#if the roles are an “i’m so ugly” woman and a “no you’re beautiful” man

[lilyimmsim]

i think there’s a divide between the way women and men can talk + feel about themselves. it’s difficult as women to say “i am beautiful” or “strong” or “hot” or “worthy”. i think it’s much more acceptable to say these things, or much more expected, when you’re a man. it’s shown in media all the time; the main character thinks she’s ugly and is so shy and can’t see it until a dude comes along and tells her she’s beautiful; it’s seen in the lyrics “you don’t know you’re beautiful - that’s what makes you beautiful”. and i get that those lyrics are from a popular, harmless song but it injects this belief into young girls that not knowing, not admitting your beauty is what makes you pretty, rather than owning the beauty + being confident of it.

[luvrxbunny]

i think Miguel would get turned on by little things. like little details that someone would normally overlook or have no reaction to

so what made me think of this is specifically when girls say to guys that they’re gonna like— “fuck the life outta him” because technically it’s the guy doing the fucking but i think the tiny bit of role reversal would haunt his mind. he’s distracted for the rest of the day. his boner that he acquired when you said that never goes away

also if omg— i think this is just gonna turn into Miguel secretly wanting to be dominated (or just generally wanting to be treated how he treats others in a relationship) so hold on tight

if you’re passing him in the kitchen or something and— AHAHAAAA okay wait

so Miguel is chopping something in the kitchen but you need to get past him for the fridge or something. so he’s chop chop chopping and you scoot by, resting your hands on his hips to lean him forward a bit with a small “sorry, baby.” as you scooch by. you’d just hear his chopping stop and he’s getting hard already. you have about 30mins before he’s fed up and comes to u begging.

AND IF U DEFEND HIM??? omg he loses his shit. like falling into subspace no matter where u guys are— maybe not fully under but man is slipping.

let’s say you’re at a bar w Miguel and you go to the bathroom for two seconds. a girl approaches him all like “wanna buy me a drink, handsome?” and he’s like “oh! i’m flattered but i have a girlfriend!! so…” she’s like scoff scoff!! “she doesn’t need to know” wink wink and that irks him. it’s rude to his character and it’s rude to u. “i would never do that to her” he’s done w the convo so he turns back to the tv behind the bar, opting to watch whatever is happening there rather than the bitch beside him. but she’s still yapping! “what?? babe.. this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for u!! u can’t bend your rules just a little? *batting her ugly lashes* for me..?”

he just straight up rolls his eyes at her. she looks nothing like you so— “you are far from what i’d consider beautiful” he doesn’t even turn to her as he says it— he’s done w the conversation! but this bitch starts throwing a fit. “you’re a piece of shit loser okay?? you don’t know shit about beauty!! have u looked in the mirror honey?? looking like a fucking meatball is not in style alright?? i was doing you a fucking—“ she’s going on and on. some of her comments are starting to actually hurt Miguel’s feelings a bit (w his body issues and all) he’s about to just get up and wait by the girls bathroom for you but he’s scared to be seen as a creep. he feels dread sleeping in. he doesn’t know how long he’ll have to endure this before you come back and you both can just leave. “you’re an ugly 👏🏻 mother 👏🏻 fuck👏🏻er okay sweetheart?? you—“

“i’m sorry. did you call my boyfriend sweetheart?” relief floods through him at the sound of your voice. his head whips to see you, you have a playful smile on your face— but he knows the anger hidden behind it. it sends a little shock of excitement through his body. the woman’s eyes are wide as she stares at you, like she didn’t believe him when he said he had a girlfriend. “i— sis, listen”

you cut her off “i’m definitely not your sister. go on.” she pauses for a bit— shocked at your coldness before continuing. “girl to girl. you can do so much better, okay? your man— although “loyal” he is—“ you cut her off with a genuine laugh at he way she put quotations around the word ‘loyal’. “baby? finish your drink, okay? we’re leaving soon.” you look right past the girl, barely acknowledging her presence. Miguel nods frantically and downs the rest of his beer as you turn back to the girl.

“look. he’s my boyfriend. my man. i don’t care what you have to say. i don’t care what you say he did but i bet you i can guess the entire scenario” you have a confident, almost smug look on your face that has a fire burning in Miguel’s stomach. “you.” you pause to look her up and down with a weakly suppressed laugh. “tried to get at him… and then threw a hissy fit when he rejected you.. right?” she’s obviously embarrassed, staring at her shoes with an angry look. “well he said that i was ugly.”

you’re grabbing your purse from the chair behind her as she whispers that last part. you can barely make out what it says but you’re not even surprised. “and?” is all you say before walking out with Miguel.

in the cab he’s silent, worried that you’re upset until you speak up. “sorry if i was a hit mean back there.” you laugh a bit embarrassed. you go on to say that you know you shouldn’t have been rude, that people should spread positivity and more but he has to cut you off

“that was so hot, baby.” you take in his obviously disheveled, incredibly aroused state and give him a smirk. “yeah?”

you end up jerking him off in the back of the uber 🤪

he’s super whiny, whimpering, and will not stop begging for more

when u guys get married he gets really into choking u cus it shows off his wedding band

omf you’d do something nice for him while he’s sick— like make him soup or something and he’ll get hard

“you- you made this.. for me?” you’re baffled. “yes..? Miguel you’re sick remember? oh god this is way worse than i thought… do you know where you are, baby?” he laughs. “i know where i am! i just— that’s so- that’s so sweet, baby.” you shake your head and give him a spoonful, feeding him like he’s a baby. you’re focused on his mouth, subconsciously making silly faces as you pour the soup into his mouth. he’s watching you the whole time.

after that spoonful you go for another but he takes the bowl and places it on the nightstand. “wha— you don’t like it?” he smiles and shakes his head at your immediate doubt. “i love it, baby” is all he says as he pulls you into his lap, pressing his dick into you and begging you to ride him for all he’s worth

[yaksha-lover]

i’m obsessed with the thought of vil falling for someone who’s ugly. especially if it’s a forced proximity trope. triple points if it’s enemies to lovers!

there’s just something about a guy obsessed with beauty is shown that beauty doesn’t equal to value that melts me

omg i actually was obsessed with this concept a few months ago and i wrote a very short unfinished drabble (set in medieval au) about knight!vil falling for ‘ugly’ knight!reader but i didn’t think anyone would want to read about an ‘ugly’ reader 😭😭

i definitely agree tho the concept is so perfect for vil imo. like the idea of this guy who’s so fixated and obsessed with beauty (especially one who’s potentially been told that much of his worth lies in his looks) who ends up falling for someone very unconventional completely unintentionally. like theres’s a whole internal struggle in him that he doesn’t want to fall in love with this person. they’re an enemy, and unattractive at that.

but then he just can’t help but falling in love with their character; when they give hope to him and represent a goodness that he’d lost. someone who is called ugly and unwanted everyday by the world and manages to keep their head held high even if tears are pouring down their cheeks.

i think that’s a quality he’d admire a lot; kindness even when the world has been unkind. he wants to be good like that too. in a way, you’re like a mirror of the kind of goodness he wants to see in himself. you’re made fun of and put down at every turn and yet you do not let that stop you from being nice. whenever someone mocks vil, he can’t let it go, he can’t let himself be kind because it hurts and that’s the only protection he’s found.

also the idea of consciously thinking someone is unattractive but unconsciously starting to notice their eyes and lips and desire settling in- help-

unfinished drabble under the cut 👉👈 (also its fem reader bc i think medieval gender roles and the idea of ‘ugly’ woman x hot man couple is kind of important to the theme lol - aka this is just jaime x brienne rewritten but anyway-)

Vil truly believed you were ugly when he first met you. He almost never truly meant the term, but in this case, it was appropriate. Most everyone you encountered agreed. He could tell by how you’d stayed stone-faced at his cruel taunts, apparently used to it. Your features were just a bit too extreme, too out of place, too different. He’d used your appearance against you, scratching at every insecurity you’d thought of and probably some you hadn’t. Still, you hadn’t gotten angry as he’d hoped. You didn’t seek to harm him, even when he knew he’d struck a sore spot.

He persevered, but you’d never given in, despite his hopes that you would become blinded enough by anger and pain to give him a chance to escape. He admired you, in a way. It seemed as though life had beaten you down long before he’d come along, but a hardened rock had emerged from the erosion.

Sometimes his words would cut too deep for you to ignore. You never did anything rash, to his dismay, but he could tell they affected you. He didn’t feel bad; why should he? He was your hostage, and you his captor. Even if you were performing your duty, you were getting in the way of his own responsibilities, his life.

Vil was surprised to learn that you were a high-born like himself. Well, not exactly born to a family of his status and wealth, but a high-born nonetheless. He’d realized that he should’ve been addressing you with your Lady title, but you’d fought at soon as he’d tried.

No matter my origin, you know that no man sees me as a lady, Sir Vil.

-

They came, and they cut off his hair. One of them taunted him for being a beautiful husk. So they’d cut a deep gash across his face. Now your outside matches your inside, ‘Sir’, they’d mocked.

Vil had wished they’d cut off his head instead.

Later, after you’d managed to convince them to let you treat his wounds, he’d bemoaned to you.

Now we’re both grotesque, he’d said, a pair of freaks.

You’re not ugly, you just have a scar, you’d replied. You turned away from your task to face him. You’ll never know what it means to be ugly.

Even with his bitter remarks, you treated his wounds all the same. When he was too afraid to face himself in the reflection of the lake, you’d been the one to peel away his bandages and force him to look.

See, you’d said, not a monster, just a man.

He’d wondered if you were an angel at that moment, a saint. Or maybe you were a witch destined to lead him astray. He hadn’t really cared either way.

[blowflyfag]

Wrestling World : FEBRUARY 1995

A NIGHT OUT WITH THE BAD GUY

You’ve seen what he can do in the ring. Now, Wrestling World shows you what he’s like outside the ropes! Get ready for a night on the town with Razor Ramon.

By Jose Padua

THIS IS A story about good versus evil, money versus poverty, knowledge versus ignorance. It’s a story about the subtle power of poetry versus the blunt force of a closed fist, the seductive charm of a beautiful woman versus the explosive temper of a maniacal beast. But it’s mostly a story about a guy with a toothpick in his mouth whose perpetual five o’clock shadow bespeaks of street fights, hard times, and a distaste for proper grooming-though not necessarily in that order.

We’re referring, of course, to “The Bad Guy,” Razor Ramon, that hairy behemoth of a man who since bursting onto the scene in the WWF a few years ago has made an impression on wrestling fans all over the world. That it’s a “bad” impression is, as wrestling fans have learned, no reason to shun him. On the contrary, it is the very reason we have all embraced his aura and taken him for what he truly is-a man who has weathered “the dark night of the soul” and come out on top to server as both inspiration for us working stiffs, and as a role model for today’s youth culture.

Indeed, Razor’s influence has extended well beyond the world of wrestling to the point that he’s become something of a hero to fans of the alternative music scene. Nowadays it’s just as common for hip twentysomethings to identify themselves by purchasing a block of tickets to a Pearl Jam concert as it is for them to sport a Razor Ramon tee shirt complete with paint stains and strategically placed rips in the cloth. And one recent Friday night found “The Bad Guy” in the company of some of that very same crowd.

Celebrating his recent victory over Diesel for the Intercontinental title, Razor was having dinner at a Mexican restaurant on the corner of Amsterdam Avenue and 89th St. in Manhattan. Although he’s been known to frequent such posh restaurants as Alla Sera on the Upper East Side, this was a much more modest place.

“I like it here,” Razor explains. “Though sometimes I go to them fancy restaurants, I always have a better time at places like this. Places where real people go to have a good time.”

Success, it seems, has not gone to Razor’s head: He’s the people’s bad guy. But that wasn’t always the case.

“When I first started out. I was just like Shawn Michaels,” he continued, bringing up the source of his major feuds. “I was bad for the wrong reasons, Chico, stepping all over my people, people who had it rough like me…who came from the streets like me. But I learned to have respect for my roots, man.”

Among his entourage this evening are a couple of kids sporting the grunge look, some pals from the old neighborhood, and a former centerfold model named Lisa. When the waiter comes to take everyone’s order we hear requests for standard Mexican fare-dishes such as enchiladas, tacos, chimichangas- until it’s Razor’s turn to order. Pulling the toothpick from his mouth, Razor looks intently at the waiter and says, “I’d like a special order, Chico. Fried chicken.” It seemed an odd choice, but no one’s going to argue with Razor about what he wants to eat. If he were to order spaghetti and meatballs at a Chinese restaurant he’d undoubtedly be obliged.

While waiting for dinner the subject of The 1-2-3 Kid comes up. Razor’s unexpected defeat the the hands of The 1-2-3 Kid was the turning point in his career, the darkness merged-where the void and the bad kicked out the ugly to create a force Razor never imagined could exist.

“My Main Man,” Razor says, referring to The Kid. “He took me by surprise, Chico. Here was this little guy who could wrestle with the biggest dudes, man. He showed me that you could be ‘good’ too.”

“So now you’re The Good Guy?” we ask.

“No, I’m The Bad Guy. But now I understand what’s good. See why I’m sayin’?”

Whatever the case may be, Razor’s style is, to say the least, different from that of The 1-2-3 Kid. Where The Kid is all finesse and dazzling acrobatics, Razor is brute force and methodical determination. In fact, if football announcer John Madden were to open his “All-Madden” team to professional wrestlers, Razor Ramon would be first on his list. Not necessarily the most skilled or scientific, Madden’s team is made up of real “tough guys,” the ones who are most willing to get down in the dirt and do whatever it takes to win-which is as good a description as any of Razor Ramon’s “bad” style.

[Razor Ramon cuts a striking figure in, or out, of the ring!]

When dinner is served Razor immediately digs in with his hands. Picking up a drumstick, he devours it in a single sloppy bite, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand: Like his wrestling style, his table manners aren’t all that elegant. But what matters most is that they get the job done. “Anyone want to try some of this chicken?” he asks, looking around at his guests. “It’s good.”

After dinner Razor and his friends pile into a couple of cabs and head downtown to the East Village. Getting off on Avenue B, they gather in front of a grimy performance space that goes by the name of Chez Rollo where down-and-out writers congregate to spit out words of rage and wisdom. It seems that although Razor is known for a lot of things, one thing that never gets much attention is the fact that he is something of a patron of the arts-especially those arts that speak of the street, of that world from whence he came. On entering, Razor is immediately recognized by a number of people, including a couple of the poets.

