#more unrealistic body image expectations

[so-much-for-subtlety]

[buckevantommy]

enough HD photoshoots of celebs looking airbrushed to the nth degree wearing clothes that cost a year's rent in poses that look a) uncomfortable b) impossible or c) dumb af. give us full page spreads of candid shots in real moments plain ordinary moments doing everyday things in their usual clothes i wanna see more shoots of what they looke like when they're not dolled up on screen or on the red carpet or in couture threads bc it's important for audiences to pop that bubble of perfection to not idolise celebs on looks first and foremost show us a little humanity instead of focusing on their flawless skin i'd rather be bombarded by images evoking what's in their hearts and heads than what's on their body (unless what's on their body is their own personal style but again not the focus - unless their clothing etc. is central to the ccompanying words on who they are) 

[angelellipsis-devilofdots]

since taylor swift's definition of "feminine rage" is normalizing cheating, romanticizing ableism and mental illness, and immaturely whining about exes, here's some recommendations of my favorite actual feminine rage songs

trigger warning for abuse, violence, alcoholism, and rape/sa

as good a reason by paris paloma: alternative, indie pop. themes include body image, learning self love, imbalance of power, and fuck the patriarchy vibes

bitter medicine by the crane wives: alternative/indie rock. themes include high responsibility, the consequences of expressing anger as a woman, and self-resentment

blood in the wine by aurora: pop rock. themes include religious trauma, overcoming guilt and shame, embracing human nature, and defying societal norms related to pleasure (sexual and otherwise)

burn your village by kiki rockwell: alternative/indie rock. themes include sexual assault and rape-related trauma, coming to terms with trauma, revenge, high expectations, and witch hunts

everybody supports women by sofia isella: alternative, electronic. themes include societal hypocrisy, unrealistic standards placed on women, and society scrutinizing individuality

labour by paris paloma: alternative, indie pop. themes include unrealistic expectations/standards for women, burnout, emotional stress, and imbalanced relationships

pray by the amazing devil: melodramatic, theatrical, alt-folk. themes include religious trauma, religious power imbalances, oppression of women in religion, overcoming trauma, and self-forgiveness

scars by the crane wives: alternative/indie rock. themes include childhood trauma, mental health/mental illness, self-doubt, and self-resentment

take me to war by the crane wives: alternative/indie rock. themes include fighting bigotry, activism, allowing oneself to express anger and rage, and power imbalances

that unwanted animal by the amazing devil: melodramatic, theatrical, alt-folk. themes include domestic violence and abuse, lack of communication, unhealthy/broken relationships, sexual expectations, and emotional instability

the calling by the amazing devil: melodramatic, theatrical, alt-folk. themes include lifelong trauma, mental health/mental illness, alcoholism, heartbreak and depression, coming to terms with trauma, and self-reflection

the fruits by paris paloma: alt-folk, indie pop. themes include religious trauma, manipulative and abusive relationships, and overcoming trauma

which witch by florence + the machine: alternative/indie pop. themes include witch hunts, revenge, defying societal norms, and unhealthy/unstable relationships

i'm sure there are more in my playlists but this is all i can remember off the top of my head at the moment. i'll edit if i think of more. enjoy xx

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗟𝗔𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗛𝗔𝗭𝗘

　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N drowns amidst so much criticism and negative comments from the media regarding her relationship, but Matt is right by her side to bring her back to the surface and surround her in a lavender haze.

WARNING: Mentions of hate, slightly angst.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: This fic was written for the Challenge for the writers 2024 made by @annamcdonalds67

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Staring at the ceiling with you

Oh, you don't ever say too much

Y/N lay down next to Matt on the double bed that decorated the room. The soft gloom emanated from the corner lamp, painting the scene with orange tones. Their intertwined fingers on the mattress formed a comforting bond, a silent affirmation of each other's presence there. Together, they observed the ceiling as if they were tracing constellations on the white paint in their minds.

The silence that surrounded them was serene, and their synchronized breathing seemed to compose a soft song. Matt knew that sometimes words were unnecessary. There was no need to try to force empty conversations when each other's presence was enough.

Y/N's thoughts, however, were a whirlwind. The sudden exposure that accompanied her relationship with Matt - which they just had revealed to the public some months before - had left her overwhelmed, despite her boyfriend's advance warnings about what followed him with his career. As someone who preferred a low-key life, being dragged into the spotlight of fame was suddenly a big experience.

While her body was physically in the room, her mind felt the weight of these thoughts slowly crushing her. It was an internal battle to maintain sanity amid the media storm that surrounded them.

And you don't really read into

My melancholia

Matt, on his side, noticed the melancholy in Y/N's eyes and the way her brow was constantly frowning, but he respected her silence. He understood the pressure she faced; the crazed fans who used her words against herself and criticized every second of the videos she made a little appearance or was only mentioned, and his heart burned to be able to help her more, but he knew that trying to interpret her thoughts could only increase her distress, his own mind bringing him the mere memory of the episode from some night's before.

To the soft sound of popcorn crackling in the kitchen next door, Y/N anxiously waited for Matt on the made bed, wrapped in the comfort of the fluffy comforter. Her phone rested in her hands, and she slid her fingers across the screen to access her Instagram feed. A notification caught her attention, a tag on a photo posted by the boy.

With an anticipated smile, Y/N opened the post and found herself among the images of a photo dump posted a few hours ago. Her heart filled with warmth when she saw the picture of them together, the girl didn't know how to explain what she felt when she saw him post so openly about them, having gone through difficult situations in this regard in her previous relationship.

However, her smile faded when she swiped down and was met with an avalanche of comments. Thousands of cruel words and cutting criticisms flooded the massive list. Comments that questioned who she thought she was, insinuations that she wasn't good enough, and that Matt deserved someone better. Every word was a blow to her heart, a confirmation of all the fears and insecurities she had kept hidden inside.

Feeling crushed by the virtual pressure, a wave of anguish enveloped her. Tears began to blur her vision as she struggled to contain her overflowing emotions, not wanting to appear vulnerable in the situation, much less worry Matt.

Her head filled with questions, how could she compete with the unrealistic expectations of those who observed her life through a screen?

Minutes passed in a second for her, the sound of the door opening again echoed softly, Matt's figure entering the room following it, the tempting smell of popcorn floating in the air and a childish smile decorating his face. His smile fell instantly when he saw Y/N holding the phone tightly with one of her hands, tears rolling down her face while her other hand pressed her mouth, forcing away the sobs.

"Hey, hey, babe, what happened?" Matt ran over to her, his tone full of worry, leaving the bucket of popcorn on the bedside table and kneeling next to her on the bed.

Y/N sobs as she tries to explain, showing him the cruel comments that filled her entire screen, the device shaking slightly as a result of her trembling fingers.

Matt felt his heart break when he saw the suffering on Y/N's face and the ridiculous words in front of him. Him mind was divided between helping her or posting something obscene, full of insults, and totally guided from his emotional side.

The boy sighs, closing his eyes and wishing to take the bad things away from his girl before sitting properly next to her, wrapping her in his arms affectionately and bringing her head to his chest, sealing her hair line for long seconds.

"I'm so sorry, petal. I didn't know this was going to happen. I should have thought before posting..." He murmured, gently stroking her back as Y/N clings to him for comfort. "I'll figure it out, I promise."

I been under scrutiny (yeah, oh, yeah)

You handle it beautifully (yeah, oh, yeah)

All this shit is new to me (yeah, oh, yeah)

With that, it was known that Y/N was constantly under the relentless eyes of the fandom and obsessed fanpages, her every move being dissected and analyzed minutely by the voracious eyes of anonymous people. But that was the price to pay for dating a public figure.

While facing this incessant storm of unsolicited attention, she couldn't help but admire how Matt, despite his issues with anxiety and certain unnecessary comments left by people who called themselves fans, handled the problems of notoriety with admirable patience and calm.

He seemed so comfortable on camera alongside his brothers, so skilled at ignoring invasive situations that Y/N often found herself questioning how he did it. However, for her, this was all unfamiliar and intimidating territory, too new.

Although she passionately wanted to quickly adapt to this new lifestyle, as she had no plans to leave Matt, she also found herself racing toward an uncertain direction, trying to keep her sanity and identity intact amid the media chaos that surrounded her.

