#we as a society need to stop making fun of women wearing make up and start making fun of men with facial hair

[jrueships]

stupid

gay recognition when your bestie finally arrives at the brunch

[sakuralovespossums]

JJK Teachers x Autistic Student Reader (Platonic)

Satoru Gojo 🩵

It’s obvious that jujutsu society still lives by old fashioned and bigoted ideals (ie. hating women and non-sorcerers) so it wouldn’t surprise me if they were also ableist.

As a result, it can be pretty challenging being a neurodivergent sorcerer student without options for accommodations or counseling, as if being a sorcerer student itself wasn’t hard enough.

Still, you tried your best to mask your autism and keep up with your peers the best you could.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Gojo though (the guy sees through everything, c’mon)

He would quickly take notice of your behavior and habits (stimming, disassociation, difficulty grasping social queues)

He suspects that you may be on the spectrum and looks into your student files to confirm. Once he’s proven right, he decides to do some research on it himself so that he can better understand and help you.

One day after class, Gojo calls you to stay for a minute so you guys can talk.

“Hey y/n! Mind if we chat for a bit? It’ll only be a minute!”

You feel nervous as you walk towards him, hoping you didn’t do anything wrong.

“Listen, I know we’re not exactly in the same boat, but I know what it’s like to mask around others all the time.” He says while pulling his eye mask.

He tells you he gets feeling different from everyone and having to put on a persona to make them like you.

“Just know that you don’t have to wear it around me. I’m your teacher and I wanna get to know the real y/n. Course, it’s up to you though. I’m not pushing.”

He then tells you that he’ll make the accommodations you need to help make your classroom experience less stressful.

And if any of those old geazers complain about it, they’ll have to take it to him.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until he hands you a napkin with your favorite character printed on it.

It’s a gift he got for you from his recent mission.

You happily accept it and wipe your tears away before embracing him in a tight hug. He returns the hug with one arm as he looks down at you with a genuine smile.

He’s glad he could reach out to you and make you feel safe around him.

Since then, Gojo takes more note of your autism and accommodates to it however he can.

You’d think he wouldn’t care with how……insensitive he can be, but he does acknowledge the impact mental health can have on people. He couldn’t be there for Suguru, but he’ll try to be there for you.

He asks you what kind of foods you like/don’t like before he leaves for his missions, so that he knows what kind of snacks to bring back for you.

Makes sure you understand the instructions and materials in class. He’ll check on you privately, just in case you don’t want him asking you in front of the other students.

Will still make you the butt of some of his jokes (but it’s never to make fun of your autism).

He just finds your difficulty with grasping his sarcastic humor too good an opportunity to not poke fun at.

Can still come off as insensitive sometimes (it’s Gojo) but is trying his best. Just let him know when he’s said/done something to upset you and he’ll stop.

Sometimes when it’s just you two, he’ll listen to you explain your current special interests.

Imagine him listening to you talk about your favorite show on the phone while fighting a special grade curse.

“Mmhmm, yeah? Hold on a sec y/n.” He finishes killing off the giant curse in front of him. “Sorry about that, you were saying?”

He knows what it’s like to be easily overstimulated since his six eyes enhance all his senses. He also gets migraines a lot because of it, just like you.

If you have/had a Digimon hyper fixation, you’re his #1 student now. He will test you on your Digimon knowledge. You’ll both get lost in back-and-forth conversations about the lore, show, and games. If he deems you a worthy fan, he’ll even let you play his old Digimon games.

The highest form of honor you could receive from him.

When you and your class are out in town and enter a crowded area, if you feel extremely overwhelmed, Gojo will teleport you out of there to a place with less people.

Either that or he’ll grab you and turn on his infinity, giving you space from the bumping crowd of bodies around you.

If you’re going through a burnout and need to be away from people for a bit, he’ll understand and probably leave a candy outside your door.

He knows you need extra help and accommodations with your disability, but he never treats you differently from his other students and knows you’re tough enough to handle whatever’s thrown at you.

You are a sorcerer, after all.

He wants to guide the next generation of stronger sorcerers where no one gets left behind, including those like you.

“Gojo-sensei, why are you staring at that corner?”

“Just trying to figure out why you’re always staring at it during class. What makes it more interesting than me?”

“Sensei!!”

:))

Nanami Kento 🥖

He also quickly notices your autism and makes sure you feel comfortable unmasking around him.

He does NOT tolerate discrimination/unfair treatment of any kind towards people based on their disabilities.

I imagine one of his coworkers at his old accounting job was on the spectrum and understood how challenging it could be for them. So he would try to help them however he could.

Because of this, he has more personal experience under his belt to better understand how to work with you.

He thinks it’s shit how a lot of society and the education system (both in and out of jujutsu society) are so unaccommodating to people with physical/mental health needs.

If you have a hyper fixation with bread and/or cooking, he’ll gladly listen to you talk about it however long you want while donning his usual stoic expression.

Don’t worry, he’s not bored or annoyed. As a fellow culinary lover himself, he’s genuinely interested in listening to you talk and will engage in the conversation.

The way you enthusiastically talk about your interests reminds him a bit of Haibara.

He admires your attention to detail and strong sense of empathy towards people, animals, and inanimate objects.

His low voice is very calming to you.

If you follow a specific schedule and/or organized, he’ll admire that too since he also hates falling behind schedule.

If you are spacing out during an important briefing about a mission, he’ll say your name to get your attention or gently pat your shoulder.

“L/n-san…”

“Oh, sorry!”

“That’s alright. Do you want me to repeat what I just said?”

If you’re in a dissociative episode, he’ll calmly ask you what’s bothering you and help you work through it however he can.

If you’re going through a burnout and need to be alone for a while, he’ll understand and give you as much space as you need.

He might knock on your door to give you a small packaged pastry. He hopes it helps.

He understands you may have some internalized ableism, so he makes sure to speak positively of your autism to help you build your confidence.

“L/n-san, why do you have a coat with you when it’s March?”

“Oh, well it was pretty cold this morning. And…well…it’s not anymore but…..”

“I see. That’s a rather smart decision on your part.”

“Really?”

“It means you’re always well prepared for anything. That’s an important skill to have as a sorcerer.”

“Thanks, Nanami-sensei.”

“………………….so can I try on your gogg—”

“No”

[genderqueerdykes]

I’m a short, plus size trans guy. I have a pretty hard time with masc clothing due to it not fitting right or at least not how I wish it did. Fem clothes usually fit how I want them to so I stick with them, plus skirts are fun and surprisingly help with the bottom dysphoria cause there’s no indent of where my dick should be like pants do, so I have 2 questions.

1: is it ok for me as a trans guy to still be upset when misgendered while wearing feminine clothing?