“Hey Razor!” says one of them. The poet walks up to Razor and introduces himself. “I’m Carl Watson; I’m a big fan of yours.”

“Oh yeah,” says Razor nodding. “I know your work. I like it…it’s good stuff, Chico.”

While waiting for the reading to begin Carl explains how he became a fan of “The Bad Guy.” “I got into wrestling when I got an assignment to do a story on Lucha Libre for the Village Voice,” he says. “After going to some the Lucha Libre matches in Brooklyn I started to watch the WWF or get some perspective on how the Luca Libre scene differs from other wrestling promotions, and of all the wrestlers there the one who really stood out the most was Razor Ramon-‘The Bad Guy.’ He’s got the good, Chico.”

Soon the reading starts. First is Ron Kolm, who reads a series of short, insightful poems on such diverse topics as getting drunk and going to war.

“He’s bad,” Razor comments.

“You mean you don’t like him?” Lisa asks.

“No, I mean he’s bad. Like me.” Later on Carl gets up and reads a story about the seedy side of the city and life spent in dingy bars and transient hotels.

“He’s been there, man,” Razor comments nodding his head appreciatively.

Last is a guy named Bob wearing a pork pie hat, a polka dot shirt, and baggy black trousers. Like Razor he also sports a good amount of stubble on his cheeks, but on seeing him Razor starts to sneer. “Something ain’t right with this dude,” he says shaking his head.

Bob commences his portion of the reading with an attempt at rap style poetry. Watching Bob perform, Razor gets agitated, shifting in his seat and clenching his fists. “He don’t know what he’s talking about,” Razor mumbles.

“He’s acting like he’s down, but it ain’t no way, Chico. He’s a poseur just like Shawn Michaels.” A few poems later Razor stands up in anger and is about to approach the stage when Lisa stops him.

“Hey, Razor, it’s okay,” she says. “He’s harmless.”

“Yeah, but someone needs to make this gringo shut up.”

Luckily for Bob it’s the last poem of the night, but before he steps down Razor yells a warning toward the stage: “It’s all right for now. But I’ll be back, Chico.”

In need of a nightcap, Razor leads his entourage, which at this point includes Ron and Carl, to The International Bar on First Avenue. Taking a nip from a bottle of Dos Equis, he begins to relax again. Later in the evening, at that point when most people take to reminiscing about the past, Razor Ramon (always one to do things his own way), looks instead toward the future.

“I’m the Intercontinental champion now,” he tells Ron, who hangs on the Razor’s every word, “and it feels good, Chico. But pretty soon I’m going to get a shot at the big title. And you know, to have me go against Bret Hart will be one of the greatest matches of all time. The two baddest guys in the WWF. But first there are some people who need to be taught a lesson. People like the Million Dollar Man. Bam Bam Bigelow, and Jeff Jarrett. They make me mad, Chico.”

“And don’t forget Bob, the bad poet,” Ron suggests.

“Bad? He ain’t bad, Chico,” Razor says raising his voice.

“Well…I mean Bob the good poet.”

“He ain’t good either.”

“Well, you know what I mean…” Ron says nervously. Then adds. “I better shut up.”

“Hey, Chico, it’s cool, man. Don’t sweat the small stuff.”

Razor picks the tab up from the bar, lays down a couple of hundred dollar bills, then lifts his bottle and extends it towards Ron and the rest of the group.

“To all my good friends.”

And so ends a night out with The Bad Guy. A night which despite the occasional misunderstanding, turned out to be a good one. Or should we say a bad one. Whatever the proper word is, it’s a distinction that Razor Ramon understands very well, and perhaps one day when the time is right he’ll teach us all a lesson.

[Inspired by the work of Ron Kolm and Carl Watson, Razor tries his hand at writing some poetry!]

[outroblogparareblog]

The Ugly, Unfair Truth About Looking Beautiful by W. Leith

Why, after decades of feminism, do we seem to demand that women in the public eye be extraordinarily beautiful but their male counterparts can get away with being ordinary?

The art critic John Bergerfamously said that, in our culture, “men act and women appear”. He didn’t mean that women didn’t actually do anything, or that men never looked pretty. His point was that this was how men and women were depicted.

Men were supposed to be effective, and women were supposed to be attractive. He was right. And it was a travesty. But that was in 1972; it was a long time ago.

Or was it? Four decades of feminism later I am reading the comedian Angela Barnes’ blog. “I am ugly, and I am proud,” she writes. She goes on to say: “The fact is I don’t see people in magazines who look like me. I don’t see people like me playing the romantic lead or having a romantic life.”

At the top of the blog is a picture of Barnes. And the thing is, she isn’t ugly. Neither is she beautiful. She’s normal looking. She’s somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, just like lots of women you see every day in real life.

It made me think of this year’s Wimbledon ladies’ final between Sabine Lisicki and Marion Bartoli. When Bartoli won, the BBC commentator John Inverdale infamously said, “Do you think Bartoli’s dad told her when she was little, 'You’re never going to be a looker, you’re never going to be a Sharapova, so you have to be scrappy and fight’?”

The first thing I thought was: this woman has just won a tennis tournament! And she’s being judged on her looks! And then I thought: but Bartoli is attractive. Sure, she’s not at the very highest point on the scale – she doesn’t look like a top model. But she’s pretty. And, in any case, why should it matter? She’s a top athlete. Surely that’s what counts.

A sports commentator refers to a pretty woman as “not a looker”. A normal-looking woman thinks she’s ugly. Why?

Because, even though the world is full of normal and pretty women, the world we see – the world of television, films, magazines and websites – is full of women who are top-of-the-scale beauties.

And right now, in the second decade of the 21st century, the situation is more extreme than ever. If you're a woman, a huge proportion of your role models are beautiful. So if you’re normal looking, you feel ugly. And if you’re merely pretty, men feel free to comment on how un-beautiful you are.

As a normal-looking man, I’m in good company. Sure, some male actors and celebrities are very good looking. Brad Pitt. George Clooney. Russell Brand.

But many of Hollywood’s leading men, like me, look like the sort of blokes you see every day, in real life. Russell Crowe, Kevin Spacey, Bruce Willis, Jack Black, Seth Rogen, Martin Freeman, Tom Hanks, Steve Carell, Jim Carrey, Will Ferrell, Vince Vaughn, Brendan Fraser… In fact, you might almost say that most leading men are normal-looking blokes.

It’s true of television, too. Bryan Cranston, who plays the lead in Breaking Bad – he’s a normal. James Gandolfini – he was a normal. And chubby too. Kevin Whately – normal. Ben Miller – normal. TV cops all look normal. Ray Winstone looks normal. Tim Roth looks normal. They portray people who are interesting for what they do, not what they look like.

Oh, and think of sitcoms. The Big Bang Theoryfeatures four normal-looking blokes and a stunningly beautiful woman. New Girl is about two normal blokes, a guy who’s quite good looking, and two women who are… yes, strikingly beautiful.

When I watch the news, on whatever channel, it’s presented by the classic partnership of an ordinary-looking guy and a gorgeous woman. After the news, I watch the weather. Male weather presenters look like standard males. Female weather presenters look like models.

Footballers look normal. Footballers’ wives and girlfriends look stunning. Daytime television presenters: men look like Phillip Schofield; women look like Holly Willoughby.

A typical Saturday-night judges’ panel consists of two types of people – middle-aged blokes and young, stunning women. Sometimes a normal-looking or ageing woman slips through the net – but then, like Arlene Phillips, her days are soon numbered.

Countdown had an attractive woman and an ageing bloke; when the attractive woman began to show signs of ageing, she was axed – replaced by a woman who was, of course, strikingly beautiful.

Who presents historical documentaries? Guys like David Starkey. Normals. And what happened when a normal-looking woman, Mary Beard, presented a series about the ancient world? She was mocked for not being attractive enough.

In a recent interview Dustin Hoffman, another normal, made a revealing comment. Remember when he dressed up as a woman in Tootsie? “I went home and started crying,” he said. Why?

“Because I think I am an interesting woman when I look at myself on screen. And I know that if I met myself at a party, I would never talk to that character. Because she doesn’t fulfil physically the demands that we’re brought up to think women have to have in order to ask them out… I have been brainwashed.”

Actually, I had some insight into how women must feel the other day. I went to a beauty trade show. Women, many of whom wanted their faces to be more beautiful than they were, were looking at products and procedures that might help. You could have injections of Botox or fillers; you could have your face heated up or cut apart; you could have fat from your abdomen injected into your lips.

The “cosmetic interventions” industry is growing fast: in 2005 it was worth £720 million; five years later the figure was £2.3 billion. More than 90 per cent of the customers are women.

I watched a woman as her lips were injected with Restylane, a dermal filler designed to make faces look fuller, lips more pouty. Her face was being stretched and jabbed, stretched and jabbed. Skin was being hoicked and yanked, and then stuff was pumped into her. It looked like a cooking procedure. It looked like abuse.

Afterwards, she got up. She was shaky on her feet. She had the bearing of someone who had been in an accident. Before and after the procedure she was normal looking.

That’s one thing about cosmetic interventions, says Daniel Hamermesh, a professor at the University of Texas, who is an expert on the economics of beauty. They might help a bit. But don’t expect miracles. “Changes are likely to be small,” he says.

But women increasingly crave beauty – and for good reason. In a world that tells pretty women they are ordinary, and ordinary-looking women they are ugly, increasingly radical “solutions” come to seem normal.

In a 2013 review, the Department of Health reports that, until recently, people were discreet about cosmetic procedures; now they are “celebrated”.

These days beauty is not a bonus – it’s essential. So women, in their tens of thousands, feel a new acceptance of the pain, the fear, the microdermabrasion, the chemical peels, the intense pulsed light.

They try not to think of the procedures that go wrong, leading to more procedures. In the mirror they observe their faces with a new expertise, noting the downward slide of the malar fat pads, the atrophy of collagen. They save money. They book appointments. People yank and jab their skin. Afterwards they still look un-beautiful.

Feminists, most famously Naomi Wolf, tell us they know what’s going on. Just at the point when women were becoming more liberated – the moment when they began to act, as well as appear – the old patriarchy hit back.

In The Beauty Myth she makes a good case. The more power women have, she says, the more pressure there is on them to be beautiful. And passive.

In the past couple of decades scientists, who are mostly male, have stepped into the debate. And what do they tell us? The pressure on women to be beautiful is not a patriarchal backlash, because it’s been there for ever. It’s the same all over the world, whether you’re from a poor or rich country.

It’s the same in cities with glass skyscrapers as it is in tribal societies that have hardly changed since the Stone Age. That, they say, is because it’s an essential part of the human condition.

In The Evolution of Desire, David Buss, professor of psychology at the University of Texas, says that it all comes down to the basics of sex. Men are attracted to women who look fertile. Women are attracted to men who will make good providers. That’s why men want their female partners to be a bit younger than they are. It’s also why women are attracted to older men – men with a proven track record.

Throughout history, in other words, women are desirable when they look healthy and unblemished. Symmetrical features are a sign of health; a narrow waist and wide hips are a sign of fertility. Women like symmetrical features too. But they don’t mind wrinkles or grey hair; in ancestral times, if a guy had grey hair, he was a proven survivor.

I’ve never heard any woman say anything negative about George Clooney’s grey hair. And I can’t imagine John Inverdale ever making a comment about Andy Murray being a normal-looking bloke.

And if, like David Buss, I’d interviewed 10,000 people in 37 different cultures, and found that, all over the world, women want men to look like strong providers, grizzled or not, I’d tell you that this was not surprising.

The writer Eva Wiseman recently identified a new journalistic genre, which she calls “first person pretty”: articles by women who are, or at least feel, attractive – but whose attractiveness is a double-edged sword, attracting jealousy and spite.

“These pieces illuminate from the inside our anxiety about our bodies, our internalised misogyny,” she wrote. How did we get here and why is the situation so extreme?

I recently read a debate about online porn that asked: why are female porn stars much better looking than male? Why is porn all about normal-looking blokes having sex with beautiful women?

It’s because the consumers of porn are, by and large, normal-looking blokes. In other words, that’s where the money is – the normal-looking blokes have it. They want to identify with the male actors, which would be more difficult if the male actors were as beautiful as the women. The male gaze leads from money to female beauty. It’s brute economics.

Since then, in an increasingly mediated, monetised society, the old ideal has hardened and intensified. Sponsorship and advertising endorse conservative values. The internet has brought us porn on demand, which focuses the male gaze. And porn is a hub that radiates outwards – towards fashion, music, films and novels.

As the feminist writer Ariel Levy pointed out in her book Female Chauvinist Pigs, lots of women seem to want to become pornographic versions of themselves, mainly because it works. It places them in the dominant culture. They felt they couldn’t beat men, so they decided to join them. Some wore T-shirts with the slogan porn star.

As Levy says, “Only 30 years ago, our mothers were 'burning their bras’ and picketing Playboy, and suddenly we were getting implants and getting the bunny logo as supposed symbols of our liberation.”

And Catherine Hakim, senior research fellow of sociology at the LSE, might just agree.

In her book Honey Money, she points out that, just as men in patriarchal societies have always tried to control the way women dress, so have some feminists. “Why not champion femininity rather than abolish it? Why does no one encourage women to exploit men whenever they can?” she writes.

The other day, a man said to me, “Look, women have money these days, they have independence, they don’t want to be judged on how they look. So why don’t they turn their backs on all this va-va-voom dressing, all the make-up and high heels and beautification?”

And the answer is, I don’t know. I’m a man. I don’t live in a world of being judged on my looks. Or a world in which to look normal is to look ugly, or in which I can increase my power several notches just by how I dress.

What’s complicated for women is simple for men. Just think of John Malkovich, another normal-looking leading man. On being asked what he most disliked about his appearance, he said, “I don’t think about it. I’m a geezer. Who cares?”

[aphroditeslesbian]

uhhh, demi cut their hair because they have hid behind their hair for years, and cutting their hair was a freeing way to help them feel more confident in their body. it’s got nothing to do with gender. you’re the only one here comparing a haircut to someone’s gender identity. maybe don’t speak on things you don’t know about

Uhhh how about YOU don't speak about things you don't know about? I identified as nonbinary for 4 years, I know what I'm talking about. I've been immersed in the trans world, and in the gender critical world.