The couch enveloped them in a comfortable embrace as Y/N and Matt enjoyed the peace of the silent living room, the soft sound of a Disney movie echoing in the background. Matt's arms around Y/N were a sanctuary of calm, warming her body and bringing her a comfort that made her feel like she could sleep any moment. It was one of those rare moments when they could simply exist t the interference of the fast-paced world around them.

Matt, with a sigh of contentment, reached for his phone, curious to see how the car video they had posted a few minutes ago was doing, eager to see what the fans thought of the themes brought up.

Quickly, he opened the YouTube app and scrolled through the comments. Among a flood of compliments and kind words, however, some less favorable comments caught his attention. Some criticized the way he was quieter than usual, while others questioned why he was even part of the videos, as he had nothing to add.

Matt rolled his eyes in a dismissive gesture as he turned the screen of his phone towards Y/N, allowing her to read the comments that filled the space.

"Look at that." Matt said, exasperated. "These people have nothing better to do than criticize anything and everything. Immature teenagers who love to point out only negative things." He muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Locking the screen of his phone with a brusque gesture, he left it aside on the couch, refusing to let the negative comments ruin his moment of peace. The boy turned to Y/N again, his smile returning as if nothing had happened and wrapping his arms around her once more.

"Sorry about that, pretty girl." The brunette asked softly against her skin, burying his face in the curve of her shoulder. "Sometimes people just need to spread negativity to feel better about themselves. But let's not let that get to us, hm?" He lifted his head from where it was, smiling small at his girl before pressing small seals on the exposed skin of her shoulders and neck, eliciting loud laughter from the girl.

[...] All they keep asking me (all they keep asking me)

Is if I'm gonna be your bride

The only kind of girl they see (the only kind of girl they see)

Is a one-night or a wife

Post after post from the significant number of fans who adored them together claimed that they were "endgame", as they had been in a relationship for over a year and seemed to be going strong.

But the comments that followed were always like a punch to the gut for Y/N. Some argued that she was Matt's future bride, while others insinuated that she was just a "gold digger", there to take advantage of his fame and money, like a one night stand, before eventually leaving him.

Y/N's feelings fluctuated between anger and sadness. How dare they question her true feelings for Matt? How could they judge their relationship based on unfounded assumptions and speculation? They were only 20 years old, marriage was out of the question at that moment, and they both knew that this kind of thing is something planned and thought out together, never done for the emotion of the moment or to meet the needs of others.

A feeling of helplessness invaded her when she read those things, accompanied by a hint of doubt. Y/N felt deep pain due to the lack of trust and support from Matt's own fans. She had tried so hard to be a positive presence in his life, to love and support him unconditionally, and to make the people who meant the most to him and who brought him to the top really like her.

And now, she was faced with the cruelty of strangers who were ready to judge her without even truly knowing her.

I find it dizzying (yeah, oh, yeah)

They're bringing up my history (yeah, oh, yeah)

But you weren't even listening (yeah, oh, yeah)

Y/N felt constantly dizzy with everything that was happening around her. It was as if she was in the eye of a media hurricane, where waves of curiosity and intrusion were endlessly engulfing her. Even with her social networks private, she found herself inundated by a flood of fanatical fans, eager to discover even the smallest detail of her life.

The triplets' YouTube videos, in which she participated, were constant targets of investigation by fans. Every word, every gesture captured by the camera, was analyzed. And the boys' posts, where she occasionally appeared, were scoured thoroughly for any hint of her personal life.

The simple act of even appearing on a TikTok for a brief second was enough to trigger a new wave of speculation and conspiracy theories from fans. Y/N felt like she was looking over her shoulder every moment.

This growing fear began to affect her willingness to participate in the brothers' videos and appear on their social media. She retreated into the shadows, avoiding the curious eyes that surrounded her.

Meanwhile, Matt scrolled through his social media feed, the cruel and mean comments about Y/N flashed on his phone screen at every moment. "She only wants to hurt him", "She's only with him for the money", "She will run away at the first opportunity". The words penetrated like sharp knives, but he faced them with a calm expression.

He could feel the anger pulsing through his veins. The injustice of these accusations made him want to scream. But he forced himself to remain calm, to take a deep breath and remember what really mattered.

Matt knew Y/N better than he knew himself. He knew she wasn't a gold digger, that she wasn't with him out of interest or for any petty reason. He knew that she genuinely loved him, that they shared the same dreams and fears, joys, and sadness.

So he ignored the negative comments, the people who hid behind anonymous profiles to spread venom and hate. Sometimes, he even had the small pleasure of responding to these accusations with an ironic comment or a joke, knowing that, deep down, none of it mattered.

Because he trusted Y/N. He loved her more than anything in the world, and nothing could shake that unshakable trust he had in her.

[...] Talk your talk and go viral (oh, oh, oh)

I just need this love spiral (oh, oh, oh)

Get it off your chest (woah, woah, woah, woah)

Get it off my desk (get it off my desk)

Talk your talk and go viral (oh, oh, oh)

I just need this love spiral (oh, oh, oh)

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk

But on the other side, the moments of exhaustion seemed to multiply for Y/N, like a lingering shadow that followed her with every step. Increasingly, she found herself sinking into a sea of ​​cruel comments and venomous speculation from the media and fans.

Until a specific moment, where she finally understood that with Matt, she found the strength to fight it gradually. His arms wrapped around her with comforting warmth. His words of encouragement were like a balm to her soul. He supported her in every way possible, constantly reminding her of how much she was loved and valued and that nothing they said mattered.

Y/N slowly learned to filter the noise of the outside world, to block out the negative voices that tried to invade her mind. She no longer allowed the mean comments to get to her, choosing to ignore, block or mute them, allowing them to get everything they wanted off their chest and go viral using her name, and not giving a damn about it.

It was a gradual process, a journey of self-discovery and self-transformation. Y/N still had her moments of weakness, her doubts and fears, like in that moment. But with Matt by her side, she was able to cover her ears and eyes to them.

I feel the lavender haze creeping up on me

Surreal

I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal

The 1950s shit they want from me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

And despite all the bad things, being alone at that moment with Matt in their own haven was comforting. A lavender haze enveloped Y/N gently, like a warm lilac hug amidst the darkness of uncertainty, protecting her from external judgments.

In the comfort of their room, with Matt's presence beside her, she felt as if she could close her eyes and simply let herself be carried away by the constant flow of love she felt for the boy.

Despite the whirlwind of thoughts that danced in her mind along with vague memories of all the futile posts from pages that gossip about artists, demanding surreal things from her as if they had just come out of a time machine to the past, there, in that moment, she allowed herself to sink into the depths of this good feeling.

Matt's presence by her side was like a protective shield, pushing away all her fears and insecurities. His eyes, full of tenderness and understanding, met hers from time to time, conveying a silent message that he was there, ready to face any challenge alongside her. And there was nothing in the world that made him want to leave there.

With one smooth movement, Matt turned briefly to reach for the lavender air freshener that rested on the nightstand next to the bed. He activates the device with a delicate touch, releasing a fragrant mist that fills the room with the sweet scent of the flower. The soft, comforting scent envelops Y/N like a hug, calming her agitated mind and bringing an almost instantaneous feeling of serenity.

The mattress moved with Matt's movements, and he slowly turned around, now lying on his side and facing Y/N. His eyes met hers lovingly, and a smile played on his lips as he moved closer until their bodies were mere inches away.

"You still with me, sweetheart?" His voice was as soft as the cotton beneath their bodies, echoing off the walls that were surrounded by silence for long minutes.

"Uhm." Y/N murmured back, imitating him and turning so that she was lying on her side, facing him, the fog in her mind slowly dissipating.

With soft and delicate movements, Matt wrapped the girl in his arms, bringing her closer to his body, laying her head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart calming hers almost automatically.

"They don't matter, you know?"

Y/N felt a comforting warmth spread throughout her entire being upon hearing the brief and almost insignificant words, but that meant the world to her. She snuggled even closer to Matt, feeling his arms tighten around her waist where they held, allowing herself to sink into them like a safe haven from the storms of the outside world.