2: any advice on how to find masc clothes that fit properly on a fat and short guy?

hello there, thanks for taking the time to ask this! sorry for the delayed reply, but i hope you've been doing well in the mean time!

it is absolutely okay for you to be upset for being misgendered regardless of what clothing you're wearing; cisgender people get misgendered while wearing their preferred clothing, as well, many butch women get misgendered and called men when they are very much women who prefer to dress, act and look masculine. cisgender men often get misgendered if they choose to wear feminine clothing, or even men's clothing that's too "fruity". if cisgender people can get upset over this, you can too.

i feel like it's 200% impossible to know what a stranger's gender is just by looking at them and that as a society we would truly progress if we stopped assuming the genders of strangers by how they dress and avoid using gendered terms until that person reveals that information, if they so choose.

as for where to find clothing that would fit well, this one can be a bit tricky. i am tall and fat, i'm about 5' 8" and 280 lbs, so i unfortunately haven't much experience in the height department on that end, but i can tell you that wearing men's pants can be a bit tricky if you have wide hips. i have 48" hips and it can make wearing men's pants uncomfortable. if you haven't already, measure your hips (at their fullest point) and your inseam, which is the length from the crotch of your pants to the bottom of the pantleg. men's pants are sized by these two measurements, with the hip width being the first number and the inseam length being the second. my example for myself is that i wear 48x32 men's pants whenever i do buy them.

here's a guide on measuring your inseam:

here's a guide on men's clothing sizes (in both inches and centimeters) and how to measure yourself for different garments:

i will say that in the past i've thrifted most of my clothing. i'd like to be able to get to a place where i can buy myself some new clothes but up until this point most of my clothes have been thrifted. i will say if you live in a smaller area finding good clothing in plus sizes is a nightmare and you have my condolences. however i can suggest looking into men's fashion and seeing what styles you like to get an idea of what kinds of clothes you're looking for. before transitioning into buying clothes from the men's section you can always look to see if there are similar cuts of clothing (like cargo pants, for example) that are sold in the women's section for the sake of finding clothes that fit your proportions a little better at least until it's easier to figure out what size men's clothes fit you

most shirts and tops shouldn't be too much of an issue as they're made to be pretty loose fitting and don't conform to one's figure- if sleeves are too long they can be hemmed or rolled up, tails of shirts can be tucked into pants, etc. be very careful with button-up style shirts, these fit me so weird due to being intersex and i find that a lot of bigger people in general don't fit into them super well. they're not made for our proportions they just size up the shirts made for thin people and don't take into consideration how our bellies, chests and shoulders look.

button up shirts (when buttoned up, lol) can also make one's chest more prominent and create stress on the buttons that draw the eyes to the chest- i never button up these types of shirts and instead wear them open. this is a very masculine look, especially with a men's t-shirt underneath. this was my go-to in my early days of transition.

as for specific stores to look at, this will vary wildly depending on where you are in the world. i would recommend being highly cautious of buying mens' clothing from places online like Amazon, Temu, Wish, etc. that have a lot of China-based sellers, because often times you will see a 2XL+ garment and buy it thinking it will fit only to realize that that is Chinese sizing and therefore much smaller. shopping online for clothes while fat can be very hard, so i urge you to shop in person when possible

anyone have more concrete suggestions for this guy? i'm totally blanking on good suggestions of where to look for clothes.

good luck out there, stay safe, and take care of yourself. i hope you're able to find more clothing that helps you feel like yourself! thanks for stopping by

[coochiequeens]

Only an AGP would think miniskirts are part of a camping outfit.

17 May 2022

An Autogynephile in the Wild

"You are trapped in the wilderness with a man who won’t stop talking about his penis. This is not good. This is not normal."

Susi Quinn

“Atthe big spa in town, you have to shower naked,” says our guide, Helga, with some relish. “The tourists don’t like this, especially the American women, and sometimes they try to shower with their swimsuits on. Now, I’m a big lady, and I put on my deepest voice, and I bellowed at them to take their clothes off. You should have seen them scurry away!”

Helga and Jackie burst into raucous laughter. There are some polite chuckles from the men in the group. I say nothing and look away.

Helga is not a big lady. Helga is a tall, rugged man who has had his eyebrows plucked and his penis cut off. I don’t need to speculate about this with terfy prurience, or perform the fabled genital inspections, as he has told us all about his operation a great many times already. It’s day two of a wilderness expedition in Scandinavia, and we’re reliant for our safety on a man who will not shut up about the contents of his pants. I grit my teeth and give thanks once again that the group is small enough that we don’t have to share tents.

There are five of us on the trip—two youngish men so far removed from gender discourse that they don’t even recognize the trans flag; Jackie, an older lady full of Not Like The Other Girls energy; and Claire, a fellow fortysomething who hadn’t followed gender issues closely, but whose discomfort with the situation almost matched my own. All we were missing was a beardy bloke to tell us ladies what to think about the issue, and it would have been an almost perfect reflection of society in microcosm.

Iwasn’t quite sure what to make of Helga at first glance. He picked us up from the bus station wearing tight capris, a tight shirt, and a ponytail under a baseball cap, and I didn’t catch his name; was this some unfamiliar men’s Euro-fashion or was he trying to dress “as a woman?” Were those eyebrows just a bit too neat and unnatural? Is he wearing foundation or just sunblock? Regular moobs or the estrogen variety? Is he making that weird pouty face on purpose? I didn’t have to ponder for long; within about ten minutes, he had declared his identity as “a transgender woman” and started telling us about a local documentary that had been made about his bravery and unconventional life.

Quite likely he’d misinterpreted our scrutiny as a form of “Is that a man or a woman?”, that proverbial bad-faith question asked by homophobic grandparents in the 70s and 80s during Top of the Pops. His sex, though, was never in question; even Jackie, who tried her hardest to “validate” him at every turn, first greeted his appearance with “Oh, I was expecting a woman!”.

I made some quick calculations about the male/female numbers in the group, and set to worrying about what the sleeping arrangements might be, and whether I’d need to make a fuss. The travel company had promised we’d be sharing rooms on a “same-gender” basis—did they mean same-sex? I hadn’t even thought to check.

In the back of the minibus, the group made introductory small talk. Is this your first time in the country? Have you been on this type of adventure before? The two men were quiet and conventional; Claire was friendly and asked more questions than she answered; Jackie was talkative but mostly about herself. More than the rest of us, she looked the part of a rugged adventurer, and I was hoping she’d make a fun travel companion, but there was an edge to her conversation that gave me pause. As if her identity depended on being The Most Rugged Lady Adventurer In The Village, she always had to top our tales with a boast of her own. Only mine and Claire’s, of course. She deplored the existence of “women’s” outerwear, and was proud that she bought hers from the men’s section. She mocked Claire for needing to check in with her teenage son on the phone. Had Jackie been forty years younger, you can bet there would have been pronouns.

“Back at the camp, Helga has changed back into his miniskirt, which he wears around the campfire while cooking.”

She wasn’t the only one to keep talking about herself. During the long drive to our destination, Helga spent less time telling us about the sights and scenery than about himself, his life and his achievements. Not his genitals, not yet—those conversations would wait until we were a genuinely captive audience. For the moment, there were enough nuggets dropped for me to piece together a picture of almost textbook autogynephilia—there was an ex-wife somewhere, and a child or two that he’d ditched to follow his fetish; an ultra-macho hobby and an obsession with how he was perceived. A litany of dull, dull boasts, me me me me me. I looked at the blonde ponytail coming out the back of his baseball cap. Dollars to donuts there was a bald patch under there. He never took the cap off.

