about exploring the dungeon, it seems that the artist would rather explore very real and prevalent dynamics in society with the adventuring premise as a backdrop. I felt VERY seen in these panels, and many others, because it happens so suddenly and dare I say it, plainly. There's no dramatic build-up or spectacle made and in essence, it just Happens.

I think that's what makes the scene hit even harder. It seemingly comes out of nowhere for Laois, like how it always comes out of nowhere for alot of people, and it's never a dramatic twist either. It's always mundane and hurtful. A sudden unforeseen bump in the road that ends up calling into question one's entire friendship with someone and consequent other friendships. It asks "what if other friends feel the same. What if the people that I really like actually hate me and I don't know it?" Or at least that's what I came away with after reading the chapter. I've been where Laois was and the only reason I'm not there now is because I lost the naivete I had and doubt everyone else's sincerity.

[inkskinned]

so while i was writing the book, i became violently suicidal.

this was mostly due to the fact that i had a very bad reaction to some meds and my brain stopped producing any serotonin. also i was in the last semester of grad school where it's actually illegal to feel anything but dread. so it wasn't going well.

somewhere in the fog of it i became aware i needed help. nobody was taking clients or my insurance. i didn't want to do inpatient care - it wasn't right for my needs. there's not really an "in between" stage between "inpatient" and "no care," but i was trying to do the right thing. i was trying to activate the chain of command that was my emergency plan. i knew i needed help now.

i used betterhelp.

i know, i know. i'm a straight-A student and so smart and so clever, how could i ever use something so blatantly bad. to be honest with you, i didn't feel particularly keen on it from the getgo - things that seem too good to be true usually are. also, if something online is free, the price is usually your privacy.

the thing is that there was kind of a global pandemic happening at the time and i worked 5 jobs alongside of being a fulltime student and also like writing a book on the side. it is a miracle that i even thought about getting help. i would love to tell you i had the mental wherewithal to like, process whether this was the right choice for me. mostly i was desperate. i was so suicidal that i was trying to find a reason to stay inside of fortune cookies. i was the kind of suicidal that looks like splatterpaint. i hadn't been that bad in an entire decade.

they took my data. i gave them it freely. somewhere out there, they have a dossier on me. on everything i survived. my story in little datapoints, scattergraphed beautifully.

the first woman told me that really i should be grateful, because (and this is a direct quote): "at least you're not anne frank." i said that i felt that statement was antisemitic, as anne frank's life and experience shouldn't be compared to like, a nonbinary lesbian in western massachusetts. the therapist said that i should try to use lucid dreaming to try to picture myself in an actually scary situation, like running from nazis.

i applied for another therapist. i was willing to accept the possibility that there was a bad apple in the bunch. the next therapist and i even laughed about how inappropriate that statement was. and then, in our next session: the new therapist said if i was struggling with body image issues, i should just work harder on my appearance. she spent 3 sessions in a row talking about how she was grieving, and made me memorize facts about her grandmother so "she can live on through my clients."

i am a three's-a-charm kind of person. okay, so what if the last person made me uncomfortable. i figured it was just a misunderstanding of priorities - she had felt she was sharing with me, i had felt like i had to take care of her. i applied for another therapist.

the last woman asked me to help her pray. she bowed her head. i stared at her, frozen, while she said: lord, i beg you: cure her. take the pain of being gay away from her.

i spent somewhere between 2.5 and 3 months on betterhelp. in that whole time, i was not getting the professional help i so desperately needed, even though i was fucking trying.

in the end, i survived this because i finally could get off the meds that were literally killing me. a request for a real therapist finally went through. i survived because my friends saved my life. because nick let me sob myself dry in his arms. because maddie took the razors out of my room when i asked them to. because grace slept over in my bed for like 3 weeks in a row since nobody trusted me not to hurt myself when i was alone. i survived because i got fucking lucky. because even when i was desperately suicidal, i was too old and too self-aware to take "you need to be prettier" as good advice.

the thing is that there's a 19 year old me who isn't like that. who would have heard "just think about how grateful you should be" and said - oh, i see. i would have assumed that is what it means to be in therapy: the same thing my abusers used to tell me. that i am just pretending and lazy. that i am ugly and unworthy.

betterhelp positioned itself to take advantage of an incredibly vulnerable community. it preys on desperation. it knows it is serving people who are not doing well mentally. it saw that there is a huge need for real, immediate, compassionate mental health care: and then it fucking takes your money and privacy.

i still get their ads on instagram. last night i watched as a woman in a pool pretends to talk to a different woman. they discuss her anxiety.

there's a 19 year old version of me, and she didn't survive this. she was too tired, and drowning. i almost fucking died. this thing almost fucking killed me.

in the ad, the woman playing the therapist takes a note on a clipboard and then nods once, sagely.

i have to admit it's a pretty scene. the steam and light coming off the pool water lands on the actresses. like this, it almost looks baptismal, holy.