Matt lowered his head and gently kissed the top of his girl's head, breathing in the soft scent of lavender shampoo that emanated from her strands. Every touch was filled with love and devotion, a silent promise that he was there.

And so, cradled by the soft haze of love that surrounded them, Y/N and Matt surrendered to the present moment, the girl leaving behind all the worries and fears that haunted her, her heart begging to stay there forever.

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd @ccolleenn @sturniolo-lover1317 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @hrtyjy @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @thebottledwatersupplier @bellasfavbisexual @soso-scarlettolivia @maryx2xx @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[princessjojo-x]

1st House Synastry

within this synastry, theres an instant attraction & special chemistry, even if partners aren’t conventionally attractive or not each others usual type.

people who have any part of their ‘big 3’ (sun, moon or rising) in your first house, will stand out to you & make a very strong first impression on you. you’ll find their presence memorable & compelling upon first encounters.

one tends to only see one side to the other. one controls to what extent the other knows, never quite showing their true self.

through this connection, house gains new feelings or discoveries abt themselves, for better or worse.

also, planet has a natural respect for house.

(cancer placements or aries/taurus asc)

Venus

expect awkwardness upon first meeting bc house makes venus feels nervous.

both partners make evident the fascination they feel for each others bodies. there is a general adoration simply for who the other person is.

these partners always look aesthetically good together. their physical appearance just fit perfectly, barbie & ken vybz.

venus is obsessed & mesmerised by houses appearance. venus finds house physically perfect & irresistible. this will either cause house to feel very seen & loved, or cause house to perceive the rxship as superficial & empty. for example, venus being completely turned off just bc house got a bad haircut.

depending on how low or high venus’s self esteem is, once venus becomes comfortable around house, they may become envious & critical towards houses looks & image. venus may keep making comments on houses body, reminding house of their flaws. venus may feel like house isn’t truly ever enough; house may feel like venus puts them on an unrealistic pedestal & they always have to be “perfect” around venus. (cancer venus/ taurus asc)

Mars

due to the aries influence, this is likely a feisty couple, privately & publicly. both partners want to seize the dominant role & one assumes the other likes to provoke them. one feels the confident & masculine energy emitted by the other & either finds it excessive or arrousing. house may often annoy mars unintentionally & mars may often lack sensitivity towards house. this clash can lead to hurt feelings & even violence. outsiders struggle to understand this complicated dynamic. therefore, this aspect is best for those attracted to assertive & martian energy, otherwise you may view your partner as arrogant or bossy.

within this synastry, there isn’t necessarily romantic compatibility but there is definitely physical connection. for example, saying "i hate you" & kissing each other right after. sex is very passionate & powerful, with rough & competitive air.

initially, mars is instantly turned on by house & its often a superficial attraction. consequently, mars readily pursues house with a straightforward approach. mars’s passion captures houses attention & house feels either intrigued or irritated. however, if mars has a inferiority complex, due to feeling threatened by house, mars will resist making a move, even though both partners usually struggle hiding their feelings or intentions from one another.

house brings out the protective, jealous & possessive side of mars. this partnership may alter houses identify bc mars can motivate & urge house to be the best version of themselves. house develops more passion, assertiveness, confidence, bravery & ambition due to mars’s influence. however, if mars has low self esteem, they’ll become envious & critical towards houses image. mars may keep making comments on houses appearance & reminding house of their flaws. (cancer mars or taurus asc)

Moon

there’s plenty of emotional openness in this caring & gentle rxship. there’s no ‘get to know each other’ phase, partners instantly *know* one another from the first meeting & feel very comfortable around each other. partners easily let the guards down & struggle to keep secrets from one another. partners will be each other's lending ear & lending shoulder. they know eachothers sensitive spots & what topics to avoid. this aspect brings out partners protective side but it’s more of a calm, delicate & emotional protection. for example, worrying abt each others health & well-being. this connection make you more likely to find the other person’s quirks as endearing rather than off-putting.

initially, partners are very curious abt one another. they want to see what more there is than what meets the eye. T

partners may share similarities causing them to understand & accept one another easily. they may have familiar forms of behaviour & mirror each others temperamental tendencies.

house holds the ability to easily read moon & house understands moon better than anyone else. since house makes moon feel so seen & heard, moon easily let’s their guard down around house. moon’s openness arouses the nurturing & sensitive side of house. there is something abt the way moon looks or acts that makes house feel immediately safe & calm. (cancer moon or aries asc)

[alessiasfreckles]

14 leah plsss xoxoxo

the ways i love you - leah williamson x reader

14. A kiss to the stomach

warnings: negative body image

-------

You sighed, looking at yourself in the mirror. You had bought a new bikini for your holiday with Leah, wanting something cute to wear at the pool or on the beach.

You loved Leah with all your heart, but sometimes dating a professional footballer was hard. Especially when you were very much not a professional footballer and enjoyed chocolate a little more than you should. She was incredibly attractive, and her body was just amazing, but occasionally you'd catch yourself comparing your bodies, which you knew wasn't fair.

She would tell you that as well - that it was unfair and unrealistic to expect your body to look like that of a professional athlete, and that she loved the way your body looked, not just because it was gorgeous, stunning, sexy, but because it was your body.

Still, you'd catch yourself frowning when you saw your reflection, especially next to hers, and lately you'd been having to make an extremely conscious effort to not talk or think negatively about your body.

You turned, looking at yourself from the side in the mirror. You knew, logically, that most girls and afab people carried some fat on their stomach. That it wasn't anything unusual, or anything to be ashamed of. You poked your stomach with a grimace, watching it in the reflection.

Leah's voice echoed in your head, telling you how beautiful you were, and you rolled your eyes. As if she could read your mind, Leah poked her head around the bedroom door.

"Woah, look at you!" she said when she saw what you were wearing, whistling appreciatively. "Baby, you look fantastic! Is that a new bikini?"

You covered your stomach with your arms self-consciously, shrugging. "Yeah, I got it for our holiday. But I don't know, I might return it."

"What, why?" she asked, walking over to you and stopping a few feet away to look you up and down again. Her eyes lingered on your chest and legs, pausing at your arms covering your stomach.

You shrugged again. "I just, I feel too, I dunno, exposed? I don't think this is the right kind of thing for my body."

"I think it's exactly the right kind of thing for your body," Leah said firmly, then hesitated. "Can... Can I do something?"

You squinted at her suspiciously. "What?"

"Can you lie down on the bed for me? I just want to see if I can help make you feel better," she explained. When you raised an eyebrow her cheeks pinkened slightly. "Not sex! I mean, I'm happy to make you feel better that way, too, but that's not what I had in mind."

"Uh-huh," you said, smirking at her, but you got on the bed anyway, lying down.

"Can you close your eyes for me?" she asked. "If you want me to stop, just say, okay?"

You nodded, eyes closed, and felt Leah climb onto the bed, near your legs. You jumped when her hands brushed your calves and thighs, stroking them, massaging them.

"I love your legs," she started. "I love your legs because they're beautiful and they're yours, but I also love them because they're strong. They let you walk, run, swim. They're powerful. They help hold you up."

She placed kisses up and down each leg gently, the soft touch making your heart swell with love. Then she moved to your arms, straddling you to reach both easily. You grinned as she straddled you, and you could feel her laughing above you.

"This is not sexual, remember? Not yet at least," she said, and you could hear the smirk in her voice. She touched each arm, in a similar fashion to how she'd touched your legs, caressing them gently. "Anyway, where was I? Oh, your arms, and your hands. I love your arms. I love how soft your skin is, the dimple by your elbows. I love them because they let you hold my hand, they let you hug me, they let you do all sorts of things to me. Your arms are strong, like your legs, they're powerful and beautiful."

Your throat felt tight, like you were going to cry. Leah kissed your arms, making her way from your shoulders to your wrists.

"Your hands are so perfect. They fit in mine like we were made for each other, like two puzzle pieces linking together. Your hands do so many amazing things," she continued, and kissed each fingertip, then the palms of your hands.

You felt her body weight shift as she moved down, sitting on your thighs. You tensed as her hands came to rest on your stomach, aware of every movement she made, everywhere her hands touched.