Helga’s adventure-guide credentials clearly hadn’t prepared him for some of the less rugged aspects of guiding, such as knowing the itinerary, communicating unexpected changes, or remembering that we needed to eat. Instead of the central hotel and restaurant meal we’d expected for our first night, we were eventually dropped off late at a remote self-catering lodge, petrol-station hotdogs in hand, to ponder the events of the day. The five guests gathered in the corridor to chat before we turned in; all of us had been on small-group trips before, and this one was unusually amateurish. And Helga himself? Awkward silences, awkward platitudes. We’d all been on enough small-group trips to know that it was a bad idea to alienate your companions by spouting political opinions; we were diplomatic and guarded. This was no time for terfing. Tiptoeing around the trans question, we gave him much more leeway for his failures than we otherwise would have; there was an eggshell brittleness to the topic, and nobody wanted to put a foot wrong.

The organisational failures continued well into the next day, but it was with great relief that we were eventually issued with a tent each, and there was no question of anyone being asked to share. As we packed up the last of our equipment, Helga reappeared, brandishing a small plastic bottle with a large hole cut into the side. This, he explained, was his homemade she-wee. If you make one yourself, remember to sand down the edges, or you might get a nasty cut in an unfortunate place, haha! We nodded politely, really not wanting the mental images. Why was he telling us this?

To reinforce how convenient this device was, he wandered a few yards away, turned his back, and made use of it. We hadn’t even left the depot yet; there was a real toilet just indoors, and there he was, pissing out in the open, with a flimsy excuse that stretched “plausible deniability” to its breaking point.

“Was he taking advantage of our isolation and dependency and general British politeness to override our obvious discomfort with the subject?”

Several strenuous hours later, we’d reached our campsite—beautiful, wild, bleak, and utterly, utterly remote. In other words, we were now a captive audience. Helga ramped up the trans talk almost immediately, dropping in references to his castration wherever he could manage it. Often this took the form of jolly anecdotes that we were clearly expected to laugh along with.

“Some old men were complaining about how women make all the drama, but I told them that all the drama in me was taken away with my balls!”

“The first time I wore a drysuit after the operation, I forgot I no longer had a penis, and when I unzipped my fly to pee and went to grab it, there was nothing to grab!”

“After my operation, the doctor told me that in some cultures, trans people were considered to be almost gods!”

He approached Claire, walking alone on the beach, and told her how, as a teen, he’d hated his penis so much he almost cut it off with a knife. Uh, good for you, I guess? How do you even respond to something like that? Why should anyone have to?

Early in the Trump administration, commentators had exhorted us to keep hold of our expectations of “normal,” so we would see how far from normal things had become. This trip had started strange and become stranger; I had to dredge out my memories of other tour leaders to realize how abnormal this behavior was. 

No other tour guide I could think of would have so much as mentioned their genitalia, not even once. They wouldn’t have told us all about any other medical treatment in such detail. They wouldn’t have pissed in front of the group. Nothing about this was normal. And yet nobody was saying anything. I wasn’t saying anything. Did Helga move in circles, online or off, where this topic was so normalized as to have become regular small talk? Or was he taking advantage of our isolation and dependency and general British politeness to override our obvious discomfort with the subject? To override it and even enjoy causing it? I felt grubby, all the time.

Look at what’s in front of you, don’t be distracted by the glitter. You are trapped in the wilderness with a man who won’t stop talking about his penis. This is not good. This is not normal.

Day 3. Jackie has now become openly hostile towards Claire, with mean-girl behavior quite incongruous from a woman in her 60s. We find jellyfish washed up on the beach, which Claire deems rather upsetting and disgusting; Jackie picks one up and throws it at her, she and Helga squealing with laughter. And there it is again—dominance and power plays, using our discomfort to jostle for status and reinforce their own perceived superiority. Towards Helga, Jackie now affects a chummy gal-pal sycophancy, which Helga quite laps up. Except on the very frequent occasions when Jackie slips and calls him “he,” far more often than anyone else does, a hilarious Freudian slip which serves to illustrate which dynamic is really in play here.

Back at the camp, Helga has changed back into his miniskirt, which he wears around the campfire while cooking. The rest of us are still wearing the grubby hiking trousers and multiple woollen layers that we’ve been sleeping in for two nights. I can’t tell if he’s touched up his makeup again, but his performance of femininity still includes that peculiar expression that I noticed on the first day—a sort of wide-eyed, open-mouthed pout that is familiar from the many selfies and avatars I’ve seen in the trans regions of Twitter and Reddit. Is this what they think women look like? Do they think we also laugh alone at salad? He obviously missed the memo about how women don’t typically blow snot out of their noses into the bushes, or how we generally go behind a rock to piss. Even the men in the group go behind a rock to piss. Helga still just takes his she-wee a few yards away and turns his back.

In the evening, he gets us to watch the documentary he’d mentioned on the journey up. It’s on a small laptop screen, subtitled in English; we strain to read the captions. The adventurous scenery sections are thrilling and beautiful. The interspersed discussion of his life and his transition are not. In equal measure tawdry and uncomfortable, a string of family and friends pop up in well-worn talking-heads format to offer support, astonishment, bewilderment, praise, to a stirring stock-music soundtrack. It’s all very Lifestyle Channel.

“Do they think we also laugh alone at salad?”

I tick off my day-one assumptions as they are confirmed, one by one. Yep, there’s the bald patch. There’s the poor ex-wife, love-bombed into a quick marriage and then gaslit as he resumed his teenage obsessive crossdressing habit. The secret meetings with other crossdressing men. The eventual divorce, leaving her to raise their child—seems that his fantasies of womanhood didn’t include the boring babysitting parts. He was quite handsome as a man. No weird pout in those older shots. Onscreen, he complains bitterly about an extremely mild “misgendering” incident, and swears he will leave the country.

He wasn’t harassed in the incident, he wasn’t discriminated against, he wasn’t obstructed. He was merely observed to be male, and that was enough to provoke a tearful meltdown. As if we weren’t already walking on eggshells enough, monitoring our own language to avoid naming the obvious fact that we could all see! The sight of this burly man having an onscreen tantrum at his inability to control others’ perceptions… it was a reason to tread even more carefully.

Claire and I go to gather firewood; away from the group and out of earshot, she makes tentative reference to how strange this all is. I sense a proto-terf, let rip a full stream of gender-critical invective, and the relief is glorious. It’s like a touchstone for reality. She’s already been having her doubts about the ideology, and can recognize odd compulsive behavior from having a diagnosed OCD family member; we compare notes on the weirdness of the trip, and reassure each other that we are not imagining it, that our discomfort is merited, that this is really not normal. It was the trans widow in the documentary that really did it for her; we both feel for that poor woman.

Having a woman ally makes it so much more bearable, but also throws a harsh light on how we’re being used to validate the fetish of this penis-obsessed man. We vow to ditch the rest of the group as soon as we’re able and try to salvage some joy from this bizarre situation we’re currently trapped in.

“We’re being used to validate the fetish of this penis-obsessed man.”

On the final day, Claire and I manage to wangle a shortcut, and beat the group back to town by a few hours. In clean clothes at last, we find a restaurant, fill our faces with pizza and wine, and laugh, and laugh, and laugh. We spot Helga through the window, driving the minibus to a fast food place over the road, and we hide behind the curtains, peering at him through a gap, hoping he won’t spot us. Is he just getting hotdogs for the rest of the group again? No, he’s getting a kebab for himself, because he just seems to subsist on junk food and energy drinks. Where are the others? We don’t care. More wine please!