Also you have no reading comprehension, which makes this whole thing even more embarrassing. The criticism was not about the fact she cut her hair. The criticism is about the fact that cutting her hair and seeing that as a gender non conforming behavior led her to start questioning her "gender identity" and eventually to deny her biological reality as a woman/female.

The criticism is the gender fandom's ease to pretend that gender non conforming people cannot be part of their own biological sex. The criticism is the push for women/females to stop identifying with themselves, their own bodies, their own biological reality as soon as they don't want to fully perform femininity.

What I'm criticizing is the growing number of famous women who denounce their womanhood the moment they don't 100% conform to society's expectations, thus showing their impressionable audience of young women and girls that women cannot look gnc.

It's just too big of a coincidence that as soon as she cut her hair, and is coming to terms with preferring her same sex attraction (she recently said she could have see herself marrying a man [xxxx])... She immediately thinks she is no longer a woman, and unfortunately stops being representation of a strong woman who doesn't care about gender roles, and instead shoves herself into a new gender box.

It's disheartening, saddening, and angering.

I know what I'm talking about, I have been in her shoes. I'm thankfully desisted, and still dealing with dysphoria which arose during my time socially transitioning. Feminism saved me, and I hope time will show these women that transitioning is not the solution to their gender non conformity. Transitioning is conformance. It is misogynistic, sexist, and dangerous physically and psychologically. I do not wish transition and or a gender identity on anyone, especially these women who are already troubled and dealing with the consequences of being in the public eye from very early ages. I wish these women freedom. Freedom is in womanhood. Not in putting one's self into a new gender, with it's gender roles and restrictions.

I also mentioned Ellen Page, who is another homosexual individual who is transitioning. Demi is bisexual. Do you honestly not see the connections between all these same sex attracted women, who are tired of trying to be or have never been feminine, suddenly denouncing womanhood?

It is not that they are not women, it is that they are not feminine. They deserve better than trying to identify out of their own realities. It is a path that only leads to self hatred and deepening depression. I speak from experience, and from seeing it happen to other trans identified females, and from actual fucking scientific studies such as [this one].

I know what I am talking about, you are the one who needs to study the data and wake up.

PS: Oh also your claim that cutting her hair has nothing to do with gender is so ludicrous I forgot to adress it.

Women are expected to have long hair. Short hair is seen as gender non conformity in women. The haircut she got is still a feminine pixie cut, but still: women are taught from early ages that their hair is beauty, that it is part of them. I personally have experienced being told my short hair is ugly and mannish.

While short hair is becoming more commonplace even among feminine women, I imagine it is no coincidence that right after she cut her hair she is also identifying as trans. Ellen page also cut her hair immediately after claiming to id as trans. Most trans identified females have short hair.

Long hair in women is historically a symbol of femininity, and even a symbol of fertility. Cutting off one's hair as a woman is often a sign of rebellion, of denouncing of gender roles.

Please don't fool yourself, and do not try to fool me, pretending you don't know societally women are expected to have long hair and men are expected to have short hair. It's just embarrassing. If you have eyes and live outside of a bubble, you know I'm right. This is true for most Western cultures.

[adviceformefromme]

I’m currently on a weight loss transformation journey and I’m struggling with trying to not see myself as the ugly fat friend. For as long as I can remember I’ve felt invisible. Do you have any tips on how to stop neglecting myself🥺

Steps for weight loss / body confidence level up: 1. Be prepared to put in the work, you have to really commit to yourself, to growing you, to pushing yourself to do one thing to move you forward every single day. Once you get into momentum, you will be on a role. 2. Mirror work, start looking in the mirror and learning to accept and love what you see, going from ‘I'm worthless' to ‘I love me, I'm amazing' might be too much of a big jump so spending time when you get out the shower repeating ‘i am learning to love the body i am in’ chant this to yourself. 3. Instead of focusing on all the weight you want to loose, break it down. Can you loose x amount in one week? Can I not eat x food for one day/ one week? Focus on small achievable goals and over time you'll succeed. Progress is defined by what you do each day. When you do any exercise/ movements, start whispering to yourself words of motivation. As your body moves, and you repeat / chant words of empowerment, they infiltrate your energy and subconscious mind. Words such as ‘i am enough, i am worthy’, as simple as they are, they have the power to heal your life. if you stuck with these two words, and literally repeated them as you move your body for even 5 mins you would start to mentally feel different. 4. Prayer, this is a big one - whoever you believe in God / Universe / Allah, ask for help in shifting these beliefs, pray for release of this negativity. The answers, the help will come, and it will show up in different ways, it might be through a new friend that inspires you, or a book that appears when you go to the story, a film you watch that changes your perspective. more on that.. 5. I recommend watching 'I am pretty’ with Rebel Wilson, she mentally shifts out of thinking she is fat and ugly to thinking she is the hottest thing on earth, and see how the universe responds to her. It's not about how you look it's about how you feel. 6. Remove all toxic / low vibe energy from your life, this could look like friends you don’t feel confident around, family members, social media accounts, literally remove everything that's not empowering you. Create space, distance yourself. Your level up will require time and effort, do you really want to waste precious energy hanging out with women who don’t elevate you? This is also about self respect. Stepping into the empowered woman that you are. Respect your time, your energy. Let go of anything and anyone that doesn’t mirror the life you want to live. 7. Create a vision. Write down the emotions you want to feel as the new you, how do you feel when you look in the mirror? When you walk down the street? When you are with your man? When you are with your friends? Get crystal clear on this vision. Focus on feeling these emotions in the now. Youtube guided visualisation meditations, learn about scripting as a tool to manifest, writing out your dreams. 8. Create time each morning for your level up. This doesn't have to be a task, this should be something special for you. Where you light your favourite candle, pull out your journal, write words of love to yourself, write your dreams, focus on your future vision, do a little mediation, sip your favourite hot drink, slowly. If you can’t do this each morning, maybe try a Sunday, at least once a week. Read books on people who have paved the path for you, women who have overcome weight-loss, body image struggles. Learn from these people and use them to inspire you. 9. Start watching empowering videos on youtube, find a mentor, Someone in real life or on social (this can be someone who's teachings resonate with you and you learn from them). 10. Literally draw a cup, with pen and paper and write all the things that fill you with joy. Focus your energy on these things in the cup. Your cup of love is your guidance. it can be anything, long baths, swimming, watching films on x topic, whatever you love, write it in your cup and start pouring your energy into those things. 11. Get familiar with the broken record that's replaying the same sentences in your mind over and over again ‘i'm worthless, i'm stupid, i'm unwanted, i'm fat, etc etc’ this is just an untrained mind running wild. You need to take back control. You need to see these thoughts for what they are, just thoughts. They are not the truth. Once you’re aware of your stories, the broken record, you’ll know when it starts playing without falling into the trap of the stories. 12. Mediation. I can’t preach enough about how much this will change your life, even 5 mins per day using an app or guided or just in silence. Meditation stills your mind with practise. And with the stillness, space is created. With this space you can start to notice throughout the day when old stories come up, it gives you the choice to choose better thoughts because your mind is no longer on auto pilot. 13. Find healers, reiki healers, inner child healers, therapists, eft (emotional freedom tapping). Attend sound baths, go to meditation centres. Completely drown yourself in self growth and level up. 14. Spend time in nature. Get out of your phone. Nature is going to help you reconnect to your true essence, nature is wild, it’s beautiful, its delicate, rugged, powerful, gentle. Mother nature is our healer on earth. Spending time on long walks, hikes, at the beach, even in the park with the phone in the pocket just looking up at the sky.

[scones-and-texting-and-murder]

Bookends

(This story was originally written for and published in the DeanCas Anthology back in 2018. )

Word Count: 2223 Rating: General ao3 link

Cas pulls as close to the door as he can, checking the rearview mirror to make sure he isn’t blocking traffic as he waits for Dean to get out of the car. Before heading inside, Dean ducks his head back in to smile at him. “I’ll get us some coffee.”

Instead of driving away, Cas stays there, watching until Dean pulls open the diner door. Leaning heavily on his cane, he shuffles more than walks, his bow-legged gait made stiff by the arthritis that wracks his joints. Cas waits until he’s safely inside, then pulls past the open handicapped space Dean stubbornly refuses to use, and finds an empty parking spot.

Cas’s car is boxy and utilitarian, and Dean often proclaims that he wouldn’t be caught dead behind the wheel of something so ugly. Cas plays along because giving up driving had been Dean’s toughest concession to age, but as his vision deteriorated and his reflexes slowed, it had become an unavoidable sacrifice. With replacement parts for the Impala harder and harder to come by, Dean had finally agreed to keep her stored safely away in their garage. Cas knew it pained him to see her shrouded under a tarp, her motor idle and useless, but Dean would rather enshrine her in pristine condition than risk one more run-in with a light pole or curb.

With his ugly car parked, Cas crosses the lot to join Dean inside. While he’s aged as well, aged to the point that nobody questions the two of them together, he’s been spared many of the maladies that Dean’s combat-wrecked body has endured, and he moves with relative ease. The best they can figure is that the grace he’d had on and off over the years left his body with a certain resilience to the passage of time. Cas can’t cure Dean as he once could, can’t ease the aches or slow the aging process, but he can use his own comparatively good health and mobility to take care of him.

Inside, Cas navigates past the hostess stand to find Dean at their usual booth, chatting with their usual waitress. The two of them go to this diner religiously each Sunday morning, where the pews are scuffed burgundy vinyl booths and the altar is the breakfast buffet with the generous senior discount. As always, Dean has maneuvered himself across the bench seat to make room for Cas to sit beside him. His cane rests against the wall in easy reach, the simple carved wooden handle belying the fact that the base unscrews to reveal a bayonet-like tip. It’s never been wielded as a weapon (although Dean uses it, still sheathed, to poke at aggressive pigeons who muscle in around their favorite park bench), but that potential made it “badass” enough to overcome Dean’s resistance to using it.

To Sam’s everlasting chagrin, Dean has kept all of his hair, and it’s turned a stunning silver. The crinkles around his eyes have deepened, meeting the roadmap of lines that cross his face. His shoulders are stooped, his joints are stiff, and Cas thinks he’s never been more beautiful. After so many seemingly certain ends, so many years assuming Dean would die young and bloodied, the fact that he’s living out a full, lengthy life is an unparallelled blessing. Cas marvels at the gift of days that have unfolded into decades, granting them time he never dreamed they’d have together here on earth.

As Cas settles into the booth, he smiles and greets their waitress.

“Two for the buffet?” she confirms as she pours their coffee. Cas doesn’t even have to check to know that she’ll leave Dean’s at a little more than half-full so he can lift it without the tremor in his hands sloshing it over the brim.

They drink their coffee quietly, simply enjoying the ritual of being here. Dean peers at the laminated card that lists the specials, even though he never orders off the menu.

“Shall I?” When Dean nods, Cas gets to his feet. “Any requests?”

“You know what I like,” Dean says, leaning over to swat at Cas’s butt.

Picking up two plates from the warmer, Cas slides them along the metal counter, filling them in tandem as he traverses the buffet. Pancakes are too difficult for Dean to get on a fork, but the crisp waffles are good. Bacon he can pick up and eat, and Cas uses the tongs to place precisely two strips on his plate. If Dean wants more, he can get up and get it himself.

Dean can argue with Cas’s choices, but they’d had a hell of a scare a few years back. Cas will never forget the look on Dean’s face when their phone rang in the middle of the night, alerting them that Sam had been taken to the hospital in an ambulance. They’d rushed there themselves, Cas driving in silence, knowing that nothing short of seeing Sam with his own two eyes could reassure Dean. Thankfully, it had been a mild heart attack and, after spending a few days in the hospital, the discharge plan called for cardiac rehab and an appointment with a nutritionist. With Sam’s release imminent, Dean had relaxed enough to crow at the irony. “Don’t either of you try to tell me what to eat ever again. Mr. Organic Produce is the one lying in the hospital bed while my pork-rind-fueled ticker is going strong.”

Still pale, Sam’s brow furrowed with resignation. “I’m beginning to think you can’t die.”

Dean jabbed a finger in his direction. “You don’t get to go first. We have a deal.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam lifted the hand without the IV in a mock salute.

“That’s more like it,” Dean said. “Speaking of which, I need a snack.”

Cas helped him up and they walked to the elevator that would take them to the cafeteria. As they waited for it to arrive, Dean pulled Cas into a hug. Cas left a hand on his shoulder when they stepped apart again. “All right?”

Dean nodded, his green eyes shining with tears. “I’m glad you’re here.” Cas started to respond, to remind him that there was nowhere else he would be, but Dean cut him off. “I know you know. But I wanted to say it anyhow.”

Cas noticed a change after that. Dean was still the same stubborn mule Cas had fallen in love with, but he gradually became more willing to let Cas help. And somehow, Cas loved him even more for it. He loved seeing the slow-blossoming acceptance that came when Dean stopped seeing Cas’s help as a sign of weakness.

Now, standing in front of the steaming trays of food, Cas considers what else to add to their plates. He bypasses the cauldron of oatmeal (they eat that at home most mornings) and continues along the buffet. There’s a tremendous satisfaction in being allowed to care for this man who has done so much for so many and asked for so little in return. In fact, Dean has now embraced this new role so fully—no longer questioning what he deserves, or grudgingly accepting help, but full-on enjoyment of being doted on—that Cas has to be careful he doesn’t get lazy. There’s nothing Cas would rather do than settle Dean in front of a sunny window, snug in the recliner for Cas to wait on like a pampered cat, but he knows that sort of inactivity would do Dean’s joints and his heart no favors. So he watches Dean’s diet and insists on them taking slow walks after breakfast when his energy is highest.

Their neighborhood is a mix of young and old and everyone knows the two Mr. Winchesters who circle the block on days when the weather permits. The kids on bikes and scooters know to give them a wide berth, their parents warning them that the old men need the entire sidewalk, but they call out their hellos as they go by. They’re friendly with everyone except the woman who lives on the corner. Dean is convinced she’s a demon, but Cas suspects his distrust of her stems more from the fact that she seems immune to his charm. (Whatever the reason, he’s had to talk Dean out of chalking a devil’s trap inside her mailbox more than once.) They chat with their neighbors about the weather and the score of last night’s ballgame, and it’s so painfully normal that Cas sometimes feels his throat tighten up at the wonder of it all.