"I love your stomach. I love how it looks, I love that it's soft, it's so beautiful and attractive. I love that if i touch it a certain way, like this, it makes your stomach feel like it's flipping and it makes you giggle," she said, brushing her hand over your stomach to prove her point, making you jump and smile when your stomach flipped. "I love that it lets you eat yummy food, that it makes so many noises at night when we're going to sleep, that one day our baby will be in there."

You felt a tear leak out of your closed eyes as she pressed kisses to your stomach, gently, as if she was worried about breaking you. Sniffling a little, you opened your eyes when you felt her move off you, coming closer to you.

"Oh, I didn't mean to make you cry," she said, wiping away your tears with the back of her hand.

"No, no, it's okay," you shook your head. "They're good tears."

"Oh, phew! I was worried," she smiled, stroking your cheek softly. "I love you. I love all of you, all of your body, all of your brain, so so much."

"I love you, too," you said, and she leant forward, kissing you, her lips soft against yours.

"And, I really do like this bikini," she said as she pulled back. She winked and reached down to the string on the side of the bikini, pulling it open. "It really does look amazing on you. But... I think it'd look even better off."

[useyourwordsdarling]

do you think there's a mismatch between guys and girls who are into daddy-babygirl bd/sm (when talking about hetero relationships)? i think guys tend to only be into tiny, short, skinny girls, usually white or asian, that directly fit the kink stereotype, while so many women in all shapes, ethnicities and sizes are also into daddy-babygirl bd/sm but won't be able to fulfil it because they don't fit the aesthetic. what do you think?

That’s an interesting question, I can’t say for sure if that’s something strictly on hetero relationships but you could say there’s specific expectations to body images when it comes to these daddy-babygirl dynamics, and those can be problematic. That involving a huge height difference and a girl who’s slim and short. While not everyone (maybe the majority) fits into that description. Making it harder for them to have to deal with this unreasonable expectation.

Then trying to find the reason for that, you could try to say it’s maybe it’s because of the stereotypes related to these kinks. Or also the fucked up beauty standards we have. Which create even more unrealistic expectations. I’m afraid I can’t find a simple reason to it, it can be many things.

But to those who might struggle with this and think they aren’t enough because of these stereotypes. I do think a big part of the daddy-babygirl dynamic isn’t necessarily related to physical size difference. To me at least, it’s more about making the other person feel small. Whether it is restraining, or calling them specific names.

The dynamic itself happens through actions and not merely something like size difference. So there’s absolutely nothing wrong with not fitting specific dumb standards, that’s not stopping you from participating in these kinks. And if anyone tells you that you need to be skinny and short to be into these kinks, honestly tell them to fuck off

[blondgirls-world]

57 Reasons

TW: Meanspo

01. You will be FAT if you eat today, just put it off one more day.

02. You don't NEED food.

03. Fat people can't fit everywhere.

04. Guys will be able to pick you up without struggling.

05. You'll be able to run faster without all that extra weight holding you back.

06. People will remember you as "the beautiful thin one".

07. If someone has to describe you, they'll say "oh she weighs like 90, 100 lbs".

08. Guys will want to get to know you, not laugh at you and walk away.

09. Starving is an example of excellent willpower.

10. You will be able to see your beautiful, beautiful bones.

11. Bones are clean and pure. Fat is dirty and hangs on your bones like a parasite.

12. If you eat then you'll look like those disgusting, fat, ghetto and trailer-trash hookers on Jerry Springer.

13. The models that everyone claims are beautiful, the spitting image of perfection, are any of them fat? NO!

14. Too many people in the world are obese.

15. People who eat are selfish and unrealistic.

16. Only fat people are attracted to fat people. Do you want pigs to like you because you are one of them.

17. Anyone can have "inner beauty" but few can earn real beauty, inside as well as out.

18. You'll be able to move as quietly and skillfully as a spider.

19. Only thin people are graceful.

20. If you slap a fat person you can see a shockwave ripple over their skin. That's disgusting.

21. Do you want people to say "for gods sake get off me you're crushing me!!!" or "you are sooo light" ???

22. Underweight aka perfect body.

23. Ballerina? or beanbag?

24. I want to be light enough so a helium balloon could lift me and carry me to the clouds.

25. I want to walk in the snow and leave no footprints.

26. Starve off the parts you don't need. They're ugly and they drag you down.

27. Nothing cant be fixed with hunger and weight loss.

28. Saying "no thanks" to food is saying "yes please" to THIN!!!

29. Fat people are so huge, yet people look away from them as if they don't exist.

30. The only time people do notice a fat person is when they get in the way of that beautiful thin girl walking by (ok that sounds really horrible i know.)

31. Have you ever seen a person NOT notice a walking skeleton.

32. Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.

33. Is food more important that happiness in life? I think not!

34. Eating is conforming to everyone else's expectations.

35. When you start to get dizzy and weak you're almost there.

36. Hunger is your friend and it won't betray you like food.

37. Food is mean and sneaky. It tricks you into eating it and it works on you from the inside out making you fat, bloated, ugly and unhappy.

38. Think of anorexia as your secret weapon.

39. If you can name one reason to be fat, I'll name a million and one to be thin.

40. Thin people look good in ANY kind of clothes.

41. Food rots your teeth.

42. Puffy cheeks, double chins and thick ankles-- aren't attractive.

43. Fatty areas stretch and sag as you get older.

44. Ever seen the arms of a fat person wave hello or goodbye?

45. Eating little to nothing saves you money!

46. The average (middle class) American wastes OVER $8,000 a year on FOOD ALONE...it goes in one end and out the other. That sure is a lot of fat! No wonder so many Americans are obese and overweight!

47. Fat people make their country look bad.

48. Big people sweat more and they smell bad.

49. Fat people die earlier.

50. You'll be the envy of all the other girls.

51. All of the guys will want you.

52. You're less likely to get food poisoning.

53. You won't be exposed to all the chemicals and pesticides they put in food today.

54. You won't get sweaty on hot days.

55. The word fat will only apply to you in a sarcastic way.

56. No one wants to see a fat person dance.

57. Beauty Queen? or Dairy Queen?

-Fading Obsession: Pro Ana Mia Website plus Forum (fadingobsessions.com)

[ronearoundblindly]

The Right Partner (2/3)

Steve Rogers x lab tech!Reader

Take My Whole Life, Too, Part One (see previous or series)

Summary: Your honeymoon with Steve Rogers begins.

Warnings for vague smut (don't worry, I make up for it in pt2), cuteass!Steeb being extra, unrealistic adorable sh*t, and my complete lack of shame about it. MINORS DNI. There is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist instead, but this one isn't for you! WC 3.1k

It’s bright and loud.

Well, there is light—a pale blue that gnaws at your heavy eyelids—and the song of birds.

The birds are, frankly, irrationally aggressive even for late morning.

You groan and turn over toward the inside of the tent, hoping for an hour more of darkness, maybe two.

Dehydrated. That’s what this heavy, sluggish feeling is. You should have had twice the water you managed to drink yesterday. No one would fault you for having other priorities on your wedding day though.

Your fingers branch out to find the bed empty.

From your exposed shoulder beyond the comforter, you gauge it is quite chilly here wherever you are. You didn’t even ask Steve if he found out what state (or country) you two landed in. Who cares? You burrow deeper, peeking over the thick quilted seam to see—

“What are you doing?”

Steve’s back is to you when you hear a metallic clatter in the utility sink. He whips around in just his boxers, raising a hand to cover his mouth and garble out “nothing.”

You’re prone and below eye level to the countertop, so you sit up to look while Steve poorly hides his sin by leaning over the surface.

He swallows heavily.

“You want some tea,” he rushes to ask in a failingly casual tone. “I’ve got water heating.”

“Steven Grant Rogers,” you jump up to stand on the mattress, knocking your head against the springy ceiling, and step down. “Are you eating our wedding cake without me?”

“You wouldn’t even give me some yesterday,” he whines, placing himself protectively between your approach and the confection. His guilty brows raise with sincerity.

“Oh, please! You got cake, and then you—” you poke his bare chest, glancing at the now quarter-demolished top tier “—you complained it wasn’t your flavor!”

“But…” Steve simply points. No other words come to mind based on his still-stunned expression.