We befriend the waiter and a German documentary maker at the next table, and regale them with tales of how utterly strange our last few days have been. There are no taxis to take us back to the lodge, so the waiter flags down some boy-racer mates of his in a passing car, who give us a lift. They have a tampon dangling from the rear-view mirror. We stumble back to our rooms, still laughing.

The journey back to the capital is uneventful. Helga greets an old acquaintance at a gas station, and makes a point of telling us how they had previously met—apparently he had told her that he used to be a man (apropos of nothing?), and she had been ever so surprised, much to his delight. Cool story, bro. Just a couple more hours and we never have to hear about your penis ever again. At least this is one holiday where going home is less of a wrench than a relief.

Back home, I’m still walking on those eggshells. My friends hear a heavily redacted version of the tale, where Helga is merely a creepy bloke and an incompetent tour guide. The power of pronouns becomes very apparent—consider the vastly different threat perceptions between “she kept talking about her genitals” and “he kept talking about his.” My friends are in the “be kind” camp, and would have attempted the mental gymnastics to frame this as a strange but harmless woman.

“But what did he say about his penis, exactly?”

“Oh, you know, just finding excuses to mention it all the time…”

I think about how we feminists are popularly assumed to hate trans people, to treat them far worse than we would “cis” men. And yet here I am, playing down my deeply uncomfortable experience, hiding Helga’s trans status in my anecdotes, and watching an entire tour group allow him to get away with dangerously unprofessional behavior on that basis. Even when I wrote a complaint to the company, the penis-talk was only a footnote beside his other incompetencies, rather than the front-and-centre issue it would have been from a regular man.

I think about Grace Lavery, about Owen Hurcum—these men who spend a vastly disproportionate time talking about their parts. I think about the power dynamic, of how Helga used us as a captive audience to talk about and demonstrate his castration fetish, ostentatiously brandishing that she-wee. I think about Jackie, cosying up to the man with the power and pretending to validate his delusions to gain a share of that status for herself. I think about the pall this cast on my first holiday since a year and a half of lockdowns. But mostly I think about how Claire and I escaped, our drunken pizza escapades, and the joy of making a female-only space to laugh about the whole ridiculous business.

4W provides paid writing work for over 50 women in countries spanning the globe. This work is made possible thanks to your support on Patreon.

I think I would rather live through an episode of “These Woods are Haunted” than this. Cheap shots aside how many articles like this have to be written before gender cult allies accept that people don’t hit peak trans because J K Rowling said sex is real. We hit peak trans because we see this behavior in trans people in person and the community doesn’t want to acknowledge that they have a problem from within.

[animehouse-moe]

Skip and Loafer Episode 2: Fidgeting and Wandering

Where to start, where to start indeed. This second episode is where Skip and Loafer begins to spread its wings. It establishes the friend group in more concrete terms, it injects real high school struggle into both Mitsumi as a character and the friend group at large, and gives hints as to where the story wants to go. With the wonderful direction (all forms: art, main, etc. etc.) and voice acting, even though it's only two episodes in, Skip and Loafer is finding ways to begin to set up shop as a classic RomCom/Slice of Life. Though I guess you're asking what really makes it so good.

So let's start with the pieces that stand out to me the most. Gender identity and sexuality. Mitsumi affectionately calls her aunt Nao-chan, and they have a really fun and cute relationship as they live together in Tokyo. But that doesn't stop other people from souring it. Whether or not it's true (of which I'll refrain from commenting on), some girls on the train mistake Nao-chan to be a man. It's certainly a painful scene, and the direction adds to it a great deal.

Focusing on all the parts that clearly define Nao-chan as a woman, there remains one barely notable feature to their neck that the girls latch onto. Nao-Chan paints her nails, she wears jewelry and makeup, and even has a decidedly feminine hairstyle. But because of one aspect, a pair of girls end up singling out Nao-Chan

In the end though, all it takes is Mitsumi's odd smile to bring Nao-Chan back. It's a really heartwarming moment, and the layouts for all of it are just incredible.

In a similar story we get introduced to a new character today, Kanechika, the president of the drama club. He's going around trying to recruit as many people as possible for his club as they've been having a real hard time with getting girls to sign up for the club. Because of that, we get some really wonderful expectation subversion, and some really powerful commentary without even speaking a word.

A pair of high heels emerges from the hallway, and we can see the band-aids sticking out from them.

But these heels don't belong to a girl, they belong to Kanechika of the drama club.

The importance of this scene is twofold. Firstly, the expectation subversion of Kanechika being a man, even though the heels were shown first. And secondly, the fact that there are band-aids on his feet.

So, the expectation subversion. Skip and Loafer is already leaning heavily into expression of gender and sexuality in very free terms which is wonderful. With Tanechika, we're shown that "feminine" things aren't just relegated to only women wearing them, and that they don't even need to be a part of a more feminine-appearing style. By nature, clothing and other fashion items are gender neutral. Alongside that, Kanechika is provided as a perfect vehicle for displaying the harsh and even cruel style and fashion norms applied to women. Just because of the type of shoes he's wearing, he has to have band-aids on his feet.

It's a really incredible little piece that does almost no talking, but speaks volumes about the approach that the author wants with the story.

Overall, I'd say it's something that's spoken to in the episode in general, and goes on to surpass even gender and sexuality norms and their standards in society. If I were to put a description to it, I'd say it's an episode about the unspoken sides of people, and how it affects them when voiced by others.

Like Mitsumi being forced to be aware of her more shy side, and how she comes from a small town despite wanting to come to Tokyo and take in the big city. Or Shima's piece about his relation to "Kanade". It all represents pieces of the characters that they want to let go of, but those around them won't let them be free of what they might see as a curse that stains their history.

It's a really wonderful extension of that vibe that the first episode gave off. These characters are larger than life, but their emotions, their histories, their fears, it's all so human.

Well, now that that bow has been neatly tied on how outstanding the episode is in terms of story and character progression. How about a quick roundup before some technical stuff?

I really liked that they found a natural way to instill drama and an objective in the story outside of "small town girl making it in the big city". The drama club seems to be the piece that ties it all together, as it allows Mitsumi to push past some of her (sort of) fears and concerns, as well as establish a very important piece to a younger character: freedom and malleability. Mitsumi has it set in her heart to be a government official when she grows up, and you can already see that it stunts her freedom and enjoyment of being a high school student. With that in mind, I'm hopeful to see some exploration of Mitsumi's other sides that she was unable to express in her smaller setting, and that they'll blossom within her new environment.

In the same vein we'll also have Shima, who seems to have been a somewhat popular actor when he was younger. Running away from the spotlight for reasons unknown (though not exactly hard to potentially guess at). Given his affinity for Mitsumi, I'm sure we'll see some wonderful moments with him as he rediscovers his passion for drama, and how he'll be able to push past whatever is blocking him to allow him to enjoy his life to its fullest and take part in the things he's passionate about.