When Cas returns to their booth, Dean examines his plate. “They outta bacon?”

Cas cuts the waffle into manageable pieces and peels the wrapper from the muffin before sliding Dean’s plate over. “You know the deal.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says. “You just like to look at my ass when I get up.”

They eat in congenial silence with Dean methodically working his way around his plate, eating everything heartily, even the fruit. Sitting next to him, Cas can easily scoop up any bites that miss his mouth, plucking them from Dean’s lap or his shirt.

“You two good?” The waitress asks when she comes to refill their coffees. “Need anything?”

Dean swallows the bite of muffin he’s working on, and rests his hand on top of Cas’s. “I’ve got everything I need right here. An actual angel, this one.”

She nods agreeably. “I can almost see his halo.”

Cas has learned that an old man can say just about anything and receive an indulgent smile in return. When Dean references angels or demons or the apocalypse, people assume he’s speaking in metaphor and they’ll nod pleasantly. Sometimes he’ll do it purely for effect, telling rambling tales from their past for the sheer enjoyment of being able to speak openly. He can’t always keep the details straight, but Cas is there to remind him. Some days, though, he seems to lose where he is in time, and there’s nothing Cas can do for that. Cas has taken to keeping a watchful eye on him in the late afternoons when he likes to doze on the couch with their one-eyed black cat curled up on his chest. Cas stays close in case he wakes from his nap agitated, calling for Cas, wanting to know where Sam is. Cas helps him to sit up as the cat springs down and scurries away.

“Don’t go,” he says again and again, and Cas takes him in his arms, assuring Dean that he’s here and reminding him that Sam is safe at his own home. He holds him until Dean shakily dismisses it all as just a bad dream.

The unfairness of it overwhelms Cas, and each time he’s left filled with wrath. These final years should be spent in well-earned peace, but instead Dean seems cursed with reliving his most frightening memories, traumatized anew by old, familiar fears. If Dean’s mind is destined to slip, why can’t it be toward blissful forgetting? What Dean has endured goes beyond what any human should; to ask him to bear it again is nothing short of cruel. But it’s a torture chamber created in his own mind, and all Cas can do is sit helplessly by, doing his best to ground Dean and bring him back to the present.

Cas looks at Dean’s empty plate. “Did you want to get some more?”

“Nah.” He’s full and happy and it’s time for their walk.

The waitress arrives to clear their plates. As he does every week, Dean asks if she needs to see his ID for the senior discount. As she does every week, she pretends to consider it before leaving the check. “You boys take your time.”

“Tip her well,” Dean says, leaning in to supervise Cas as he signs the bill.

“I always do,” Cas assures him.

When they’re ready to leave, Cas stands next to the banquette, waiting for Dean to retrieve his cane and slide himself to the edge. Using a combination of the cane and Cas’s extended arm, Dean hoists himself upright, groaning a little. Cas keeps a firm hold on him until he’s steady on his feet. Dean still dresses in layers, but these days it’s because he gets chilled easily. He favors heavy knit cardigans and as long as Cas gets the zipper started for him he can tug it up or down as needed. Cas checks him for crumbs then together they walk through the other tables crowded with families. They continue by the hostess station where a woman is wiping down menus. “See you next week,” she calls as they pass.

Cas steps forward to push open the door, and stands holding it. “Watch your step,” he says as he always does, pointing toward the raised metal threshold of the doorway.

Using his cane to steady himself, Dean shuffles his way over it, then stops to lay his hand on Cas’s cheek. His knuckles are gnarled, the skin of his palm is dry and warm, and Cas feels the same flare of awe go through him as he has since the moment he first found this glorious soul in the depths of hell.

“I am the luckiest man who has ever lived,” Dean says.

Cas kisses his palm, then takes his arm to help him on his way.

[youwontlikethisblog]

She's Ugly!

In a previous post I briefly touch on the subject of Armando and his belief of love. Here I will be going into more detail on my personal experiences as a writer who has written complex OC's with a very similar nature to that of Armando. I will be talking about some pretty heavy topics here so this is your warning if they make you uncomfortable or trigger you.

As a writer you spend most of your time doing research. You don't really spend it writing as more than 75% of the time is dedicated to researching the entirety of your story and it's characters. That means you research on mental health, social behaviors, addictions, learned behavior, coping mechanisms, ect... to create an authentic and realistic character.

When I was doing research for my OC, based on the past I wrote for them I had to look into the consequences that it carried into adulthood. I had to do a lot of research on coping mechanism and seggs addiction(I write really sad characters um but that's besides the point. Also try explaining your search history when you've got tabs and tabs about centers that deal with that addiction and so on).

[Below this I will talk about Seggsual Addiction and such. if it makes you uncomfortable skip to the next [RED]].

Doing that research I found out that many people who do have that addiction often use it as a form of escapism, control, or due to a lot more severe trauma. Sometimes it's just the feeling you get from that. Some have this addiction because of low self-esteem, feelings of worthlessness, and also because it's something they can control, or at the very least in their denial stage they believe that they can.

Seggs Addiction is when someone cannot function without it. When it becomes a problem in that person's life and ruins friendships, relationships, and their professional life. It can range from content watching to actual action of the addiction. This is a serious problem as it often leaves the people feeling helpless, dirty, lowers the quality of life and they feel a lot of shame due to it and it's something that they need professional help to be able to control and overcome, just like drug addiction.

[Now I will be talking about Armando and why this relates to this breakdown. You may proceed.]

Do I believe Armando has that? Not necessarily. I am not a professional so I cannot diagnose someone with that. I just know a lot about the subject because I had to do research on the topic in the past.

Armando is a complex character. The reason I bring this up is because he does show traits of it. Do his affairs get in the way of his professional life? Somewhat. Does it ruin friendships? Yes. Does it ruin relationships? Yes, mainly his.

We know Armando has had an array of women in his life. He is desired by a lot of women(I seriously do however believe that Mario is a s. addict).

I've thought about this part of his character for a while. I really don't know what Fernando Gaitan researched or what inspired him to write Armando's character so this is really just my own personal speculation and is not a fact of the show.

From the start we are told that Armando is a man with refined taste and high standards for his women. The secretaries tells this to Betty, if I'm not mistaken Marcela mentioned it once, and Mario tells him all the time.

A poster here in the tag made a post about the situation of Mario and Aura Maria and they did a really good job at breaking down this side of Armando; that he doesn't have a refined taste or high standards for women but rather he doesn't like involving himself with women who are not in the same social statues and circles as him because of the abuse of power that it entitles.

When he told Mario he wanted to fire Claudia for being crazy Mario reminded him of what he told him when he wanted Armando to fire Aura Maria and because of that Armando decides not to personally fire Claudia, it wasn't until Marcela asked for her head that he asked Hugo to fire her.

Now let me step away from the story and explain why I have this speculation.

Armando's parents aren't very active in his life. They're only there when it comes to the company or his relationship with Marcela(I already talked about his parents in The Art of Subtly in YSBLF post) now imagine that as you're growing up. That your parents aren't actively in your life unless you're achieving or accomplishing something. We know Armando has a sister that doesn't talk to their parents and is only in contact with him. That their mother possibly ruined her marriage to a man because he was poor. This tells us that his parents aren't the best.

A child who grows up having to overcompensate and over achieve grows up with low self-esteem, feelings of worthlessness, and other problems. They grow up believing that the only way they are worthy of love is by being perfect and they become obsessed with achieving perfection.

Due to this upbringing Armando is a control freak, neurotic, egocentric, and obsessed with perfection. He gets stressed out when things don't go his way. He has grown up in the fashion world and beauty has been fed to him that it is tall, thin, and above all has to be perfect.

A child is a product of their environment.

This has molded Armando into the person he is today.

On top of that Armando basically has his entire life planned out by his parents as a child who grew up hearing about the desire for him to be with Marcela to honor his parents best friends, for the good of the company, ect.

To receive his parents love he must do what his parents tell him, no exceptions. He must be the best at everything so he always aims high. In his proposal to be president he did exactly that.

Ironically Armando too is a people pleaser and feels like he has little to no control over his destiny.

So flings with Models become a form to cope. Though for a long time he enjoys those flings and what it entitles as it makes him feel good about himself, he is able to decide who he has a fling with but then it no longer is that.

My OC's addiction is driven by the desire of feeling wanted and needed. It boost her self-esteem though when it's over with she feels empty and hollow inside and we get a scene of Armando expressing those exact feelings to Mario the night he meets Ms. Colombia.

As they are leaving the cocktail Mario is upset that he[Armando] was leaving because he was so close to closing in on Ms. Colombia being his next conquest and that he couldn't change her for Marcela, who was always going to be there. Armando goes to explain something to him. He tells him that though at first he does get excited over the women and he does want to sleep with them that as soon as it's over he feels nothing anymore, that he doesn't enjoy it anymore.

This is part of a cycle and we see that.

Armando, before Betty, has the idea that if he falls in love it will be with a physically perfect woman who knows where she's standing and the only person that is like that is Marcela. He's got three reasons to marry her: He wanted her vote, his parents, and because she's what is mentioned above.

When Betty is introduce into his life she isn't what he expects in his dream woman. He expects perfection in a physical sense. However Betty has everything he wants in his dream woman in substance and personality.

He knows he likes Betty's personality but because she isn't physically perfect, he believes he isn't interested in her or attracted to her but because he likes her personality so much he believes he's entitled to her which is what drives his jealousy, it is not love.

Armando isn't in love with Betty here or at least not yet.

Betty embodies everything he wants and desires in a woman. She is humble, kind, respectful, unconditional, faithful, smart, like really smart and he likes that about her a lot, submissive and selfless.

However because the package isn't what he thinks is perfect, he cancels out. He denies that he likes her and he denies that he cares about her because of it.

So when Mario suggest for Armando to make Betty fall in love, Armando is apprehensive and disgusted by it.

Let's be honest, Betty isn't ugly! She's adorable! I will fight anyone who disagrees with this. Betty is cute and has always been cute.

I have spoken about Armando's emotional confusion a lot in the past few days but I haven't spoken about the mechanics of the confusion he is dealing with.

Denial is a strong defense mechanism. Subconsciously he has feelings for Betty and is attracted to her because of her personality but consciously he isn't. The mystery of the mind is never ending.

sub·con·scious /səbˈkänSHəs/

adjective of or concerning the part of the mind of which one is not fully aware but which influences one's actions and feelings. "my subconscious fear"

Armando's behavior towards finding out that Betty is in love has been dominated by his subconscious. However when it comes to facing those feelings he enters denial, therefore he cannot fathom the idea of ever being involved with someone so "ugly".

con·scious /ˈkän(t)SHəs/

adjective aware of and responding to one's surroundings; awake.

Armando is aware that Betty isn't his ideal of the type of women he is physically attracted to. He is aware the she isn't the standard of beauty.

Due to this he is refusing to listen to Mario.

Now that we understand this we can continue with the episode breakdown.

After Betty leaves, Armando is upset because Nicolas is the General Manager of Terra Moda(it feeds his paranoia talked about in the Betty, My Betty Part 3 post) .

Once again Armando and Mario switch roles. Armando is now aware of his conscious desires and he's sticking by them. Mario however is aware of Armando's subconscious desires.

Mario tries to level with him. He tells him that they can tell Betty to fire him but Armando rejects that by telling him that he does a good job and that Betty says he's important for Terra Moda, therefore Eco Moda, again this shows that Armando doesn't distrust of them in a professional sense. So they both agree that they shouldn't tell Betty to fire him. Mario first suggested that they reverse the seizure against Eco Moda and Armando goes on to reject that and explain why they can't do that. So Mario tells Armando that they need to think of something because it is a business deal involving them three; Armando, Himself, and Betty.

They agree that asking Betty to fire or take away so much responsibility from Nic could give way to Betty becoming hostile and resentful. Mario tells him that it would also be unfair since she's always been so unconditional with the both, Armando agrees.

We get to divides here. Two sides of the nickel.

Mario's priority and main concern is keeping Eco Moda and Armando as president for what it gives him.

Armando's priority is Betty's love life(Why else would he be so worried about her love life? A normal boss wouldn't care about your love life. Armando knows that Betty is a good and trustworthy employee and he said so himself).

Mario as always watched Armando carefully. The third and best option would have been to simply talk to Betty and be professionals and leave things alone and not doing anything about Betty's love life.

Mario tells Armando "Well the best option is to make Betty fall in love with you."

Armando goes on to say that he would never do that because he doesn't have the desire to and doesn't want to because Betty is ugly(this is why I said what I did above). Mario stops using the fear of losing Eco Moda and goes for the emotional because he knows that it will affect Armando's subconscious that will dominate him like it had been all day long.

"You're the perfect candidate because if it weren't for Nicolas showing up, I could have sworn she was in love with you. No, seriously, look at the way she looks at you, she's always been unconditional with you(he knows this is one of the qualities that Armando likes about Betty as he always lists it). My friend, if there's anyone that is capable of fighting against Nicolas Mora, it's the president of Eco Moda(here he is appealing to Armando's ego)."

What does Mario get out of all of this? Reputation in tact which allows him to continue living his best single life, which he said himself is his most prized possession. So it is important to him that Armando does whatever it takes to keep Betty from doing anything to get a husband(post Betty, My Betty! Part 3).

Fast forward Armando is in Marcela's apartment after the new collection launch and they're fighting because Armando let Betty into the event.

He not only defends his decision of inviting her as his guest but Betty's job and her role in the new collection. Marcela scoffs and they continue to argue.

What captured my attention though is that Armando tells Marcela that she can't be in a competing so absurd with a woman like Betty and shouldn't be in a feminine competition with her.

Armando is now go to the otherside of the room so we get his back as Marcela starts to speak ("You're wrong Armando I don't view her as a woman")and as she says "I am offended that you would think I feel she's a feminine competition-" Armando now looks at her confused.

Either he is confused because he doesn't understand what Marcela is trying to say or once again his subconscious is dominating him here.