“Fine,” you chuckle, relaxing to stretch your large sweater over your chilled hands and thighs, “I won’t tell anyone you’re nothing but a little sweets-thief. Hot tea sounds lovely though.”

“Allow me,” he smiles and leans in for a kiss, tasting of sugar and lemon like the night you got engaged, the night you first…oof. After just one reminder, the sweater is suddenly plenty warm.

“Thank you.”

The flood of mental images rushes from your brain, down your body, to your full bladder.

Next stop: the bathroom.

While he sorts out your morning boost, you chug a bottle of water to help with the rough, sluggish feeling weighing on you. No soreness though, which is good.

Steve returns triumphant with a camping mug and steeping, steaming wakeup juice, and you give him your own soft peck on his cheek.

No doubt he continues his dessert for breakfast the instant you step out to use the facilities aboard the jet. Good, he deserves all the cake, as much as he wants, whenever he wants.

The tiny mirror isn’t as scary as you thought it would be, but you do have to rummage around for a few straggling hairpins. A splash of cool water on your face just before you emerge is more refreshing than expected, too. The day is fresh, you are fresh, and your marriage is fresh.

You cradle the mug in your palms, making to leave, when your gown catches your eye hanging at the locker closest to the ramp, right beside Steve’s uniform.

Yesterday feels like the most wonderful, blinding blur.

All the military men (and women) wore their first uniforms, and you have to admit it created a sharp-looking bunch. Geeta’s uniform was only from nine years ago, Wilson’s just over fifteen, Rhodes’s nearly thirty, and of course, Steve and Bucky’s come in at eighty years old. Not shockingly, their uniforms were replicas, but the boys were very picky about the details.

Gracie, Natasha, Ro, Pepper, Tony and Bruce all kept their fancy dress within the same neutral palette. Morgan and Felicity were flower (leaf) girls. Standing at the alter as a bride, a groom, and their ‘besties,’ you amassed a punk, a jerk, a nerd, and a Booboo.

Your subdued red, white, and blue gown made the boldest statement of the day.

You were so worried yesterday morning. You thought the statement would read as if you were devoting yourself to an ideal, harping that you are in some ways ‘Misses America,’ but it’s more than that. You didn’t want to walk down that aisle and sign over who you are, to belong to someone else, even someone as magnificent as Steve Rogers.

Then you saw his face.

That man belongs to you as much as you belong to him. The look of pure, undiluted, delighted adoration nearly knocked you over. You’re lucky you made it through your vows. You melted inside to help your poor, fumbling Sketch with his own speech. Bucky winked once you finally got his buddy to the important bit.

Then that kiss.

Gosh, all this time you thought maybe the desperate heat of your first kiss in an evacuated AvIn hallway couldn’t be recreated—much less topped—but you were wrong. The boning in your bodice is the real hero, that’s for sure. Girl’s gotta have good support when it counts.

Speaking of being weak for a man, you think, sipping at hot tea, better get back in there. That, plus your legs are freezing.

A polaroid snaps the instant you cross the zip-up threshold, along with praises of your beauty. You blink rapidly but smile.

“What’s that?”

“Your wedding present,” Steve beams. He fakes a frown at your following ‘we weren’t doing presents’ look. “Not big ones. They’re just for fun.”

He picks up another Canon film camera, a hefty black and silver thing from his hard-sided suitcase, and hands it to you.

“Thought they’d be nice for the trip.”

You weigh it in your hands, eye the Polaroid, then switch with Steve.

“That one’s more of an artsy-fartsy Sketch thing,” you say, stepping around him with your new toy, rushing to grab toasty sweatpants from your own bag.

As you bend over to pull out the garment though, you hear a mechanical click and whip around.

Steve still faces away from you, but his head is slightly turned and he softly whistles, so of course, you lift your Polaroid and snap a picture of his ass, too. He wrinkles his nose, looking over his shoulder with an unhidden smile. You shake out the photo card provocatively while he suits up for the fireside in a sweater and jeans.

He glances at the developed shot and, seeming satisfied, plants one more kiss on your forehead.

He hums as he holds up his picture of you entering the tent, thumb tracing the line of your hip exposed like it was on the glossy magazine pages after your bear debacle.

“Yes, ‘m out there distracting all the wild animals,” you joke.

“It’s working,” he mutters. “Hungry, Misses Rogers?”

Yeah, you think, but you’ll need fewer clothes again. Instead, your stomach gurgles in response.

“Why? Do I finally get some cake?”

“Just a taste.” He kisses your lips, which you lick immediately after. “But I was thinking more like eggs. The fire’s ready.”

Your stomach growls louder. “Shhh, peanut gallery.”

Steve puts a hand over your stomach, chuckling. “At least she’s honest.”

The light pressure of his wide palm lingers even when he steps out to the camp ground. It triggers a potent flash of life with him.

You’ve spoken about kids and it will happen (or at least you’ll try) in due course, but he’s come home from missions with doubts about bringing children up in this world. What matters to both of you is having each other, and you know he’d be enough good and love for your lifetime. Even though you can always revisit the issue, that deep flutter ravages your gut while you watch him cook breakfast.

With another hunger pang, you remember how your stomach voicing her opinion is one of the reasons you’re together. One, solitary growl started the first real night of hanging out with Steve. Without it, he wouldn’t have shared a leftover meal (and cake—hint, hint, buddy), he wouldn’t have let you in his apartment, he wouldn’t have driven you and your car home the next morning, and he wouldn’t have given you some of his own clothes to wear.

You pull the sleeves of his sweater over your chilling hands and bury your nose in the fabric, inhaling deeply.

You wonder which one of those incidental, accidental moments was the tipping point, whether removing just one experience of you would have stopped Steve from seeing you, stopped him from loving you.

After a while, you pick up the polaroid. You can see his ease through the lens. Steve is in his element, chatting away while preparing a meal, planning what you two can do together next, complimenting how you look in his sweatpants and meaning it so profusely that his eyes light up whenever he looks your way.

You thought you caught it on camera, all of him, all of his happiness, but the shot isn’t close enough to do it justice. Your heart will just have to remember.

Yes, Steve Rogers on his own is more than enough. He is the gift. He’s your treasure.

You can’t decide what you want to do next, but a strong shiver running through you gives a hint: get warm.

Eggs are a good start.

When the food is done, Steve refills your tea and makes his own.

You snuggle up into the covers of the bed again, leaning your head into the dip of Steve’s sternum, using your furnace husband to full effect. The birds aren’t so annoying now. The air is so crisp and refreshing, laced with the smell of Steve’s skin. The rise and fall of his chest is so soothing as you sip and ponder the future.

Steve fiddles with the dials on the vintage camera above you. That’s the last thing you remember before waking up again, this time wrapped in his warm, toasty arms.

For once, he hasn’t woken up yet. He’s stretched, out-cold and perfectly content, unmoving as you wiggle out of the covers.

He never rests in the middle of the day, so you have to capture his sleepy form, eyes still tucked beneath the comforter, keeping the light out for just a little longer. He’s so beautiful.

Your husband is so beautiful.

Steve desperately wants to take the wedding presents for a spin out in the woods, so the afternoon is entirely consumed by a hike.

The Polaroid makes too much noise for wildlife and can’t focus on the tinier details among the branches and leaves, so you settle for jotting down some fanciful descriptions that come to mind and watch him sneak closer to birds, bugs, and color-changing foliage.

He gets so distracted with excitement that you two walk much farther than intended. Steve insists on carrying you the last few miles of your return, and you spend the entire piggyback ride with your chin tucked over his shoulder, your cheek against his neck, quietly discussing what you’d like to change in your lives now that you’re officially married.

Nothing. The answer is nothing.

Nothing needs to change because you two are the exact same people as forty-eight hours ago. Perhaps the rings on your fingers mean more for your life, but they just transmuted the love already in existence to matter.

Steve’s bright blue eyes go dreamy with philosophizing.

Your husband is beautiful, smelling of fresh air and optimism.

Steve refuses to miss another sunset, so you two lay in the hammock before lighting your evening fire.

You snuggle and chat, teasing each other, telling stories. You watch the Milky Way bloom to life above you.

Something Steve never figured out was how the Team knew about his plan to propose. He’s been going over it and over it, but he can’t see where he gave himself away. Steve says, when he asked Bucky yesterday in the men’s ready room, Bucky smirked.