Phew, alright. Technical stuff! I'm a massive fan of directors that are bold enough to take wide shots in series. It removes the viewer from the character more, and gives a far more "outside" look than what some might be used to. But I feel like it puts just the right amount of distance in between to allow people to think somewhat differently about the characters.

As well as that, Deai's use of wide and empty shots helps illustrate how alone some of the characters can end up feeling, though in different ways. We've got a few wide shots of Mitsumi, but in sort of different fashion. The first is all about her isolation from the friend group, so while it expresses the emptiness of the scene, it also has a cramped feel thanks to the environment. Probably not intentional, but it makes it feel more suffocating, especially compared to the other example.

Though I think the icing on the cake is the fact that Mitsumi's friend, Fumi, being outside and in wide open space helps sell that cramped feeling even more.

However, this next shot of Mitsumi is outside, so the feeling (once more, probably unintentional) is of a wider and freer stage. It feels more like Mitsumi's left to think on things on her own than it is that she's isolated herself in the moment. Though her body language speaks to that quite well, as she has a stronger and more upright posture here than in the prior image where she's more sullen and shrunken.

Either way, the acknowledgement of space and scale is very apparent in this episode, and it's really great. It's easy to forget about where the characters are since most series end up zoned in on them, but here we get plenty of space to keep their existences relatively small and within the boundaries of how "big" high school can feel to the average person.

If I were to pick my favorite bits of this use of awareness and scale, it would be the hallway/pavilion scene of Shima and Mitsumi for sure. They use the difference in height between the pair to imply how Mitsumi looks up to Shima, and include some of shots of Shima's back. A bit of a two-in-one, it's callback to how Shima was inspired by Mitsumi on the first day of school and was chasing her, and now we have the inverse as true where Mitsumi is trying to catch up to Shima. Though the sentiment is different between the renditions, the former is Mitsumi going off on her own and Shima chasing after, while the latter is Shima leaving Mitsumi behind while Mitsumi is trying to keep pace with Shima.

There's a world of other stuff out there in the episode, like the flashback pieces and how it frames Mitsumi's approach to friendship and understanding people, or how organic the process of high school friendship and camaraderie is shown to be through indirect interactions, or even how cute and natural Shima and Mitsumi are together as they play the role of sunshine in each other's lives. But I think this is a good place to call it.

Skip and Loafer really is selling itself incredibly well on all fronts already though. P.A Works was probably nobody's (aside from fans of Akiba Maid War) top choice for this adaptation, but they've proven a great deal within such a short period of time. Really incredible work on both ends, and I can't wait for the next episode!

[torchickentacos]

Here’s why activism is so exhausting, in my own opinion. Be it for disabled people, queer people, poc, discriminated religious groups (especially ethic ones), et cetera. It’s not just activism because we want to make a difference.

It’s activism because our lives depend on it. We have no choice. We cannot just stop it once we get fatigued or once it’s emotionally too exhausting. It’s constant. It’s a state of being.

It’s not some moral high ground. We aren’t just politically active good people. It isn’t out of the goodness of our hearts, though of course all of that can play into it. It’s because if we don’t stand up for ourselves and make our issues heard, then who will? Certainly not our politicians (unless we’re loud enough for them to hear).

If I do not advocate for myself, I am at risk of being unable to function in today’s society. I need to advocate for the right to wear masks (which, YES, is something that people are against, not just a made up issue. People cite security issues). I’m at risk of being unable to move around public spaces because there’s no benches. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve sat on the ground in a Costco because making it to the food court is too far. I’m at risk of being unable to have life-saving procedures like abortion for complications if I ever were to get pregnant. This is WITHOUT me getting into queerness. This is without me being a poc or someone in a religous (ethno)group that is discriminated against.

If I don’t advocate for myself then the world will not seek to help me. It’s a matter of my own life. Advocacy and activism is a requirement, a form of self-sufficiency and survival. It isn’t just a fun little side gig to put on my instagram stories to show that I stand with women. It’s not a funky little hashtag. It’s “if I don’t be loud about this, if I don’t MAKE people hear, then nobody will make an effort to change this.” And of COURSE allyship is appreciated. This is NOT dunking on that. It’s merely pointing out that allies can step out of it once it gets too much, but we can’t.

[madamesmoke]

It's interesting how your own situation can influence how you perceive things.

That doesn't make your perception right or wrong, but it gives you perspective.

For example: I wasn't aware of the concept of Gender roles until I was in my teens. Gender roles just never mattered in my upbringing.

I was never told I couldn't do something because I was a girl. Or that I had to do something.

When I was 5ish, I started collecting these little trucks that liquor-brands use for advertising sometimes. All my moms friends got them for me when they saw them.

They where prominently displayed in our living room, along with my sister's ice hockey merch, our barbies and giant lego-bricks. I had a Truck in the same dark, pearlescent grey as my favorite skirt. Super thrilled about that one.

I grew up to my mom halving said living room with 4x4s, creating a framework that housed a cat tree, storage compartments and plants, creating a jungle like dining nook. (Somehow she made it renter friendly and recreated the process in every flat we ever lived in)

I think that my upbringing made it easier for me to find my own identity. Without the pressure to fit into arbitrary social molds, I could focus on my sense of self. This gives me a security that's irreplaceable.

We continue that type of upbringing with my nieces and nephew. I used to have a ladybug skirt that is the communal property of all three. So are all the books they ever got from me. I've seen all three of them wear that particular skirt several times in the past month alone. (Kinda impressed that the thing is still intact)

My oldest niece is 14 and the most aggressive soccer player I've ever seen. Does that stop her from being girly? Not at all.

My younger Niece (10) is obsessed with history. Topic of the moment are the napoleonic wars and the Prussian army in particular. She kinda disturbed her history teacher with her passionate rant about Corporal Friederike Krüger, one of the MANY women who joined the Prussian military service at the time.

My nephew (9) loves space, cooking and deadpool. Did some kids at school make fun of him? For a hot minute, then he asked them if they liked food. (They did)

I'm proud of them.

These kids meticulously explore their identities, without letting arbitrary "rules" dictate their paths.

Just like my sister and I before them, my mom and her sisters, my grandma and her siblings.

We continue to grow, as people, as a family and as a part of the society surrounding us.

We have only TWO Rules:

Do not harm yourself or anyone else

Ask for help if you need it.

How did my Niece learn so much about the Prussian military? I'm an archivist by trade. The Prussian State Archive gave some publications away for free when I was still learning. Kid basically inhaled the information.

[detransraichu]

might I just say I really like your energy lol. You seem like a very fun person to be around!