The takeaway is that in Armando's mind Betty is a woman, ugly, but a woman nonetheless. He is confused as to why Marcela doesn't view her as a woman but still behaves the way she does.

We again get a classic scene of Betty writing in her diary as we hear her dialogue and get scenes of Armando in Marcela's bed.

We see Armando thinking about what Mario told him earlier that night.

When Mario told him that he would've sworm that Betty was in love with him[Armando] in that scene we didn't really get a reaction from him. He had a poke face but here, as he is thinking about it all he has a different look.

We stop getting a visual flashback, only an auditory one after Mario told him "I could've sworn she was in love with you." and the frame we're getting is Armando's face while laying in bed. He seems hopeful. The exact same expression he had when Betty told him that she didn't have anything with Nicolas.

We hear Mario's voice when he told him "If there's anyone who can fight Nicolas for Betty's love, it's the president of Eco Moda." Armando shifts in bed and covers his face. We then fade to Betty asleep on her bed and get another fade to Armando, this allows us to know that they are about to have another shared dream.

Armando is the mvp of this dream ss the camera focuses on him right away.

He seems happy in this dream as he runs around with Betty in a field with bright green grass and trees. He continues turns to look at Betty or allows Betty to lead him. Then in the dream Betty disappears and Armando is left alone, searching around him with a scared expression on his face until Betty finally appears in front of him. She nears him with her lips slightly puckered and Armando smiles and as well moves in closer until Betty runs away from him again.

The dreams shows us this two more times where Betty runs from him until the final time when Armando finds her and they near for a kiss we then get a real world Armando in bed shaking his head mumbling no, we can assume they are kissing in the dream.

This foretells what is to come. In Betty's eyes this is a good dream but we also know that due to her past Betty is afraid to love again which we're told this by her constant running away from Armando in the dream.

Armando's fear is brought to light in this dream that is of him losing Betty as it reoccurs more than once and each time he goes out to find her. There is times when he does want to kiss her but Betty pulls away and runs and then on the final one he becomes conscious in his dream(yes that happens, it's called lucid dreaming and sometimes it randomly happens).

The fact we kept getting fades from both Armando and Betty sleeping lets us know this was a dream simontainsly happening at the same time and it isn't until after they actually kiss that Armando's conscious starts to wake him up.

Marcela then finishes waking him up in the real world and asks Armando what he was dreaming, he tells her a horrible nightmare.

Again, Armando is aware that he doesn't find Betty to be his ideal perfect woman or the beauty standard. You know, she's "ugly" so having something physical even in a dream is a nightmare to him. The thing to take note of is that he was enjoying the beginning of that dream and it demonstrates his subconscious feelings.

We already Betty loved that dream.

The next morning Marcela mentions that if he doesn't talk about the dream he must secretly want it to come true.

His coping mechanism towards this entire situation has been denial. It protects him from having to face his true feelings and fears. It protects him from something he isn't ready to deal with yet.

He starts choking on his juice and coughing as Marcela watches him.

Marcela telling him this pushes him to face those fears of his, the fear that he does like Betty and that he does care about her more than just his employee however again, he is in denial therefore unable to understand this.

[You know I will write a post about how Aura Maria and Freddy are a parallel of Betty and Armando.]

Neither Betty or Armando talk about their dream to anyone, or at least the real content of said dream, which based on what Marcela insinuated, Armando secretly wants that dream to come true.

This is a fact because later on when Armando has that nightmare of Betty making out with Nicolas inside the new car they got, he tells Marcela about the nightmare or at least some distorted version of it, because he doesn't want that nightmare to come true. This time though he doesn't talk about it.

Betty clarifies the situation between Nicola and her roll in Terra Moda and Armando thanks her for it.

When she goes into her office Armando tells Mario that he's right about making Betty fall in love.

This next scene I already broke down in another post. Armando suggest Mario for the job because he knows that Mario would never fall in love with Betty but at least it would secure the company. However since Mario would never fall in love with Betty that would mean that he wouldn't have competition since you know these two pigs share everything.

Not only that but it would mean that he gets to avoid and deny his feelings without the worry of Nicolas and Betty ending up together and Nicolas turning her against him.

Armando tells Mario that he gets that it's the more logical thing that he[Armando] is the one to make Betty fall in love but that it's not morally correct.

He gets angry as he tells him that he can't do that to her, a woman who has been very special to him, too special towards him. Again this shows that Armando takes notice and likes that Betty treats him the way she does and because of that he doesn't want to hurt her and he knows that she doesn't deserve that.

However Mario then pulls the "your parents will be so disappointed and angry at you if you lose the company. So do you have to decide whether you'll be a rat to your parents or Betty."

As they discuss the sinister plan they solely based the problem in the physicality. As Armando even said himself the only bad thing about the plan was that Betty was ugly. If Betty wasn't ugly Armando wouldn't be afraid to face his feelings therefore be upfront about them.

However because she is it clashes with all his other traits. His ego, vanity, obsession with perfection and the fact he was unable to be in control over who he ends up falling in love with or liking.

I don't know what worse, Armando knowing how selfish the plan is against Betty and still going along with the it for the sake of the company and his unwillingness to admit to his parents that he was wrong or Mario knowing exactly what's going and how to manipulate Armando to do this and not caring about his best friends feelings and the guilt he will carry on as long as Armando remains president for his own greed.

In the next post I will breakdown the scene in which Armando drunkenly confesses somewhat his very confused feelings.

'Til next time :)

Ps. Sorry for all this typos! I'm an insomniac so I usually write these sleep deprived lol.

[jinxxedwammys]

Ok hear me out. I’ve listened to “Sway with me (slowed)” by Cytus II and I have this whole imagine of the reader at a masquerade ball as an undercover agent, and as The Wammy Bois (preferably L or Near) S/O or crush. Well the situation turns for the worst and L (or near) rushes out into the party (he was originally watching on cams) to get a hold of the situation to either like confront the Bad Guy or just protect the reader. Idk I think about it when I listen to the song. Love your writing btw

Aww thanks anon, I'm glad you like my writing! And damn, I like this one a lot! This calls for a fic. Thanks for requesting! (Not me accidentally making this somewhat like that ball scene in Black Butler.. oof)

For this I chose L and decided not to do Near, I hope that's okay.

Warnings: Mentions of human trafficking, Main antagonist being a creep, daggers.

(Image from some wallpaper site and very lightly and badly edited with befunky)

The night was young, the sun had only just set below the horizon plunging the city into darkness. At 8PM this night there was a masquerade ball at a very wealthy businessman's mansion. As all the high society guests exited their limousines and luxury cars escorted by servants you stood staring at the lavish mansion.

"I feel so out of place here... Do I really blend in enough?" You quietly asked Watari who stood beside you as your "servant". You shifted uncomfortably and looked to him for an answer.

"Yes, of course you do. You fit in very well. Please do not worry, I'm sure you will be alright in there." He bowed before reentering the drivers seat of the vehicle you'd arrived in. You took a deep breath before carefully ascending the marble stairs leading to he door. Before you could be noticed by anyone in particular, you placed the earpiece you had been provided in your ear disguising it with your hair.

Unlike the other guests, tonight wasn't about enjoyment or entertainment for you. You were assisting with an investigation into one of the high class men attending this party known as Daniel Grant. He had been suspected of human trafficking, though it seems he had been doing more than just that. A recent investigation by the private investigator known only to the public as L suggested that he may potentially be behind multiple murders in the area. As it happens, you were the lynchpin in solving this case and getting the evidence needed to put Daniel Grant and all involved behind bars.

He seemed to target young people between the ages of 18 and 25. As it happens, you were perfect for that role. You were also a police officer. So only two weeks ago, you had been asked to assist the one and only L. Of course, when he contacted you, you were overjoyed. Finally, something more interesting than petty crime! But now, as you entered the lavish mansion you were far less confident than you were when you initially joined.

You knew L was watching the camera feeds from the CCTV system, but it still didn't calm your nerves. You nervously approached the table where the guest sign in book was placed, carefully signing your alias. Then you made your way to the ballroom where the party was held. You took a deep breath and adjusted your mask before entering into the room.

Inside, everyone was chatting amongst themselves every single person dressed very formally, women in beautiful ballgowns, men in fancy suits. Every single one wore a masquerade mask, some plain and simple, some adorned with gemstones, lace and other ornate designs. Everyone went silent when one man tapped his glass with a fork.

"Hello everyone, I'd like to thank you for attending tonight. Thank you all for celebrating my niece's 20th birthday with us" He motioned to a young girl blonde girl wearing a dark pink dress with a black lace mask. Everyone gave a short applause in response. "Please enjoy yourselves" He bowed slightly. You hadn't known this was a birthday party beforehand. You wondered what Daniel Grant had to do with this girl. About 20 minutes into the party, you decided to check in with L as you hadn't heard a thing from him since you arrived. You excused yourself to the bathroom.

"L are you listening?" You asked quietly and waited for a response.

"Yes, I am, is anything wrong?" He asked. You shook your head before you realized he couldn't see you right now, there were no cameras in the bathroom.

"N..No, I haven't seen Daniel yet either... I was just making sure you were there." you hurriedly replied.

"Mmh, I'll guide you to him if you would like, I can see him on the cameras." He replied clearly eating something.

"Okay, please do!" You left the bathroom and reentered the ballroom doing your best to hide the fact that you were scanning the room for the suspect. L's voice came over the earpiece again, this time instructing you to look for a woman in an emerald green dress near the center of the room. You entered the crowd of guests. Your eyes widened slightly when you saw the woman L had been talking about. She was in fact talking to Daniel Grant. They seemed to know each other. You stayed back, waiting for L to say something.

"Seems like you found them, stay back for a little while, I'll tell you when to approach" He said. You of course didn't respond since you were surrounded by others in earshot. You casually checked your pockets and approached another guest making small talk to kill time. You had taken your eyes off of him for a second, and the moment you looked back, the niece was talking to him. L seemed to notice as well.

"Daniel is currently talking to an important innocent. Please intervene now." You looked around the room before casually approaching the two.

"Hello, I came to wish you a happy birthday!" You said, sort of putting yourself between them. She nodded, thanking you and went back to talking with Daniel. You sighed in annoyance, but persisted.

"Hey, could you by any chance show me to the washroom? I've been looking for it and I just can't find it" You asked. She looked at Daniel, excusing herself from their conversation before leading you to said washroom.

"I'm sorry for inconveniencing you... Oh.. and I think it would be best if you stayed away from that man." She gave you a quizzical look.

"Why is that? He's one of my mother's friends." She asked. You were kind of shocked. Another detail L had left out. You questioned if he trusted you before ultimately banishing the thought. Of course he trusted you. You wouldn't be the one confronting the guy if he didn't.

"Just trust me, he's no good" You warned. It was clear that she didn't take your words seriously whatsoever. She scoffed and left. Now what? You wondered. And just like that, L's voice came through again.

"I want you to talk to him, try your best to get him away from her." Immediately you left the bathroom and made your way back to the ballroom again. By now, there were a few people dancing. Unfortunately Daniel seemed to be one of them, but you had a plan. Dance your way to him! You started off with a tall man with a purple tie, then to an average height lady in a light blue dress, then a lady with a fuchsia pink dress, and so on until finally, you were dancing with Daniel.

"You're the person who rudely interrupted my lovely conversation with the guest of honor" He observed. His voice was cold, though there was a tinge of intrigue.

"And what of it?" You sort of snapped. He smirked, it sent chills up your spine. You backed away slightly, but he closed the distance.

"Oooh, I like them feisty" He growled into your ear. You couldn't help your face twisting in disgust at that.

"Why don't we go... somewhere more private" He suggested. It was then that L's voice came on through your earpiece.

"Go with him, I want to see what he'll do" You gulped. You really didn't want to go anywhere with that creep. But L's orders... You nodded and Daniel led you upstairs. You both stood in front of a bedroom door. He opened it, directing you to go inside. As you did, his eyes seemed to undress you. It was then that he took out a dagger holding it to your neck.

Meanwhile, L sat in his temporary investigation headquarters observing your actions. He had just stuck a piece of cake in his mouth when you had been attacked. He had not expected Daniel to be armed. You were in grave danger and he knew it. He immediately stood up, the fork clattered to the ground and the plate the cake had been on shattered as it hit the floor. He didn't care.

"Y/N, hang in there, I'll be there soon" he quickly said to you before rushing to get Watari and speed off to the party. The car ride seemed to take forever. Every second of it, he watched and listened. Daniel seemed to be just threatening you for the time being, but at any second, he might just kill you. The very second they arrived, L clumsily jumped out of the car and rushed up the stairs to the manor, past the guards outside and up another flight of stairs to where you were.

L had for the first time in his life, brought a gun in case things got even more ugly, but he doubted he'd need it. Daniel didn't seem like the type to be bold enough to kill in front of another person. Even so, he gripped the gun before entering.

"Let them go!" L commanded. Daniel's head snapped in his direction.

"Get out, this is none of your business" Daniel said, turning back to you.

"It is my business, that happens to by my significant other you have there." You blinked. Significant other? Is he acting? You thought before mentally reprimanding yourself for thinking that now. L moved a little closer.

"Oh.... She is... I'm sorry" Daniel backed away. It was kind of comical how he looked like a scolded dog. You stood up and walked towards L, glancing back a few times at Daniel to ensure he wasn't going to get violent again. And without another word, L led you out of the manor to safety. Though there was one question burning in your chest. When you were safely in the car you decided to voice it.

"L... Do you actually like me?" L turned to you, his expression was completely unreadable.

"Yes" He said almost monotonously. But that was good enough for you.

[missallsundayyy]

PRETEND

LAW AND ROBIN HAS BEEN LIVING RENT FREE IN MY HEAD FOR MONTHS I JUST HAVE TO KEEP WRITING BOUT THEM UNTIL IM SATISFIED🍂🍂

“Nico-ya” Trafalgar Law walked towards the now sun tanning archeologist. He won't tell this to anybody but the StrawHat pirates' Archeologist had captured his attention from the very start. Her captivating looks aside, her charm, calm and collected personality trait made her stand out from the rest of her crew. Amongst the rowdy and incendiary of her nakamas she was more sensible, wise, smart and nubile in every way. Okay maybe he was just being biased but he certainly would rather be around Nico Robin more than anyone else right now.