Apparently, Steve, only once while you two dated, told his friend “there’s an order to these things,” and that was enough. Buck knew Steve’s intentions immediately, watching for the signs, the clues. Everyone understands that for a long time now Steve has resented his birthday is a holiday—not in a disrespectful way, but it annoys him that the day is already a big, loud affair,—and the whole group guessed (correctly) Steve would rather replace the symbolism with his own meaning.

“And hey,” Steve rumbles, faking Tony’s nonchalance as he quotes the billionaire playboy, “if you chickened out, fireworks are fireworks.”

His added shrug for effect shifts you and rocks the dangling net.

“Almost did, didn’t you?” you chuckle. “Chicken out?”

Your husband’s whole body tweaks harshly.

“You know I was scared shitless, Keeps! Almost fainted.”

“Or at least fell off your one knee…”

His hands fly up to scrub at his stubbled face, pinning you. “Oh! It was so bad,” he groans.

You sit up carefully in the wobbly fabric of the hammock, barely suppressing more laughter, and pound a flat palm at his chest. “It’s ok, soldier. You got the job done. We got there in the end.”

Steve’s hand covers yours, his peaceful smile glowing in the soft starlight.

He reaches to cradle your cheek, sweeping a delicately callused thumb over your skin.

“I almost can’t believe it,” Steve says quietly.

“Believe what?”

He could mean the beauty of the sky, or that Tony knocked it out of the park with your escape of a honeymoon, or that he didn’t croak instead of getting through all those mental and physical hurtles to be with you. You’re just not sure. Personally, you’ve ‘almost not believed it’ since the Captain America started talking to you, so it’s hard to judge.

Steve doesn’t answer right away. His voice grows even softer. “Happy. That’s all.”

Your heart breaks and mends in an instant.

“You can’t believe you’re happy?”

He goes shy, ducking then raising his gaze even higher towards the treetops. He clears his throat before admitting, “I lead…an unusual life. Not many would want this.”

“I dunno. Seems pretty nice to me,” you giggle.

“Yes, but—“ he pulls you into his chest and squeezes “—I get no guarantees. Not like others. We couldn’t even set a date. We could have been waiting years to get married.”

It’s your turn to shrug.

“You got something else to do?”

“No,” he sighs, “just more of this.” He nudges your body closer and closer to his, until all your arms and legs are tangled together. “As much as possible. I only meant…I love you.

“I love you, and I don’t think I had any faith left that I would find you.”

You. Not someone like you. Not someone for him.

You.

Even without a fire, even without sunlight, even without shelter surrounding you, Steve provides everything you could ever need: heat, comfort, safety. He provides, and it’s only right that he should have the favor returned.

Happiness. That’s what this is. Happiness that wasn’t guaranteed. Happiness that wasn’t expected. Happiness that was hard-earned.

Your muscles shiver and your skin tingles, all with need of him. “Sweetheart,” you whisper, clawing at his sweater.

He knows. He sees. He feels it, too.

When Steve lunges to kiss you though, the hammock swings with your combined weight and tries to topple you.

You giggle and squeal, flipping out and onto the ground with zero grace, and he follows.

Steve crawls over you, starlight and the glow from the tent painting his face in primary colors.

“Here, Mrs. Rogers?” He fakes shock. “In the dirt?”

“You fucked me on that picnic table just last night,” you joke, a dark, taunting edge to your voice which he matches.

Steve leans in again. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t.”

He holds your gaze, his focus flickering to your lips while the crickets’ song roars around you.

It sounds silly after all you’ve done to get Steve out of his shell, but what you crave most in this moment is the familiar, traditional love-making that he offers best. His tenderness leads you on a merry dance not unlike long wilderness walks. He’s consumed by discovery and attention to how you feel in that very second. To him, you change as frequently as the landscape. He yearns to explore what’s the same, what’s new.

Steve never phones-in sex. He never just goes through the motions. Somehow, he makes an art of reevaluating your body, your pleasure, each and every time. He’s the proof vanilla is an infinite flavor.

But…

That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the chase.

Steve is leaning in to kiss you when your knee raises to his chest, halting his progress. You bite your lip and scramble to the ‘door’ of the tent. Obviously, he lets you win because he could easily have snatched you into his grasp.

Steve’s laugh stays close, but he follows all the way to the bed.

There’s something to be said about a good ol’ fashioned undressing, garment by garment, that dance of who leads and how much they touch the other as each piece of clothing falls away. Steve’s become a very good dancer.

Nothing is rushed. Nothing is missed.

He doesn’t combine the acts of maneuvering you and dragging open mouth kisses along your skin. He moves you, and then he lingers.

Time spent mapping you is time well spent to Steve Rogers.

You’re drunk on him. High on him. It’s an out-of-body experience that has you watching his broad back curve sharply while he thrusts and traces your collarbone with his tongue, noticing your toes seize up from force of your first orgasm, and admiring how fine his ringed finger looks laced in with yours and pinned over your head.

No one leaves the tent. The evening fire never gets started.

After a long and sweaty fuck in the bed, you’re filthy, gathering food for Steve who’s hungry, following you around with wipes. It’s comical how thoroughly you try to take care of each other.

No. Sit still. No. Let me just grab this. No. Fine. Together?

You two finish the top tier of cake after cleaning off…because Steve Rogers is the most stubborn, beautiful, and optimistic husband.

[Next Part]

[Main Masterlist; Fools Rush In Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[couragecomesfromwithin]

polin love scene 🪞

now I haven’t seen much discourse about the nudity in Ep 5 particularly, but I have heard how some fans have been disappointed with how much was “teased” versus what they feel we deserved. maybe there was more and it was cut back, maybe they were respecting boundaries while trying to still satisfy fans I don’t know… But I do just want to acknowledge in fact how lucky we are. How proud we all should be, of both of them.

But Nicola. Beautiful, radiant Nicola Coughlan.

This woman had already shared her anxieties and boundaries around what was pitched in the book vs what she would be comfortable doing, long before it was posed or undertaken. I also want to remind you of the obnoxious, rude and disrespectful discussions and opinions she has already had to face about her body. Previously and still most recently. She put that all back on the line like never before undertaking and exposing so much in that scene. Naked. Not in some bitty show or a stage where it is only to a privileged ticketed few. But to a worldwide phenomenon.

This woman’s image will likely land on porn and xxx websites. It shouldn’t, but it will, alongside other actresses who have given similar performance simulations. And she will be judged and belittled by small, horrid people hiding behind the anonymity of the interweb. Maybe they will not reach her directly. We can hope, but they will be out there-and in a way it never was going to be for the first two leading ladies. Because they fit within the superficial societal expectations of what constitutes beauty. And indeed they are beautiful, but not because of the size of their waistlines. This woman is beautiful, and bold and she chose to find the empowerment in undertaking that level of exposure. She chose to honour what was expressed in the book. What we got to witness , it has been a privilege, not something we were ever entitled to. She is not an adult entertainer, she is not an explicit model, she is an actor. A performer. A brilliant, vibrant one at that, and she is proud, and happy. We should be proud and happy. She has given us a gift, she has risked the vulnerability of more unwarranted, cruel opinions and commentary on her naked body. I am so proud of her, I am so proud of who she represents, all these beautiful, sexy women who do not fit within the unrealistic ideals of a world that equates the size of a dress, the numbers on a scale and the absence of “imperfection” to the worthiness of a person. A human being.

She is resplendent. Unless you have ever faced- even with the support of an intimacy coordinator- filmed nudity, as an actor, it is intimidating. It’s you, but not you, in all your naked glory, with nothing to hide behind but the belief and identity of being another person and an absolute trust in those you create that moment with. And with the advance of social media, reality tv and the internet clearly the world’s ability to see the distinct line between character and performer, has become increasingly blurred for the socially inappropriate. And they will tell you exactly what they think, without a drop of consideration or care…and whether you are doing it for the first time or twelfth time as you sit in a robe, very nearly naked, You will still have this small voice of “o god, am I going to regret doing this?” And you make a choice.