But I just popped into your inbox to thank you for this term you used in one of your posts a while back: "sexualities are agab-exclusive for the GRAND majority of people" It came up on my For You page and I think this is the PERFECT way to gently explain my views on sexuality to trans people. It's kind, not belittling and explains it perfectly! So thanks for writing that I will be using that

AWWW REALLY?! thank you sooo freaking much like THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT I WANNA DOOOO i really wanna treat these hard topics kindly and respectfully and use wording that won't offend either side too badly but also confront harmful things being said and done in the trans/radfem fights going on. it's truly in most part a battle around language. if afab & amab are terms that don't trigger ppl's dysphorias as badly as female & male, if saying agab will lead to actual conversations instead of sex, then i'm def gonna go with those. i never want to purposefully antagonize anyone that isn't a total jerk from the get-go. soooo many trans folks are very sweet and open-minded, not everyone is a bigot or a creep.

there's been an uptick in trans folks, especially transfems, shutting down any conversation that mentions same-agab/sex attraction and afab rights and it really need to be nipped in the bud asap. if transfems can call out shitty behavior from afab people and specifically use the term afab (often theyfab) then transmasc folks and bio women should 1000% also get to call out shitty behavior from transfems. and homosexuals *ESPECIALLY* should get to call out homophobia from opposite-agab attracted people. this is why we need language that is less likely to offend, and thus lead to knee-jerk reactions from the trans crowd. bc exclusively same-agab attracted people are a specific oppressed class, and only they get to speak abt their experience, and they have a right to their own sexuality. and exclusively opposite-sex attracted folks have a right to that too. it's fucking creepy when they try to make everyone bisexual, in the "attracted to both sexes/agabs" sense of the word and call them bigots if they don't, trying to get them to "unlearn" their sexuality

i believe that opposite-agab attracted people can function as someone in a gay relationship in society, if them and their partner pass as a man with a man, or a woman with a woman. but it's also conditional; if revealed, they will face what ppl see as typical transphobia instead of homophobia - transmascs will be seen as surgically altered women with beards, and transfems as men in a dress wearing a woman's costume. suddenly they aren't seen as gay anymore and aren't facing anti-gay hate, they're just straight crossdressers, and seen as weirdos for it. that's not what same-sex attracted people face; for us, our oppression isn't conditional. we've had historical oppression for hundreds of years specifically bc we're into people who were born with our same body type, aka sex/agab.

anyway, i'm rambling as always. but i'm SOOO glad i could help put it more into words for you!! i really am all about compromises w trans folks but they *NEED* to stop with the homophobic bullshit. exclusively same-agab attracted gays don't need to hear the same shit we get from conservatives from fake progressives. it sucks!!

[city-of-rain]

I recently got thrown down a research hole about the history of carding thanks to this post. So welcome to this little nerd rant, with stuff that I learned today, while sick and bored with Covid.

So I was wondering, how old is the word "carding" actually? Elizabeth Barber suggests that following the words is a helpful technique to get a hold of ancient textile production. "Words, as it happens, sometimes survive the millenia better than materials". This is what saja-star is talking about in their post as well. Material and ancient practices leave little, wonderful ghosts in our language and culture.

In my native language German the word I learned was "kardieren". But when I looked up this word in the academic dictionary dwds no search results could be found. I figured out later that it is apparently only the side form of the word "karden". But why is "kardieren" the much more popular form in the German craft community today? This is still a question that I need answers for...

Anyway, "karden" as well as the English "carding" is derived from the Latin noun "cardu(u)s". It means thistle. If we follow the word to even older language stages, we end up at the Proto-Indo-European word "*kars-" which means something around to scratch, scrape, rub, card. This seems to describe the properties of a thistle. But it could also describe the activities done with a thistle. So were thistles used for carding or fiber preparation during the Roman Empire?

Thistles are still used today in textile production. I remembered a museum visit with my parents one summer holiday in the alps. The museum had an exhibit on the fabric "Loden". Its a traditional woven fabric from the alps. The word used to describe coarse wollen fabrics. Now they are predominantly waulked as well. The thistles are used after waulking to rough up the surface (I looked this up. I didn't remember this from when I was a kid).

In what I could find, it seems that thistles are too fragile for fabric preparations. Their little teeth would break off, if you would use them for carding. They are now only used to work the surface of woven cloth. They are still used for that purpose though. They are even especially cultured thistle breeds for this purpose. The more you know...

In her book "Women's work: The first 20,000 years. Women, cloth, and society in early times" (it's an excellent book, as far as I got today. Highly recommend) Barber tells me, that carding was only invented (in Europe) during the middle ages. Before that, combing fibers was the most common method.

So the Romans probably did not card their wool with thistles. Were they only wearing worsted yarns? I have no answers to this question yet. What I assume is, that thistles were a common tool in textile production. They rub the fibers, take them out of their alignment, make them a bit more fuzzy and felt them. So when carding and cards were invented, they took this activity, which is remotely similar to carding, and named it similarly.

What do you think? Any experts and fun facts are very much welcome, as I can't stop thinking about it. I'm off reading "Women's work". Maybe I eventually make my way from prehistoric fabrics to the medieval invention of carding...

[chevaldez]

WEARING MAKEUP IS BECOME THE ESSENTIAL TOOL TO MAKE US GOOD IN SOCIAL SOCIETY EXPRESSION, MAKE UP IS A GIRLY THINGS THAT WE ALWAYS USING TO BOOST OUR CONFIDENCE AND TO LOOK MORE ATTRACTIVE AND TO COVER OUR INSECURITIES, SOMETIMES THEY'RE USING MAKEUP TO COVER THEIR INSECURITIES BECAUSE THE WORLD IS SO CRUEL THEY'RE ALWAYS JUDGING THE GIRL WHO ALWAYS WEARING MAKEUP BUT THEY ALWAYS JUDGING THE GIRL THAT NOT HAVING A PRETTY FACE TOO BUT IN OUR GENERATION MAKE UP IS CAN TRANSFORM THE GIRL WHO WAS HAVING A INSECURITIES TO BE THE GIRL CONFIDENCE ABOUT HER LOOK MAKEUP IS THE ESSENTIAL THAT WE ALWAYS USE TO LOOK PRETTY IN OUR OWN WAY AND TO LOOK MORE CONFIDENCE ABOUT OUR OWN LOOK OR WAY.

WEARING MAKE-UP IS NOT A PROBLEM WHY? CAUSE IT'S FUN TO USE MAKEUP BECAUSE MAKE UP IS CAN HELP OUR SELF CONFIDENCE AND WE OUR WEARING MAKEUP UP TO INFLUENCE THE OTHERS THAT WEARING MAKEUP IS NOT A PROBLEM THE PEOPLE EXPRESSION IN OUR SOCIETY IS THE PROBLEM BECAUSE THEY THINK WEARING MAKE-UP IS A BAD THING BECAUSE THEY'RE INSECURE ABOUT YOUR LOOK BECAUSE YOU LOOK BETTER THAN THE OTHERS WITH OR WITHOUT MAKEUP YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL AT YOUR OWN WAY!! MAKEUP IS JUST THE GIRLY THINGS WE ARE USING TO MAKE US LOOK MORE ATTRACTIVE AND BEAUTIFUL BUT ALWAYS REMEMBER YOU'RE ALWAYS BEAUTIFUL WITHOUT MAKEUP.

WHY DO I LOVE MAKEUP?