Robin turned to see the captain of the Heart pirates and their now trusted ally. “Law-kun?” she acknowledged him with a smile. Something about the introverted man provoked her thoughts often and she was still deciding if she liked it or not.

“I'd like to discuss something with you before we reach Dressrosa” He said, trying hard not to stare at her very exposed body. He admit that she was a very attractive woman.

“Dressrosa is known as a country of love and affection and while I am a very wanted man once I step foot there. We all need disguises and roles once we reach there.”

“Where are you going with this?” Robin asked

“I'd like us to pretend that we’re married when we reach Dressrosa” Law spit his words out as fast as he could, trying to hide the embarrassment on his face. He was basically asking the most attractive woman he’d ever met to play pretend in an intimate way.

Robin was taken aback by his proposal and she had anticipated anything but that.

“Fufufufu, don't you think our navigator, Nami would be more suitable for this role, Law-kun?”

Law frowned at her assumption, why would she think that the loud and violent woman would be a good partner for him.

“I rather not..choose..her” Law said, “No offence”

“If i would be of help then of course i don't mind roleplaying with you Law-kun but I have to warn you that i might be boring company to you.” a teasing tone laced her reply,

“Rest assured i think you’re far from boring Nico-ya”

TIME SKIP

“Will this outfit be okay?” Robin came out of the room that she and Law had booked to share.

Law looked at the woman before him and wondered what magic she had cast upon him, never was he so attracted to a woman nor was he EVER easily awed. He wasn’t interested in this particular thing anyway so why was he so intrigued by Nico Robin of all people.

“Yes, you look good. Now let's go. We’ll be making a stop at a tavern to get some information about the guards here.”

Robin and Law left their room and went to walk in town and right away she noticed his awkwardness by how his body language was so stiff.

“ Am I making you uncomfortable Law-kun?” Robin asked concerned, she was starting to be insecure and thought that he definitely should have chosen Nami instead.

“Wha? What! No!” he stuttered. “It’s just I'm not around women, ever.”

Robin laughed from relief, “Well if we’re supposed to be married we should act more like a couple right?” with that she closed all the gap between both of them and took his arms and interlocked it with hers. Law’s eyes widened at her actions and the fact that his arms was literally squeezed against her big breasts

“Oi! Whaa”

“Oh look! That's' the tavern, it's quite big isn’t it.” Robin interrupted him and proceeded to drag the captain towards the building.

“It looks like where all the ruffians would gather” he replied

IN THE TAVERN

Law was about to dissect all the men in the tavern, if he thought the strawhat’s cook was terrible these men were 100 times worse.

“Are you alone beautiful? Why not you join me and my men back there!” a sluggish man slumped himself beside Robin. She ignored his presence entirely to which the man didn't take kindly for it.

“Oi woman you either sit with us willingly or I'll drag you there personally and make you into our crew’s slave.” he threatened.

“I’m sorry mister but..” Robin stood up and leaned against where Law was sitting, he had already gripped his sword ready to cut him to pieces. Robin settled in on Law and sat down on his lap to his fucking surprise.  “I’m married  and my husband will cut you into thousands of  pieces if you insist on talking to me that way, am i right dear?”  Robin turned and gave him the sweetest smile she could and he played along with her, kinda.

“If you don't leave my sight now I'll scatter your body parts across the New World.”

It took Law one look to send the barbaric man scurrying away muttering strings of curses.

“You’re such a protective husband, thank you Law-kun” Robin said and gave him a kiss across the cheek. Law blushed profusely and gave her an astounded look  “Ara….looks like i got carried away with our acting, my apologies Law-kun fufufu”

"You seem to enjoy yourself Nico-ya but I don't mind it if it's with you." he said cooly regaining his composure.

"In fact i'm glad that it's you Law-kun. Bar-tender, keep the drinks coming for my husband” a smirk formed onto his face.

Things were going to get ugly soon he might as well enjoy himself as much as he could. What an amazing way to be doing so with the one and only Nico Robin. He returned her play and wrapped one arm around her waist while she stayed put comfortably on his lap. He buried his face in her neck and breathed the floral scent that she naturally has.

Perfect, even if it is temporary.

[cherishingstydia]

Thank you for the idea @lilywoood 😘

1.

It was a pretty slow day at work. Everyone was basically just sitting around playing on their phones between the few calls they’d gotten. Buck couldn’t help but notice that Eddie was paying no attention to anything other than his phone. What was so interesting? Who was so interesting?

He moved closer to get a better look. Then he realized Eddie was texting someone. He had to know who so he glanced over seeing the name “Rebecca” at the top of the screen. Buck was mad but how can he be mad Eddie is a grown man and can talk to who ever he wants.

Buck felt like his heart was breaking, but it’s not like Eddie is his boyfriend, Eddie is his best friend...his straight bestfriend who has no interest in him. A wave of jealousy over took him and he couldn’t keep quiet.

“Who’s that?” Buck asked quickly.

“A mom from Christopher’s school.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you talking to her?”

“Chris is going to a sleepover, and I just wanted more details.”

“Oh.”

“Why do you care who I talk to?” Eddie asked

“I don’t. Well what are we doing that night?”

“Who said I was hanging out with you? Maybe I have plans...a date perhaps?”

“You have a date?” Buck laughed hoping it was a joke because he definitely was not ready to see Eddie date anyone.

“No, but is that really so he’s to believe?”

“No I just I didn’t...I don’t know. So do you wanna do something.”

“Well I was just saying I could, but let’s just get some takeout.”

Buck was relieved to know as of now there was no date for Eddie....well he wanted Eddie happy, and dating again if that’s what Eddie wants. But he wants to be the one making him happy, and the one dating him.

2.

“Hey Buck you busy tonight?” Eddie asked.

“No.” Buck smiled.

“Great do you wanna come over for pizza with Chris and I?”

“I’d love to.” Buck smiled.

These were some of Bucks favorite nights. When the three of them were all together they really felt like a family.

Buck waited and waited after Eddie went to the door. He could tell that delivery person was flirting with Eddie he heard them laughing and Eddie was maybe flirting back, but it was a guy...why is Eddie flirting with a guy?

“Did you need some more money?” Buck said placing his hand on Eddies lower back and making eye contact with the delivery man.

“No.” he said quickly as he left.

“Buck you didn’t have to be rude.”

“He was flirting and I’m hungry. I’ve seen you try to flirt we could have been here all night.”

“Oh so you’re only here for the pizza?” Eddie smirked.

“Well Chris too.”

“Maybe I should have got his number since you don’t want me around.”

“His number? You and a guy?”

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” Eddie asked.

“No.”

So now Buck knows Eddie might not be as straight as he thought making him even more jealous thinking about how Eddie wasn’t just being nice he probably was flirting with the delivery guy. Maybe he was interested in that delivery guy.

3.

The monthly night out for the 118 used to be fun, but it seems like everyone wants Eddie. Which Buck understands because Eddie is really hot, and then you get to know him and he’s the most amazing person ever, but he still wishes there was some flaw to turn people off from Eddie. Something that would drive people away.

Eddie usually dances with him, but not tonight. Buck just hates it hates having Eddie so far away...well across the room. Buck sat at the corner booth staring at Eddie who was getting more drinks as he chatted up a beautiful woman.

“Stop pouting.” Hen whispered.

“I’m not.” Buck growled.

“Jealousy's an ugly color on you.” Chimney whispered.

“I’m not jealous.” Buck groaned.

“Ok.” Hen smirked.

“Look Buck I get it she’s beautiful, but Eddie deserves to have a little fun don’t you think.” Chimney smiled.

“I’m not jealous of Eddie.”

“So you’re jealous of her?” Bobby asked.

“I don’t....leave me alone.” Buck said crossing his arms even tighter and letting out a deep breath.

And surprisingly enough they all left him alone, which was rare. Generally they’d keep pestering him.

4.

On a call this woman was all over Eddie, and for what? She fell into Eddie who caught her and she wouldn’t take her hands off.

“I didn’t mean to fall.” She said batting her eyelashes.

“We’re all clumsy sometimes.” Eddie said politely.

“Since you’re such a great catch would you like to get some dinner?”

Buck rolled his eyes Her lines were terrible and there was just something about her Buck instantly disliked, but maybe that’s because she’s also interested in Eddie.

“I don’t think so.” Eddie replied.

Excepted told her no several times more and she just wouldn’t drop it. Kept trying to convince him no matter how much he said he wasn’t interested. The problem is he wasn’t being stern enough he was saying no without being rude she was so persistent. She's the type of person you have to be rude to in order to get the point across.

“He said no.” Buck said angrily.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” She said.

“If the roles were reversed and he was pressuring you into a date how would you feel?” Buck asked angrily.

“I’d like it.” The woman said smugly.

“Haven’t you ever been hit in and been uncomfortable? This is the same thing as some creep at a bar who won’t take no for an answer.” Buck said.

“Buck it’s fine. I’m not going out with her.”

“Whatever.” The woman scoffed before walking away.

5.

The 118 was doing a charity calendar, and Eddies month he was going shirtless. Buck was throwing a fit. He knows it’s Eddies body and it’s not his business but the idea of a bunch of horny middle aged perverts drooling over Eddie was not something he enjoyed the thought of...he wants to be the only one drooling over Eddie, and seeing him shirtless. Which will literally never happen since Eddie is like sex on a stick.

“I just don’t see why you have to be shirtless.” Buck shrugged.

“Buck it’s fine.” Eddie laughed.

“Why are you gonna be shirtless? You just want them all ogling you.”

“Buck why do you care?” Eddie asked.

“I don’t want them all looking at you.” Buck blurted and everyone stared. “I mean me they should look at me.” Buck said running away in embarrassment.

“Buck what is your problem?” Eddie said following after.

“I don’t have a problem. Just leave me alone.” Buck hissed.

“What’s with you lately?” Eddie sighed and walked away.

Eddie was gonna find out. Buck was trying to bury his feelings, but it’s a lot harder than he thought. Buck hated the way he was acting. Hated feeling like he was a bad friend, but he didn’t want Eddie to know the truth. He couldn’t let Eddie know how jealous he was of the idea of anyone looking at him. He felt possessive and he hated it, but he couldn’t help it he wanted Eddie all for himself.

+1

The best way to get over someone is to get under someone new...not that Buck had ever been under Eddie. He stared at Eddie wishing Eddie would feel the same, but he doesn’t and he never will.

Buck stared at the dating app he’d just set up. Not that he knows any of these people, but none will be any where close to as amazing as Eddie. He tries to be positive and think he could meet someone, but he knows he’ll compare them all to Eddie and they won’t measure up.

“Whatcha doing Buckaroo?” Hen asked.

“Well I think I need to start dating again. So why not start online. Easy way to meet people.

“Don’t you know enough people?” Eddie hissed.

“Yeah, but it’s not like anyone is lining up to date me, so I have to look for new people.”

“Maybe you aren’t looking hard enough.” Eddie growled storming out of the room.

“What’s his deal?” Buck rolled his eyes.

“Maybe talk to him.” Hen said.

“Why?” Buck asked with a raised brow.

“Just trust me ok.” Hen smiled.

Buck trusted Hen so he took her advice. Unfortunately every time he tried to talk to Eddie, he kept avoiding. He’d ignore him every time he tried to interact.

Ok so two can play at this game. If he was gonna be immature Buck was gonna be immature too. Buck slashed one of Eddies tires, and leaned against the truck to wait for him...which in hindsight it may have been a bit rash.

“Did you just slash my tire?” Eddie asked angrily.

“Yeah I’ll change it, and pay for a new spare, but I had to because you wouldn’t talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Obviously there is. You’re so pissed and I don’t even know why.”

“That’s my problem, you don’t even know. I try and try and it’s like you don’t even notice.”

“What? What do you mean...what are you trying? Just tell me.”

“I was jealous.”

“You don’t need to be you’ll find someone.”

“For someone so smart you can be really stupid sometimes.” Eddie said and in a moment Buck found himself pinned between Eddie and the truck, and Eddies lips were against his in a desperate kiss. “I was jealous because I hate the idea of you dating someone who isn’t me, but I just want you to be happy, and if that’s not with me that’s fine, but I can’t help how I feel.”

“Eddie do you have any idea how jealous I get every time I think you’re interested in someone, or when someone is interested in you.”

“You’re jealous too...so what does that mean exactly?”

“It means I like you...a lot.” Buck smiled.

“I like you a lot too Buck.” Eddie grinned.

“So what now?” Buck asked.

“You know what I wanna see...you on your knees.” Eddie whispered and Buck let out a small whimper. “fixing my fucking tire that you decided you needed to slash.”

“Fuck.” Buck whispered.

“We will, but right now you’re fixing my tire.” Eddie laughed.

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

Ok so TOS S3E5, Is There in Truth No Beauty? is like???? So good???? So good for us aros????? It's late and this post is a mess but I needed to say it

So Spock and Miranda are set up as parallels right, and Miranda is one of the most well-written and developed women I've ever seen from Trek. She's super competent and honestly a queen but also has flaws so you know she's like actually round and can grow??

And she is 100% ARO. Like there's someone in the beginning section of the episode (another surprisingly well written character) who is super needy and says he loves her and she explicitly says, "I can't love you like you want me to love you." (WHOA big props for distinction between types of love!!) That person responds by basically calling her frigid, but when he starts thinking of murder, she (a telepath) doesn't judge him, but just tries to help him work through his feelings. He takes a jab at her for this too, but the point is she's framed as a very empathetic and caring person, although she follows the Vulcan philosophy in many ways as well (again, parallel to Spock) so she doesn't come off as exceedingly emotional.

Also when she's at dinner with the triumvirate, Jim is kind of coming onto her by saying "How did the men at the base not stop you from leaving? ...Well I'm glad they didn't, otherwise I wouldn't have met you," and then Bones says "How could someone so beautiful choose to spend her entire life being with someone so ugly?" (She is the companion/representative of an ambassador who is a very good being, but is so ugly that it drives anyone who sees it insane.) They then toast to her beauty (Spock refrains). And she says to Bones, "How can someone so full of joy and the love of life like yourself choose to spend your entire life being surrounded by death and disease? Eh, gentlemen?" ROASTEEEEEEDDDD anyways she makes a toast of her own (I think to progress?) and then Bones responds with, "To whatever you want, Miranda" in the most respectful tone and it's great.