You choose to trust, in yourself and those around you... But this is captured, memorialised on film for better or for worse, forever. Your family may see the it, your future children, grandchildren. It may sit in the minds of strangers, people who you will sit opposite on the tube- and who won’t say a thing…Not that you may really want them to.. but you just may catch their eye, sparkling with recognition, and think to yourself ‘oh geez, what if what they are thinking about what I look like naked’…which feels stupid and shallow, but for such a moment as a nudity scene, it ultimately becomes part of your legacy- it stays with you. Your career…hell people may still bring it up again 30 years down the line on a chat show (👀..Brooke shields, Sharon stone…there are still female performers who’s careers are ultimately stalled and who are judged for undertaking such scenes, who find that suddenly they are no longer so respected) and to recognise that…that to do this, it’s still a big thing, and we still do it anyway, because you believe in what you are doing and why you are doing it, to take pride and pleasure in what you do and the stories you tell and the characters and experiences you bring to life… it is beautiful and worthy of a little respect and acknowledgement.

now I’m not saying we are wrong to have wished for more, or different…but I do want to recognise what we did get, and how incredibly lucky we are in that. We should be so worthy and accept with grace the beautiful performances and attentions as was clearly given by the whole cast, crew and production.

[slasher-smasher]

More Homelander thoughts

I literally just wrote this RIGHT as I got up this morning. (4 am kill me) this will probably not make sense.

As much as I would love to see Homelander come heh apart during sex, I think that him being introduced to the most simplest concept of skinship or experiencing intimate things that doesn't lead to hard core pound town would have the same devastating impact on him.

Like, ok bare with me and my sleep addled nonsense brain but I would like to just start off with just having him experience some cuddles. Maybe it's early in the relationship (firm believer he is demisexual like me!) and you guys are still getting to know each other and you notice how tired he is viscerally even if he is still plastering that smiley persona. So you offer your lap to rest his head and maybe watch a movie. He might be weary at first but when you start absentmindedly carding your fingers through his hair? Oh man. Everyone KNOWS how that man would melt. Madelyn knew what she was doing with this starved boy.

Next would be a little spicier and—more importantly—fun! I want that man to experience what I call "teenager moments" like pulling him into an empty room just to make out or sneak around maybe into restricted areas for more cuddles and kisses because you know he gets stressed and it's fun to see what you guys can get away with.

Now this is (personally for me) the most important part for him. As I mentioned above, I think skinship for this broken and insecure man would do wonders. The trust in you for him to even consider taking off the top of his suit let alone all of it at the same time would have to be deep.

I think the biggest thing he is sensitive about is his body image. I'd suggest little touches to his neck and maybe sliding your fingers a little under the sleeves of his suit to caress the skin of his wrists and (if you can) forearms bit by bit to get him used to having not only the feeling of other parts of him being touched but to know that you WANT to explore other parts of him. That you are not just there for self satisfaction and want to make HIM feel good. You want to feel his warm flesh under your hands —the beat of his heart, not the pads of the faux muscle that Vaught wants people to think he has.

This is that part where you would combine the intimacy of making out and cuddles with the extra step of removing an article of clothing. He would feel much better when you also remove your clothing. He hates feeling vulnerable.

With Vought shoving unrealistic media and propaganda down his throat since infancy, Homelander would immediately think naked = sex but you would have to convince him that you are not expecting sex. You have to show him that just feeling the skin of your partner against yours can be just as intimate.

You could be in his lap or vice versa and he would marvel in the sensation of having your chest pressed against his with no thickly padded barrier. Moaning into your mouth as you slid your hands down his shoulders and back.

This would be so cathartic for him. He was always expected to give and provide and act a certain way but with just the two of you sitting on the couch or bed, caressing each others skin. Finding small things like his ribs being sensitive or just enjoying the warmth and scent of your naked skin. He doesn't have to worry about fulling expectations. You love him.

Expect tears and sad little whimpers. This man needs a full blown naked cuddle session.

Sorry if this is just random ranting that makes no sense. I had to get this out or I would be consumed.

[shslbunnylover]

★★★𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙚 (𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙩𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙖𝙮 13: 𝙈𝙞𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙚𝙭)★★★

Character: Alcina Dimitrescu

Taglist: @inlovewithgreta @lilfartbox1 @marvels--slut

Trigger warnings (DL, DI): Mirror sex, boss/employee dynamics, body image issues, clitoral stimulation, Top Alcina/Bottom reader,

Genre: Smut (With hurt/comfort)

A/n: New character bitches!!

Word count: 1.1k

...

...

It was pornographic the way you were positioned, the way your ass was perfectly laid in between the beautiful pair of legs that belonged to the one and only Alcina Dimitrescu, grinding up against her heated sex. Your body was completely nude except for your black lingerie that was quickly torn off your body with the help of the taller woman's claws that emerged from her fingernails.

"So...do you want to explain why you're here in between my legs?" Alcina asks, her hand finding it's way to grip your chin after retracting her claws back into her hands.

You shake your head with only a whimper trembling from your lips, fully aware of the reason you were in such a lewd state, and it was all because of your own stupid body image. You had been trying really hard, you were trying to care of yourself, you were trying so hard to love yourself for the sake of your own mental health and well-being.

You looked over at your maid's uniform, a black and white colette uniform given to you by your wonderful employer at the Dimitrescu castle, tears threatening to prick at your eyes from the fear you felt of the woman holding you.

"My lady...I assure you my problems won't affect my work in any way," You whimpered, looking forward to face the mirror you and the black-haired woman were propped up in front of.

Alcina growled in response, eyes narrowing as her grip increased on your chin, turning the skin around it slightly red thanks to the pressure.

"I don't care what you assure me, my pet," She replied, sliding her opposite hand to your aching cunt, rubbing her thumb around your sensitive bundle of nerves. "I want an explanation for the reason you were being mean to yourself,"

You shiver under her touch as you're aware of how intoxicating yet terrifying it is.

"It's nothing My Lady, please rest assured that it wouldn't-"

You're once again cut off by the aggressive grip of Alcina pausing your speech in order for her to speak.

"I have already told you little mouse, you are not to be mean to yourself as long as you work for me," Her seductive voice said, the lust and anger in her voice causing for a trail of goosebumps to appear on your back. "Now explain,"

You take a deep breath, eyes finally letting the tears fall as you began to explain, your speech being mixed with the moans caused by Alcina, who was currently rubbing your clit just a bit more aggressively than before.

"I just wish my body was as beautiful as any of the other maids in the castle, they have everything perfect!" You confess, the end of your sentence being a bit higher in pitch thanks to your lewd whimpers and soft cries.

The older woman only hummed in response, letting go of your chin as you quickly hid your face from the sight of the mirror, becoming slightly shocked when Alcina only sped up her pace to suck out all of your whimpers and moans, not even bothering to pick your head up to face the mirror.

"Little mouse, beauty is a construct," She simply said, her voice beginning to soten as her other hand began to caress your thigh. "You're expected to be skinny, but curvy, but no too curvy that you show any weight other than on your butt and breasts. You're expected to have a symetrical face when that's not even possible to achieve. You're expected to have perfect skin but if you cover it with makeup so that you do have perfect skin, you're a liar. There are so many things us ladies are expected to do that I could go hours on about, but the point is that they're all unrealistic."

Your ears perked up a little, your body still on fire from how fast your orgasm was approaching your shaking body.

Alcina had a plan though, and you were unknowingly following each step to the letter.

"You have to love your body, it's the only one you have," The older woman smiled, showing just how much she cared for her favorite maid. "Our smiles are what make us beautiful, along with our sounds, everything else is just a bonus,"

And just as Alcina planned, you spoke up once again.

"But I just am ugly! You don't get it because you're so beautiful!" You cried out, one of your hands covering your mouth to muffle the noises of pleasure that were currently escaping your throat at high volume.

The golden eyed woman smirked, quickly pulling her hand away from your clit, and using her other to pull your head up to face itself in the mirror.

You cried out in pain over the loss of her touch, tears managing to prick at your eyes as you begged for her to pleasure you like she had been doing.

Alcina's eyes narrowed, and you felt a shiver go down her spine at the sudden glare and lack of warmth in her expression.

"Why would I let an ugly girl cum?" She asked, "Why would I pleasure someone who's ugly?"