I LOVE MAKEUP BECAUSE IT HELPS ME TO COVER MY INSECURITIES AND BOOST MY CONFIDENT AND AT MY FREE TIME I'M ALWAYS DOING MY MAKEUP AND TAKE A PICTURE OF IT TO POST IT ON MY SOCIAL MEDIA ACCOUNT AND AT THE SIMPLE WAY OF WEARING MAKE-UP IT HELP MY SELF CONFIDENCE TO BOOST BUT THE OTHERS GIRLS SAID YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL WITHOUT MAKEUP YOU DON'T NEED ANY MAKEUP AT YOUR FACE YOU LOOK MORE BETTER WITHOUT IT I LOVE OTHER GIRL COMPLIMENT MY LOOK WITH OR WITHOUT MAKEUP, I HOPE THE WORLD IS NOT CRUEL I HOPE THEY SUPPORT THE WOMEN THAT WEAR MAKEUP DON'T JUDGE THEM JUST BECAUSE THEY'RE USING MAKEUP ALWAYS THINK ABOUT THE WORD YOU WILL SAY BEFORE YOU WILL INSULT THEM ABOUT WEARING MAKEUP

REMINDER!!

DON'T INSULT THE PEOPLE THAT WEARING MAKEUP BECAUSE WHAT IF THEY'RE WEARING MAKEUP TO COVER THEIR INSECURITIES, DON'T MAKE FUN OF THEM BECAUSE THEY'RE HAVING A MAKE UP ON THEIR FACE INSTEAD OF MAKE FUN OF THEM BOOST THEIR CONFIDENCE AND COMPLIMENT THEM AND ALWAYS REMEMBER THAT IF YOU FEEL INSECURE ABOUT YOUR LOOK TRY TO BOOST YOUR SELF CONFIDENCE DON'T THINK ABOUT THE OTHERS WILL SAY TO YOU ALWAYS REMEMBER THAT YOU DON'T NEED ANYTHING AT YOUR FACE BECAUSE YOU LOOK MORE BETTER AT YOUR OWN WAY.

AND ALSO REMINDER OF GIRLIES OUT THERE THAT ALWAYS MAKING FUN OF THE OTHER GIRLS BECAUSE OF WEARING MAKEUP WAKEUP GIRL BE MATURE ENOUGH INSTEAD OF MAKE FUN OF THEM BOOST THEIR CONFIDENCE AND KNOW YOUR LIMITATION STOP BEING INSECURE ABOUT THEIR LOOK THERE'S NOTHING FUNNY ABOUT WEARING MAKE UP.

[alwek]

I always get a bit existential after doing my usual "bait terfs into fighting me" thing. Which is part of why I do it. It gets me thinking, am I right? Am i being the shit head here? But then someone calls me a rapist for saying people should be treated equally, and I know I'm not.

But that leads me to think, how the fuck did they end up like that? Who hurt them so much that they think saying "kill all men" makes you a good person? I used to think it was ironic but hearing it so much every time i do this, I don't think so. It's sad, really, that they could be tricked into hating half the world. I wish i could do more, i say knowing full well i will do this exact thing again. It's fun to make them look terrible. But still, a part of me always wants to DM at least one of them, and really try to talk about all that shit, get to the bottom of it. Only thing is every time i try to challenge them a bit I get blocked or it turns hostile. It's a shame, really, how little people believe they can change things these days. A permeating feeling of hopelessness surrounds the entire ideology. Hell, it surrounds most of them these days. I understand it. Watching your people get fucked over and killed for trying to live respectfully, it's enough to drive anyone to rage. And well, I do agree that some people need to be killed to fix things, but it's not anyone on this webbed site. That I know of, anyway. All the death threats both sides send while we fight the same fucking fight. It's like everyone became blind that we're all of the same ilk. I blame capitalism pushing us to seperate ourselves endlessly. The more groups we have, the more money can be made. Keep them apart the money keeps going.

But yeah,

All people should be equal, and those who currently aren't, need to fight to be, and those that are need to fight to get them there. We all live in society, and therefore it can't be changed by only half of it. Teamwork, fuck.

You say we don't believe the same thing? The root of BOTH our sides is "women are oppressed and it needs to stop." And yet even when I say that terfs will still find a way to make me the bad guy for saying that. My new example from this? "That's not real feminism". It's like saying the queer movement never happened. You twisted and mutilated what it was into a hate filled unrecognizable shell of its former glory and stand.

We should all be equal. "I want liberation!" You realize that being equal means you'll be liberated right? You say it's not fair men get all the stuff then complain to people when they say you'll get that stuff once equality is had, like, come on, how do you not hear yourself? I keep saying "hey, idiot, we want literally the same thing, why are you attacking me?" It doesn't make sense. I want it to. That's me though.

But yeah, everyone should be equal. When you show me an article about a person that got away with rape and ask me "what's the rapists gender?" Do you really expect me to just ignore that you said a rapist got away with rape? Who fucking cares about the gender, that's fucked up they got away with it!

You cone at me with childish insults about genitalia then when I lean into it im the pervert after you were the one going off about a penis you never have or will see? Why are y'all so focused on genitals? I just want to be able to piss somewhere where I don't have to be afraid of being followed into THE CORRECT bathroom by some fucking asshat that doesn't like how I present.

I want to be able to go out in public wearing clothes i feel happy in, presenting in a way that doesn't make me feel like I'm holding everything i am back for the sake of eyes i don't give a shit about. Shame those eyes would kill me if given the opportunity.

It always comes back to "but you white man" as if I'm both white and a man. You're jumping to racist sexist stereotypes to try and justify your attacking of someone who hasn't bothered a soul. I'm a non binary indigenous person and yet every time I do this, I get accused of being a white man, and you think that's not racist? You're assuming the race of someone because you disagree with them. That's racist. You're telling me I'm worthless because of how I was born. That's sexist. It's sad.

But yeah, we should all be equal. We should all be able to feel some sense of safety where we live. We should all have food in our bellies, water in our cups, roofs over our heads. We have everything we need for people to be happy and comfortable and thrive, but SOMETHING tricked everyone into fighting each other over the cause. Personally i think it's patriarchal based capitalism that's fucked everything. It successfully made us think that being different makes us bad. Being different is what makes us good.

Everyone should be treated equally. Everyone should get kindness first, and treated as they continue to treat others. The individual who commits atrocities should be punished not all that take part in the same group. We are individuals. We are all the same because of it. We are all equal because of it.

Everyone should be treated equally. Gender isn't real. Genitals don't matter. Do what you want if you ain't hurting anyone that don't want it. Be kind. Treat others as they continue to treat you.

Power in anger. Victory in wisdom.

All are equal. We are all but earthlings. Human, suffering together. Why should we continue to suffer? Let's work together about it

[sparklinpixiedust]

Came across a tiktok about a girl upset over the constant questioning and passive bullying about her attire.

Okay so for context , she was invited to a workout session by another influencer.

Instead of a sports bra and shorts she wore tights and a oversized hoodie , which as far as I can tell was not against any rules.

She spent the whole time being asked by other girls if she's hot or she's burning in there, with the influencer who invited her calling her a f***ing psycho for dressing like that.

If you wanna feel that, imagine going somewhere feeling cute and confident and happy about yourself and your outfit and then having everyone question you and call you psycho for your choice.

I'm sorry, where is the " my body my choice " gang now? And the irony that this influencer advocates for mental health and kindness👀

I know I've said this a million times , but feminism seems to only cater to white women and their choice.

It's not " my body ,my choice "

It's "my body , my choice , as long as white women approve it "

Its always " let women wear what they want " unless they want to cover up. Then all yall go into this weird mean girl vibe which quite frankly I don't understand.