ANYWAYS, Miranda eventually gets approached romantically by Jim (kind of as a ploy but kind of not), but she rejects him, and he proceeds to say what all aros have heard before: "You're young!", "Eventually, you'll want someone to love," "You're attractive. You want to spend your life with someone so ugly?" etc. and she just OWNS him and says no, she isn't interested in that, and anyway what right does he have to determine whether someone is too ugly or beautiful to be worth spending time with?

And then the issue between her and Spock is she doesn't want Spock to meld with the ambassador, because she's jealous and protective of the connection she's established with the ambassador and doesn't want him to take her place--which is a huge aro mood--but this jealousy is NOT because of some romantic motivation from her towards the ambassador!! And this is confirmed several times!!

Bones is trying to explain to Jim that Miranda wants to help Spock, and Jim is not buying it because "they're rivals" and Bones says "But not rivals in love!"

When the Ambassador is sharing Spock's body I was full-on ready for them to do the whole "I have a body and can kiss you now!" schtick but they DIDN'T and instead he just comforts Miranda and briefly takes her hand in a reassuring way (which he does in part because she's blind! So even cooler!!) and they are clearly close but they are friends!

And at the end she leaves with the ambassador, having gotten what she wanted (there's a cool moment about it when Bones is saying goodbye) which is a sense of security in her role/friendship with the ambassador. They DIDN'T DO THE WHOLE "I know how to love now!!" bit at the end!! We stay winning!

(Also Bones was written super well this episode because he noticed that she was blind and kept it private to respect her, and when Jim asked why Bones didn't mention it he said, "She'd have told you if she wanted you to know" so the respecting women juice was HUGE here.) She hadn't wanted to tell anyone she was blind because she hated being pitied, and she told this to Jim in their conversation as well, which means she intended it to be a comment not only about pity for her blindness, but also pity for her lack of romantic interest. She didn't want to be pitied for not wanting that with someone, which is a HUGE mood!

I was also ready for them to try something with shipping Spock and Miranda since they were so similar and they were having many other characters be interested in her, but NO they didn't do that either. She actually takes a jab at Jim about that, because as Spock is lying there comatose, she says, "You'd probably try to tell me to wake him with a kiss," and I'm like OWN HIM QUEEN bc he basically responds by calling her inhuman (rip aphobic Jim...he does this every once in a while). But no instead of having there be something romantic between her and Spock, she just saved his life and they had nice platonic conversations and respected each other greatly!!

But ALSO also what is great is (not to make this awesome woman-centric post into being about a man but):

Clearly all of Spock's interactions this episode were platonic, since he parallels her and that's certainly how they intended her interactions with him to be (and can I say how nice it is to see Spock interact with an intellectual equal--he even admits her telepathy is more advanced than his--and just have that respect there without that undertone of "are they trying to ship them...?" It's SO nice). Also a great moment at the start of the episode with Spock saying he declined the position Miranda has because "My life is here" (on the Enterprise) and thus reaffirming that Jim and Bones and what he has is more important than anything else

Because they are so similar, Miranda's aroness can easily extend into Spock being perceived as aro. Notably, Spock (unlike Jim and Bones) shows no (implied or not) romantic interest in Miranda, but simply demonstrates the deep respect which they both show each other. Also, both characters have moments this episode (explained above) in which they put their friends/platonic connections as higher priorities than romantic connections, and Miranda's connection with the ambassador is very similar to Spock and Jim's relationship. Really, we're supposed to look at them and go, "oh, they're the same type of people." So by Miranda being aro, it implicitly backs up the view of Spock as aro!!

Anyways yes I left this episode not only feeling validated as a woman because Miranda was frickin EXCELLENT writing, I also felt validated as an aro on multiple sides. And I needed to express that to y'all other starved-for-rep aros! So here ya go lol 😂

[littlefreya]

Bad Reputation

Synopsis: Henry and his girl can’t get enough from one another. They keep finding themselves in rather sticky and lusty situations while other actors are present around them. 🤭

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: Smut, thigh riding, exhibition kink, public display of affection, dirty language, slight fingering, daddy kink.

A/N: This is by request made for thigh riding! I see this as a slight sequel to  Putting up a Show and Good Girl just because in my mind they are the same couple. Many thanks again to the marvellous @agniavateira​ for doing the beta! Masterlist is here.

Let me know if you want to be added/removed! Thank you for reading as always :)

PR fucking nightmare - that’s what our managers call us. 

They thought it would go away after our first year of dating. But the sad truth is, Henry just loves to touch, and I’m a hot-blooded woman who loves to fuck shit up. Three years in being married and the line is so goddamn blurry by now; I am never quite certain which one of us initiates it, nor do I even care. 

I see my bear sitting sprawled across the red leather sofas, legs spread open as he can never keep them shut. I know I’m terribly biased but that black tuxedo suit sure as hell looks great on his strong figure, especially with the crooked bowtie and the beard he’s been growing for his new movie role. 

And as if the bad boy vibes and big dick energy he sends everywhere wasn’t enough, the half-empty Grey Goose bottle on the round golden table next to him and the slight sweat that covers his forehead is a red flag that we are definitely getting into trouble tonight. 

Bring it on. 

Armie is sitting right next to him, telling him about some scheme by the gesture he is making with his hands. But I can tell Henry has other things on his mind. I can feel his eyes looking at me even when I am standing far away. Our gazes meet, he offers me a mischievous smile, showing off the large dimples of his cheeks. This is what I call a wet, slippery invention. 

I blush and look away. I mean, I have Rebecca Ferguson holding my forearms. That woman makes me want to invite her into our bedroom, but Henry doesn’t like sharing, not even with women. It doesn’t matter how much I’d pout and beg, he likes me all to himself, and he loves it when others can see that I am his. 

It’s always his hand between my thighs, riding up higher, thumb tickling at my clit teasingly. We sat through an entire acceptance speech with him working me hard. If anyone looks closely at that video on Youtube, you can see the exact moment when he hits the spot.

Sorry, Leo, I wasn’t smiling because you won. 

This is us being subtle. Hotels and parties, however, are a different story. We already had a manager quit on us because we made sure the entire floor hears what we are doing through the night. 

Rebecca kisses me on the cheek, the gorgeous Swedish redhead is already tipsy, and I’ve had my second glass of wine. She’s in a red satin dress, her impressive breasts showing through her cleavage. I also spot a few freckles on her chest. It makes me pout and look at Henry, who shakes his head in refusal. 

“Where is your hubby anyway?” she asks playfully, and I point in the direction of where he is sitting. Armie is just getting up, leaving Henry alone. He pours himself some more vodka, fills the glass with ice and then takes a sip with a lustful gaze. That’s probably my cue to keep him company and take that glass away.  

That video when he told everyone to get naked will forever be online. He also has a tendency to start making impressions of others when he is flustered, and I can’t contain my laughter when that happens.

“He’s too drunk to get up.” I sigh, shaking my head while he makes playful, sad faces at me. I shrug and take my phone out my purse, seeing two text messages from him.

Henry: “Where are you, babygirl?” Henry: “I want to squeeze that ass.” 

I text him back “Armie’s? Go for it. Can we have Rebecca, pleaaaaase?” 

He reads my reply, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in complete refusal. 

“Not. sharing. you. Do you want me to spank you in front of all these people?” 

Rebecca is oddly enough very touchy-feely, her hand sliding down my forearms while she speaks about how wonderful Henry is, and how fun it was to work with him on MI6.

“He’s not like all the other ones, he is an actual friend,” she explains to me, her beautiful green eyes lighting up. 

“I know, that’s how he got me, pretended to be my friend for years.” I chuckle, remembering the times we were still just friends. If you look at videos of us from interviews and photos from events from the time we worked together, you’d think we’ve been dating already. He always touched me subtly, his eyes staring at me intently when I speak. And of course, no one cracks him up the way I do.

But Henry waited 5 years for both of us to be single at the same time to “kidnap” me during a walk with our dogs at the forest, where I’d literally be unable to run away. He did that so he can tell me he’s been in love and growing in love with me ever since we met.

I smile at the sweet memory. I held my tears when that word left his lips.

“I’ll come to say hello later, I’m starving,” she says and rubs her belly gently. I nod and lean forward to kiss her, deliberately kissing her soft, red-painted lips for Henry to see. Us girls, we really don’t mind.

As I turn to face him, he is already frowning. He’s not amused by my vexing behaviour. I give him my best angelic posture, batting my lashes and holding my hands together while my head is tilted to the side. In that pale blue and silver dress, I might look like some saint right now, but my darling knows I’ve come from south to heaven.

I make my way to him, walking slowly, a smile both in my eyes and between my cheeks. I can feel the fire burning in my chest, the sight of him is dashing, those thick thighs ever so inviting. He spreads his legs even wider, the bulge in his groin made only for me. He has his pinky finger pressed between his teeth while checking me out.

My body heeds his calling, I’m tingling wet. 

I stand in front of him, my cheeks warm as if this is a first hook up of some sort. Henry rises his beautiful blues to stare straight into my eyes. The beaming lights in the hall make his sweaty skin glow in neon pink and gold, his eyes flashing bright as the different colours dance across his face.

“How many of those have you had?” I ask, gesturing at the glass, noticing the half-empty bottle. I hope not too much, I expect to be rammed tonight when we return to the hotel. 

He shrugs, putting the glass away without bothering to finish it. He is British, and boy, he can drink a lot. He is not as half as flustered as a different guy would be, but yes, he is certainly quite drunk. Enough to give me that look of his-one eyebrow rising up-while his eyes drink in my dress, cleavage, ass, and that slit that runs from my legs to my thighs.

My friends asked me if Henry is an ass or tits man, to which my answer was “he is ‘all of me’ man.” 

“Gotta love women's liberation.” He speaks in a deep, low voice, gesturing at my provocative dress. 

“Come to daddy.” He demands, holding out his hand for me to come and sit on his thigh. To which I am more than happy to comply.

I spread my legs, moving to straddle his muscular thigh. There is a burning sensation at my core as my pelvis meets his taut muscle. My body always reacts to his touch. Henry’s hands immediately take my face, thumbs stroking at my cheeks.

“Why do you tease me, beautiful?” he murmurs, his fierce gaze tracing my face, always taken by me, memorizing every freckle and flaw as if it’s the first time we ever sit so close. God, he makes me feel so beautiful even in my ugliest of ugly days.

I lean forward to get even closer, my ass riding up his leg and my hands reach out to tug at his white buttoned shirt. “Oh, Henry-Bear, it’s. So. much. fun.”

Someone sits right next to us on the big red sofa, saying a friendly hello. We answer at the same time, without breaking eye contact. We never bother looking who is the actor, producer, or whatever who moved to bug us. Too lost in our own little mist of admiration. Henry’s fingers descend from my face to my neck, fingers skirting down my neck sensually. 

“You know what I love about these ceremonies and parties?” he asks as he leans closer to whisper in my ear and then places a wet, lingering kiss on my shoulder. His chin pushes the straps of my dress away, letting it fall on my forearm as if by accident. I let it glide, shivering as the coarse hair of his beard marks my flesh.

“I get to show you off while you’re wearing these outrageous dresses and everyone knows I am taking you home to fuck you until sunrise.”

I chuckle lustfully, my tongue pressed between my teeth. “Last time we didn’t even make it home remember?” I hum gently, feeling his rough touch on my breasts. The tip of his thumbs circles my nipples, teasing them to harden through the thin fabric of my dress. I wouldn’t give a fuck if Henry had me topless right now and sink his fangs in my tits for everyone to see. But he is far too selfish, I was made for his eyes and his eyes only.

He settles for a “chaste” show, laying a kiss beneath my chin and then pressing his face at my cleavage, inhaling the scent of my body lotion before nibbling at my breast through my dress. His breath smells like vodka-sweet and spicy at once.

“I remember, Cumberbatch saw the whole thing,” he answers, his hands holding my ribs, slightly guiding me to move my body on top of his thigh in ghostlike movements. I am searing hot, my mound feels as if it’s seconds from catching fire. I am certain he can feel it, his blue eyes now hazy and dreamlike as they watch the pink tint that runs through my neck to my cheeks. 

“Fuck me, daddy, I am so horny!”

My whisper comes out as half a cry, weak and desperate. My body is a void, it suffers without his touch, it aches when we’re disjointed. I hope we’ll never stop feeling this way toward one another. 

“Ride me, babygirl.” he urges me, raising his thigh up higher, so I’ll slide down closer. The friction makes me lose sight for a moment. My vision blurs as I throb wet and hot onto him. Good thing his trousers are black, otherwise, everyone would be able to detect the wetness I am leaving on his pants. 

I can’t reject his decree, my body needs him. 

“You like it when they watch, don’t you?” he asks me with a slightly slurred voice. His hands glide down to squeeze my ass, assisting me in dancing on the rock-hard muscle of his leg. I am grinding slow and rough, shifting my weight forward, my right hand reaching his other thigh, clawing at him with growing pleasure.

Everyone is looking at us, I am sure, some embarrassed and perhaps even appalled. How puritan of you Hollywood. These people formed their own religion and hidden sex clubs. But I am convinced many enjoy this facade and discreetly salute us, some probably holding out their cameras.  

I roll my hips up and clench my inner thighs, whimpering as my body begins to tremble.  

It doesn’t matter who is staring while I ride him so passionately, seeking my pleasure with urgency while Henry’s hands support me, saddling my hips and pulling me toward him. We don’t see anyone else. We’re locked into one another, the way we always did, just like when Henry had a girlfriend, when we were “just friends” when I dated that asshole. We’d walk into a room, and it was just me and him, hearts and chest bursting with love.

Every moment we couldn’t have one another was stolen from us, we now fight to own it back.  

“I’d sit you on my face in front of everyone, but I think Gretchen would kill us.” Henry half whispers against my throat and then licks up my neck as I lift my chin to the ceiling with gaping lips. He has his hand between my legs, drawing at my centre and sneaking between the slit of my dress to finish the job. 

“Fuck!” he teases my clit, his middle finger travelling at my seams. My entire existence shudders. The bass of the music blasts through my chest, my eardrums throb, and my eyes see all the colours of the neon at once as my cunt implodes with orgasmic bliss. Henry steals my gasp into his mouth, his hand pressing my cheeks, crushing my mouth with hunger. 