Your body froze up at that, and your eyes finally locked with themselves in the mirror, and you truly saw a beautiful person. Even with how blissed out and sweaty you were from the older woman's somewhat magical touch, you somehow saw beauty in you. True beauty.

The lady holding you smirked, and she slid her hand down to your clit, beginning to toy with it but at a much slower pace than originally.

"So if you want to cum, you're going to admit that you're beautiful, my little mouse,"

You blushed furiously, and you took a deep breath.

"I'm beautiful,"

More speed was put into Alcina's touch, your moans filling the room as you gripped onto her thighs, watching your pornographic scene that was displayed in the mirror in front of you.

"Thats a good little mouse, now cum for me, cum all over my fingers while screaming about how I was right, how you are truly gorgeous," She cooed, her fingers moving at speeds so quick your brain was practically going haywire.

"You were right! I'm beautiful! I'm beautiful just the way I am! I ahhh~!!!" You screamed, coming completely undone in Alcina's arms.

Her touch was still soft as she looked down at you as you began to curl up in her arms and cry softly from gratitude.

"You're my little mouse, and you are beautiful despite what your brain tells you," She smiled softly in an uncharacteristic way as she licked the white fluid of her fingers.

[gatheringbones]

[“Talking to one another in the nude made us more realistic about our physical selves. We took turns sharing how we felt about our bodies and our orgasms. I made it a point to go first to set an example by intimately sharing my own current feelings. It was amazing to hear a woman with a beautiful body tear herself apart, while another woman who was easily fifty pounds overweight explain why she liked her body and felt comfortable in it. When a woman expressed unqualified love for her body, she became our inspiration for selflove.

When we talked about orgasm, our images were either unclear or confused. For one woman, the experience of orgasm was a major emotional event; for another, it was a minor pleasure, and for yet another, it was a complete mystery. Often one or two women weren’t sure if they were having orgasms, and they either had no idea what to expect or they had unrealistic romantic expectations. Several women who had said they were not coming discovered they were having little orgasms. They had thought all orgasms were shatteringly intense like the ones they had read about in erotic literature. Most of the other women were orgasmic one way or another, but they were interested in learning more about masturbation. Some women had good orgasms with oralsex but not with intercourse. Others could come with intercourse but couldn’t get off alone. Still others were having orgasms with themselves but not with a partner. All of the orgasmic women agreed on one thing: their experience of orgasms varied greatly from one orgasm to the next.

After all the talking, it was time for action. I would start off by doing a skit imitating myself in the “proper” female role. I pretended to be teetering off balance in the modern footbinding of high heels. Draping myself into feminine poses, I occupied as small a space as possible. It was a good imitation because when I was a fashion illustrator, I’d taken “femininity” to its extremes. Everyone would laugh with recognition. Then we’d practice standing up straight, looking at our posture in a mirror. Walking tall with our heads up, tits out, buttocks tucked under, and clits forward completely changed our appearances and attitudes.”]

betty dodson, from orgasms for one: the joy of selfloving, 1992

[girlonthelasttrain]

[...]Cars in RGU represent the ideal of adulthood: its power, freedom, and status. But they’re a false ideal – adults do drive cars, after all, but it’s not what makes one. It’s a child’s idea of what the adult world holds, one that’s being used by Akio to tempt his duelists into action (notice that no one else is ever permitted to drive, as Akio would never give up the control he holds).

[...]If the series was about a child’s attempt to become an individual, regardless of the expectations of society, then we can read the movie as the actual process by which she reaches adulthood. The film has a much more pronounced emphasis on the physical body than the series ever did, as well as making explicit the romantic attraction between Anthy and Utena.[...] But more than that, the film’s awareness is Utena’s awareness. She’s letting go of the unrealistic white prince ideal (here symbolized by Touga rather than Dios), and becoming aware of her own desires and those Anthy feels toward her.

Utena’s transformation into a car comes at the exact moment she accepts the change within herself, and asks Anthy to see the world with her (also notice that she loses her ring, the symbol of the Prince ideal). She’s finally ready to become an adult, a process that isn’t easy or painless by any stretch of the imagination. So, she’s a car now – the image of what she thinks an adult should be. And who kindled that desire for growth and adulthood in her? Naturally Anthy turns out to be the one in possession of Akio’s keys – indeed, she had them all along. The two become a team, with Anthy the steering factor (insert your own ‘turns her on’ joke here), and Utena the ambitious force that will free both of them. And though they’re nearly crushed by Akio, they ultimately emerge on the other side into a world with no roads. This is, we’re meant to understand, the ‘real’ world. And what’s left of the car, that paragon of adulthood and self-actualization? Just the frame, and the two women who pushed each other into growing up. Both are stripped of their expectations and roles, and thus when they kiss it’s both a physical joining and a kind of naked ‘understanding’ of each other’s personhoods. For the two of them, adulthood is only the means to continue forward on uncertain paths, free and under their own power rather than anyone else’s. And without that stupid car, they never would’ve made it there.

— The End of Adolescence, the Beginning of Agency; or, I Know Why She Turns into a Car by Vrai Kaiser

[sangoqueenkoko]

cough*

aight so

WE’RE BACK WITH ANOTHER PSA‼️

(also i didn’t expect the previous one to pop off… thanks)

back on the topic of raging about fanfic tropes,

and todays rant is

drum roll, please!

🥁🥁

smaus! ✨

or also known as a Social Media Alternate Universe! quite popular in the fanfic community of course.

but i have an ick.

an ick that has stayed with me ever since i discovered and got into the genre.

and that ick is what people use for them, as in face claims.

before i say anything else, i have no problem with face claims, but what annoys me is what the person in said images seems to wear or look like.

not every female on the planet wears short tank tops with small-ass tiddies! heck, there's a big chunk of women/girls who don't like showing skin, even me, because it could be a part of insecurity or something else i won't mention.

not in a mean way, so please don't come at me, but not everyone's body can fit into every clothing type, or they don't like it, but even if the smau mentioned is interesting, readers are put off because of what the face claim is wearing or what they look like.

to me, the stereotypical smau face claim is a white woman, perfect skin, blonde hair and wearing short tank tops (which I hate at this point).

and as a white, blonde, nearly 20-year-old woman with moderate skin, i hate it. i loathe being blonde, and i don't like blonde being a stereotype for this stuff. use brown hair, or even black hair, black hair is rare in our days in my eyes

faceless smaus are nice because they're just Twitter threads with made-up usernames and comments that use reaction memes, and they're funny as fuck. but only some writers do that, specifically certain fandoms

*this links to my previous rant on 'x readers and how the aforementioned body details defeat the purpose

there's probably more i could write about this but i can't think at the moment, may do another, idk

Tl;dr: i dont like smaus that use stereotypes and the same clothing types every time as it is unrealistic to what the reader may look like!

[hologramcowboy]

You can so...why don't you?

Please forgive me for the below rant, I just might cry if I'll see one more AA post that shows lack of balance and complete disregard of self and others over a ship or celebrity:

You can...choose real family and friends over fictional ships and celebrities.

You can...invest money in Yourself and your Dreams instead of going into debt over conventions.

You can...work on your self concept, image and body until you reach your desired state instead of blindly worshipping that celeb with the fitter body or whatever attribute you put on a pedestal (mental, physical, etc).

You can...choose role models that can uplift, inspire and guide you instead of worshipping z listers like Danneel who bring nothing of value to your life.

You can...invest in knowledge, mentors, collaborators instead of stalking celebrities.

You can...choose self worth and care instead of devaluing yourself over a celebrity's image (need I remind you they have entire teams of people who handle their body and image?)

You can set healthy boundaries and find resonance with real friends instead of mass bullying others who have different views over fandom faves and fandom related topics.

You can...choose to see your fav actor as a real human that has both good and bad aspects, just like you, instead of making up an unrealistic image with false expectations that will pull you into mania and other mental unbalances.

You can...use your admiration as inspiration to build your own dreams instead of choosing envy or jealousy.

You can...love your fav without hating the others. You can...give yourself permission to have your own views and allow other to do the same.

You can do all this and so much more but the question is: Will you?

I believe in you. Please believe in yourself. You are enough.

Fandom and art can inspire you but should never overshadow you or the gifts the Universe blessed you with.