[genderqueerdykes]

there really is a cultural pressure for transmascs & men to detransition, and it comes from all sides. it comes from the queer community too, not just terfs and cishet transphobes.

it took me a while to realize why transphobic people and transandrophobic queers utterly despise trans guys & mascs who are over the age of like 25- it's because it pisses them right off that we've resisted their attempts to make us detransition. it makes them so angry to see they were unable to groom that person into a life of self-shame and repression. it really seems like MOST people believe that trans men will just detransition eventually in life? people NEVER think about older trans men, only teenage trans boys and trans men in their very early twenties.

when i was involved with my local punk scene i was addressed with condescension, almost everyone around me didn't accept transmasculinity as a legitimate identity and thought that we would've transitioned by now in life. i encountered folks who would talk about transmasculinity with subtle disgust that made me feel like i was doing something wrong, and people who expressed overt disgust, saying in plain english that they were disgusted by breasts and vaginas because they were gay men. all along the way i was literally mocked for not having a penis, and one of my roommates started treating me differently once they found out i didn't have one (because they were attracted to me)

i've been on T for 9 years, and been out as a trans man for a bit longer than that, and i noticed as i've aged i've also attracted a lot of folks who have tried to deter me from identifying as a trans man, either through directly telling me that trans men are inherently dangerous, or by implying that women or another gender are safer, quieter, calmer, "less traumatizing to be around," etc. one of my exes told me they were terrified to date me (despite literally going out of their way to do so for over half a year) because they were scared i would be transphobic to them because i'm a transmasculine lesbian.

i received pressure from online friends to either detransition and become an intersex butch woman, or to something feminine adjacent or nonbinary. for years i dealt with a few friends who kept subtly hinting that i should stop identifying as a trans man or trans masc because of how awful transmascs are- going as far as to sending me screenshots of transmascs speaking, complaining about them and calling them whiny, annoying. talking about how all transmascs are entitled, how all transmascs take things too personally, how we complain too much, and so on.

people make no effort to make space for transmascs and men. i met 0 transmascs in my local punk community that i was able to stay in contact with. none. i met a few in passing but none that actually were introduced to me in a capacity where i could actually try to befriend them. it really felt like other punks in the scene were desperately trying to keep the transmascs apart at times. excuses were made as to why i couldn't hang out with other transmascs i liked, but i was constantly being forced to befriend transphobic cis gay men and transandrophobic transfemmes who outwardly expressed hatred and disgust of us. it really felt like it was on purpose... almost as if other members of this community wanted our attention, but never wanted us to give each other attention or a sense of community. like we were objects, not people to be included in the community for real. satellite friends, if you will.

i'll be honest with you. i was at my lowest at this point. i realized i wasn't just a trans man and that i'm a genderqueer person who experiences multiple genders, including womanhood and an "other" gender, which was great. however now i was being forced to completely stuff down being a man for the sake of other people. instead of folks telling me they'd rather not hang out with transmascs, folks rather just attempted to guilt me for identifying as such in the hopes i'd stop identifying that way. i was being told daily that trans men and mascs are inherently violent and terrible to be around. i was in discord servers where transmascs were being kicked constantly for getting even slightly upset about transandrophobia, or being unfairly targeted by staff.

it's violence, but nobody wants to call it that. i pulled myself out of there and am now able to contact other transmascs and trans men who are proud of who they are and have elevated me back into a headspace where it's okay to truly be myself. just keep in mind that if you feel like you're in that situation, you're not alone. people who attempt to groom others are often very subtle it's not always up front. they will start slipping in hateful sentiments very slowly and make you feel like maybe they're the ones who are actually right.

it feels good to be an almost 32 year old trans guy. there's nothing to be ashamed about there. people project their feelings on to my gender and that has nothing to do with me. it has nothing to do with you, either. people will just project on to you for whatever reason- hatred is usually the motivator there. if you encounter folks who keep trying to badger you out of identifying as your gender, no matter who you are, transmasc, transfemme, transneutral, trans anything- they are not good for you. they are not your friends. they do not accept you as you are and you deserve so much better.