Who could ever hate us for our expression of true love?

I gasp feverishly, holding onto him as if I’m about to fall. Henry’s lips are on my temple and then my cheek. Pressing against me and not moving away. He envelops me in his big arms, a clear statement to all our viewers that I am his and he is mine.  We both move our heads to see who's been sitting next to us this entire time.

Alec Baldwin and Jake Gyllenhaal. They pretend not to stare, at least Alec does. Jake gives us a wide, knowing smile. Everyone else has also been staring as I hear the whispers and gasps. 

“Really? They did that again!?”

We bump our foreheads together and snicker with delight. Like we ever gave a fuck about being caught. It’s not the first time, won’t be the last. We just can’t get our hands off of each other. 

“Better call Gretchen now.” I tell Henry, hanging my arm around his thick neck. 

“Before or after I fuck you in one of the back rooms here?”

[thotsforvillainrights]

Could I may' ask how would Yandere Setsuno, Overhaul, Mimic and Chronostasis react when their darling is (the first time) drunk and flirting with them? Have a beautiful♥️

(Okay so I wanted to experiment with this one and add a lot more speaking in it. I kinda wanted to write it out in a different way just a bit, so please hang in there and I hope I haven’t bothered you by doing this lol)

~Yandere Toya/Kai/Joi/Hari and their “first time” drunk S/O~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

~Setsuno~

He watched you stumbling around and began to wonder if this was a bad idea or not. When you brought up to him that you had never went to a bar or club and the fact that you never got drunk but you wanted to, he took it upon himself to show you these things. After all, how could he deny his one true love’s wishes? He took it upon himself to bring you out for a fun night, and he even took the role as DD so you could get shit faced if you wanted...which is exactly what you did:

Y/N: “I’m absolutely havinnng a great tiiiiiime Toya. I’m absolutely haaaaa...oh who is that??? Imma just, pshhhhh hahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHHA!!!!” 

Toya: “Aw geez. I knew this was a shitty idea. now I gotta handle this later.”

He spoke to himself as he glared at the way you basically threw yourself on another man/woman/person. It’s not your fault. You’re absolutely plastered so he would excuse your bad behavior as he usually did. However...that passerby wouldn’t be so lucky. Luckily for him you finally turned your attention to him and you didn’t leave his side the whole night. He’s more thankful to you flirting with him than anyone else in the room, he just wishes you were better at it. The amount of times you drunkenly poked him in the eye as you tried to romantically move his hair from his face was ridiculous. He could only laugh at it though!

~Overhaul~

You’re aggravating as shit but you’re his after all. So then why are you once again behaving like a child? Is it because you can get away with more than other people could since you knew he has his head up your ass? The answer is yes. He’s obsessed with you and puts up with a lot more than he would do for anyone other than you. You like to take advantage of this by doing whatever you can to annoy him. As long as you don’t talk/look/or interact with anyone else then you should be in the clear with him. That’s why you were now off your ass wasted just because you got into the old liquor cabinet and tasted a few sips of sake...a few too many:

Kai: “Y/N what the absolute hell are you in here...What the F U C K?????”

Y/N: “Chisakiiiiii! You’ve arrived finally! I cannot wait to tell you about the day I, hic...hurrrrrrrrghrhhhgh!!!

Overhaul felt his hives bubble up in no time when you literally vomited all over one of the couches in his office. “Not doing this right now. I not doing this at all.” He quickly turned on his heels and headed out of the office, ordering Toya to lead you to the room and Nemoto to clean up that mess. Once you were in the room, he stripped you down and bathed you gently. It was something akin to the way he gently treated you back when he first kidnapped you and you finally began to fall into his arms instead of running from them. The moment was almost romantic had it not been for the way you endlessly flirted with him (lewdly I might add). He sighed and continued working little foamy bubbles on your upper back with the sponge while you spewed nonsense all in the name of love. When you finally went to sleep that night, he sighed in relief.

~Mimic~

He had no problems at all with you. Actually it was so easy to get you in his arms for the first time that he couldn’t really be considered too much of a yandere I suppose. His tendencies always show their ugly head when too many people are near. That’s why taking you to a club for the first time was a total mistake when he noticed all the eyes you were getting. 

Joi: “Hey fuck off you cocksplat! And what the hell are you looking over there bitch! And you! Yeah you buddy, keep your eyes off my woman/man/partner or else I’ll fucking maim yah!” 

Y/N: “Pshhhh, you’re so funny mimmy! Turn into a plushie for me again, hahahaha!!!” 

You simply sit in his lap at the bar while he’s roasting and threatening everyone that passes and catches eye with you. Perhaps that’s translated into being overprotective, but the yandere comes in when you realize when he’ll gladly murder everyone in there upon your command. He seemed to be in an awful mood all night even when the two of you made it home. He isolated himself in the living room while you were in the bedroom. He didn’t want to scare you away with his anger. He wouldn’t react very well if you tried to run away. Lucky for him, you drunkenly plopped your happy little ass on the living room carpet and began flirting with him. How could he stay angry when you were saying the stupidest pick-up lines in history? He shook his head and chuckled before pulling you into his lap.

~Chronostasis~

Oh what joy. He didn’t take you to a club to get drunk so he didn’t have to deal with blowing some stranger’s brains out in a back alleyway for paying too much attention to you. He simply had to deal with you’re weirdness within the confines of your own home. It all started with him buying you a first bottle of wine. It quickly escalated from that point on, and now you were making googly eyes at him from the foot of the bed while he tried to hear the TV over your loud ass talking. He’d be annoyed but he was too busy trying not to laugh at you. Laughing would only encourage it.

Y/N: “Hari why don’t you and I go catch a pri...what was...A PRIVATE FLIGHT somewhere and lemme give you a big smooch on the fucking w...a big kiss on the wayyyyyy.”

Hari: “...”

Y/N: “Are you from Tennessee because it must’ve hurt when you fell from heavennn. Hallelujah”

Hari: “...”

Y/N: “Please choke me.”

Hari: “...Pshhh HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA OH MY GOD, Y/N SHUT UP ALREADY!”

He’s doubled over laughing but his heart is full right now. Who would ever thought he’d actually end up with you? After all the stalking, heartache, and yearning? He didn’t deserve you in drunkenness or sobriety, yet here you were.

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

Instagram: @pastelbattydraws & @pastelbattystore

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCRNMJH7vHL7APNobUykhK4w?view_as=subscriber

[beautifulweird0]

Forgiving Your Parents

I know too many people who’ve experienced some form of trauma from their parents. This isn’t a blog about bashing your folks- this is hopefully a post that will help salvage some strained parent and child relationships. Cause I been there, done that-and understanding your parent is only feasible if your parent is interested in understanding you.

My disclaimer is this: The child isn’t responsible for mending the relationship...solely. I’mma tell you like this, if your parent doesn’t want anything to do with you...skip em’.

   Because that’s backwards as hell and that takes away from loving yourself. Anyway you chop it, if you find yourself forcing yourself on a “parent”, the relationship isn’t going to go anywhere-AND THAT’S NOT YOUR FAULT OR CONCERN. YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL! YOU ARE EXTREMELY WORTHY. I’m so sorry your people ain’t solid; it’s a reflection of them-not you.

It’s my belief that something is wrong with a person if they want no parts of having a relationship with their child. Literally so messed up from their own unhealed traumas that they can’t find it within themselves to love someone they created…

Ain’t no fixing on that unless you take they ass to a therapist.

Moving on.

I’ve always had such a strong feeling in my gut when I come across new people. It’s like they look at me and think I got it all. Truly looking at me and seeing a woman who doesn’t have insecurities or childhood traumas spotted along her path cause I’m kind and always make it a point to smile like Granny told me.

    I’m usually a private person. But its always been that ‘pull’ on me-telling me… “It’s another little girl that is going through the same stuff you went through. Say that shit anyway. And with your chest.” .

Think about it...

Can’t a soul embarrass you about some stuff you open about. That takes all the fun out of their miserable lives if folks know wassup already.

    So as a 22 year old woman that been through some mess with her people, let me share pieces of me. Cause the last thing you want on your conscience is one of your parents passing and ya’ll not being on the best of terms.

I was listening to Mad Bitches the other day and Mikhala Jene said something along the lines of, “Nobody living is perfect”.

That hit me a little different. Like damn...nobody walks this earth perfect so...why do we expect perfection (again, subconsciously).

THIS.

   This is why I say if your parent is trying, then work with them. If they sit down with you and tell you how life was for them coming up. The good parts, the ugly parts, and everything in-between. Trying their best to be authentic and build a bond, then meet em’ halfway (if they haven’t been on some stuff that’s just unforgivable).

And shit, our people ain’t have everything at their fingertips as we do. The apps that spread information quicker than you could sneeze, weren't available. They couldn’t go on a ‘self-care’ page to calm themselves down if triggered or go on YouTube and watch motivational videos. Not making excuses, just using a little perspective that helps me! Yet and still, let your parent(s) know if they did something to wrong you; you gotta’ have respect for yourself as a human. Period.

   I didn’t find out who my biological father was until I was about 16 years old. Up until that point I believed another man was my father (which he is still and will always be!).

Sooo...I already had abandonment issues from my parents and my dad lived in a way at that time, that all parties involved thought it was best my grandparents took us in. That’s all I know is Granny’s (& Grandpa’s) house since I was a baby.

    It helped that when my mom told me who my biological dad was, she was in a much better state of mind and stable-but man...I didn’t know what to feel. My sister was more upset than me (cause we have the same dad hypothetically).

     So many questions ran through my head that I couldn’t even cry or be mad. I was shocked. Everyone played their role so well…

There was a long road ahead of me. Not only did I have to forgive my mom and dad for lying to me for so long, but there was a father in the same city I had yet to know.

My first point is patience. If you aren’t going to be patient with an end goal for you and your parent, you’re wasting your time. Being prepared for them to fumble sometimes is mandatory if y’all going to get to a better place. You mess up on certain projects or what have you’s a few times before you get it right...right?

Give your parent the same energy if you were in their shoes. Cause baby...ain’t nothing worse than admitting your wrongs and still getting beat down. I couldn’t bring myself to be mad at my mom in that moment where she was vulnerable and upset cause she knew she played a part in hurting me. What was it gone do but make me feel bad and her feel worse?

     Blowing up wasn’t going to change what happened now 22 years ago.

Yeah, there’s hella’ books on parenting but I’mma tell y’all like my Granny told me, “There’s no such thing as a book on how to be a parent.”.

Having a child of my own- I’ve been witness to this. Folks can be shown and folks can be told on how to do certain things but with each child being different in this world, you have to be intune with them specifically- no book on that.

I was through hell and back with my mother and now we’re in an extremely better place because we both made the effort (more-so on her part 🌚).

But it was my responsibility to go into it with pure intentions and my guard down a bit after she made the effort; disappointment is what I expected sometimes cause I went into it knowing it was going to be a process.

Don’t get it confused,  my mom always knew how I was-that wasn’t the issue. The new end goal was getting to know each other again so I could understand her better so I could forgive her. That’s no sucka’ shit. Its real. Everybody in this life is going to disappoint you, one way or another. Better to know what you’re dealing with so you can assess the situation in order to better assess the person. Free game.

Another step to keep in mind is, boundaries. I just feel like it will make the whole exchange smoother-not easier- but smoother. The point of forgiving your parents and (if you chose) trying to build a relationship, is to have them know you for who you are NOW. Not when you were 5, not when you was 12...have them meet you at your level. They dropped the ball, not you. Sure...nobody asked to be here but that becomes invalid when you start having babies of your own. It’s a different ball game when you bring a life into this world. Your joys become the joy of your children but way too often we forget that our pain becomes theirs as well.

My father always tried too-the dad that I always knew as my dad. On weekends me and my sister would go to his house before he moved to Michigan. Man I was a daddies girl-still am. My grandparents had the house on lock, couldn't watch programs with cussing in it or too much violence. Life of having Southern Baptist grandparents I guess.

 The weekends at pops house was always interesting. I could watch all the music videos I wanted and watch the movies that didn't have too much goin on in them.

My dad would do different stuff with us like go to the library; he always knew I loved reading. Sometimes my dad would take us to the park or a friends house who had kids (how I met my husband), water parks, or even cooking dinner with me and my sister; plenty of quality time where I could talk to him about anything.

However, at the time, pops lived a certain lifestyle and no matter how hard he tried to shield it from us younger kids, I still seen things and experienced things a child shouldn't have. Again, comes with the lifestyle I guess.

My dad drunk...ALOT. And it was interesting to see the 'upsides' of alchoholism and the very big downsides. I'd never forget, I was maybe 8? Another weekend at my dads, just me and my sister (I have multiple brothers on that side too plus another sister), and I woke up one morning on the couch. My dad was goin through some things- all he had was a couch that he let me and my little sister sleep on. My 1st thought when I woke up was where was my dad sleeping? My sister was sleep, and it was still fairly early in the morning. I go back to the empty bedroom to find him sleep on the floor. No pillow. No cover. Just a beer in hand, laid out. That broke my heart.

Just remember feeling sad all over. I took the beer, threw it away then grabbed the pillow I had and laid it under his head. While doing so, my dad woke up, halfway and kissed my hand.

He told me straight up he loves me and he apologized. Didn't go into detail but he didn't have to. My dad never had his pops in his life, nor his mama until he was grown and was taking care of her though her illness.

I knew even at 8 years old that, that gotta hurt. I'm not gone sit here and act like I always understood the motives of my father but I tried because he always tried to understand me and til' this day, he is one of the top 3 people that KNOWS me like the back of his hand.

I had to forgive my parents because they’ve come a long way. Holding all that anger and resentment wasn’t gone help me in the long run. And in a way I can say I've helped to heal them by loving them through their screw ups. We always talk about a parents love but what about a child's love?

I don’t want to pass down my pain to my son, he don’t need that- the world will give its fair share. But everyday I pray that the world won’t hurt him bad. I want my son to be nothing less than strong mentally, emotionally, but most of all spiritually. He won’t have that unless I’m solid. So I ask myself… ‘hm, what’s still hurting me?’.

We all got a story to tell.

Love. Peace. Manifest.