Look I'm not hating on white women , I'm you're all nice people. But why do we have to have you all decide what should be acceptable in society and what shouldn't?

Honestly what is your problem letting women wear what makes them happy? If they want to dress modestly ummm how about you let them?

Everyone has their own preference, and pretty sure a 20 + woman is highly capable of making that decision on her own.

Stop it.

And stop coming at Muslims for their choice to cover up. Every culture and religion has their own specific clothing. India has Saris, Pakistan has salwars etc etc.

Just Google random countries and their clothes and surprise surprise you'll find that their original clothing style is not a jeans and t shirt.

" but but I don't see other people wearing traditional clothes?"

Well gee idk , maybe if you didn't bully and make fun of them for their choice in clothing / food/hair they wouldn't be so afraid of your scrutiny and actually accept their ancestral roots.

We don't need you to " save us". Lol , save us from our own heritage, what a joke.

Btw, and the constant shaming with the whole " little house on the prairie" dresses. Excuse me ?

Why are you shaming those clothes and the people who choose to wear them?

If you don't want to wear them , then here's an idea , don't?

Why are you shaming others though ?

You think this bullying makes you some progressive woman of the future? Lol it makes you no better than the ones who harass you about your style.

Wear what you want and let's others wear what they want.

If someone wants to change, they will without your "help"

[mademoisellehypergamy]

✨ CREATING A PERSONA FOR HYPERGAMY & SOCIAL CLIMBING  ✨

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

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

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

STEP 0 - WHY YOU SHOULD ADOPT A PERSONA

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

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

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

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

STEP 1 - CHOOSE & CREATE YOUR PERSONA

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

STEP 2 - BRING HER TO LIFE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

STEP 3 - YOUR PERSONA WHILE DATING HYPERGAMOUSLY & SOCIAL CLIMBING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Follow my IG for more: @mademoisellehypergamy

[musical-shit-show]

could have danced all night

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader Inspiration: Prompts #2 (“apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.”) #14 (“when i’m not with you, it’s almost like…i can’t breathe.”) and #41 (“i may or may not have left some…marks.”) Warnings: sexual references, kissing, meddling siblings, fluffy fluff Word Count: 3,733 Author’s Note: This is my first request! Big shout out to @acmbooksandfilm​ for sending this in, I had a lot of fun writing it. Also, apologies on it taking a bit to get out, writing has gotten difficult as my real adult job has slowly turned my brain to mush. But, if you would still like to send in a request, feel free! My DMs and Askbox is always open, even though it may take a little longer to complete requests. And as always, check out my Masterlist, About Me page, and Prompt Lists. Thanks for all the love on my other one shots and enjoy!

“Colin, enough,” Benedict huffed as he threw on his shiny black tailcoat, “Surely you have better things to do than pester me about my love life.” Anthony, Benedict, and Colin often crossed paths when getting ready for the numerous events of the season, and now the younger Bridgerton brother was doing everything to get on his elder sibling’s last nerve.

“I’m merely pointing out the obvious, Benedict,” Colin said smugly, straightening his cravat as he looked at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t help but flash a mischievous smile at his reflection, “Practically everyone in the ton knows about you two, what’s the harm in proposing?”

“What on God’s green earth are you two talking about?” Anthony strode into the room, closing the door in the likely event that Colin said something inappropriate and scandalized one of their younger sisters or, heaven forbid, their mother.

Benedict couldn’t help but flush. Yes, he was close enough with his brothers to discuss all matters surrounding women, but it felt wrong for him to talk about you. Especially when your relationship wasn’t meant to be any sort of relationship whatsoever.

It had started out innocently enough; you had been close with his younger sister Eloise and Penelope Featherington for years, acting as surrogate older sister on account of you being several years older than them. You were also friendly with Daphne and Simon Bassett, and often had tea with the pair when they weren’t off performing their duties as the Duke and Duchess of Hastings.

In truth, you knew Benedict the least out of the Bridgertons who had or were close to coming of age, and was shocked when he requested to have his name written on your dance card at the first ball of the season. When it came time to dance, you had expected Benedict to act shy at first; but after some coaxing from you, he won you over almost instantly with his wit and humor.

He only asked to dance with you once more at that particular event, not wanting to be improper. However, it was clear from the way the two of you looked at each other that there was a spark.

“No one,” Benedict said, almost too quickly, “Our brother is just sticking his nose into affairs that aren’t his own, as usual.” Anthony rolled his eyes, thoroughly unamused by his younger siblings’ bickering. The three of them strode down the stairs of their home and seized a carriage so that the conversation could continue in private.

“So…” Colin drawled, “It is an affair, then?”

“You know that’s not what I meant at all.”

“A slip of the tongue, perhaps? You know, brother, you must choose your words more carefully—"

“Mark my words, Colin Bridgerton; I will kill you in this very carriage if—”

“Will the two of you, please,” Anthony huffed, feeling a migraine coming on, “Benedict, is this about who I think it is about…?” Colin nodded fervently, but Benedict remained stone-faced. He hated keeping things from his family, especially his brothers. But he couldn’t risk tarnishing your name, not after what had transpired between you two.

It wasn’t meant to happen. When Benedict had snuck off one night to another one of Sir Granville’s soirées, he was shocked to see you there, wearing a tightly-laced corset, undergarments, and practically nothing else. As soon as you saw him, your eyes widened to the size of your mother’s best teacup saucers. Without thinking, you grabbed him and pulled him into the nearest empty room.

“Benedict, wha—what are you doing here?!” he remembered you asking him, utterly flustered. His eyes drifted to the sheer robe draped over your shoulders, the fabric floating gently with your every movement.

“I could very well ask you the same question!” he attempted to whisper, now distracted by how your corset pushed up your bosom considerably, “How do you even know about these, um, parties?” For a moment, you hesitated, unsure of what to say as Benedict’s pale blue eyes bore into yours.

You sighed, resigning to come clean, “Genevieve—Madame Delacroix—she told me about them. I confided in her about my father’s money troubles,” you felt the tears start to well up, but could not bear to cry in front of Benedict in the state you found yourself in, “I barely have any money for a dowry to find a suitable husband, and Genevieve and Sir Granville are familiar so…I work when I can and just make the guests feel comfortable—you know, offer them drinks, tobacco, the like—but I provide nothing more than hospitality.”

You felt that you needed to make that distinction to Benedict. Though you suspected that any chance with him was gone now that he had discovered your secret, you wanted to at least maintain part of your reputation, “Granville is generous enough and I could not be more grateful,” you continued, pulling the nearly translucent robe tightly around your body, “And these parties are so secretive that I thought, perhaps, I could scrounge enough money together before the end of the season before I was discovered. Clearly not.”

You couldn’t help but laugh dryly, but Benedict stared at you, his expression earnest, “You need not worry about that,” he breathed, “I won’t tell a soul.” You absentmindedly bit your bottom lip, chewing nervously on a bit of broken skin. Could he really be trusted? Yes, you had crossed paths over the last few weeks, exchanging pleasantries and the occasional flirtatious glance, but would Benedict be able to keep your secret?

“Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton,” you replied coyly, deciding that you didn’t have a choice in the matter, “Perhaps I will be able to repay you one day.” A sly smile spread across Benedict’s face, his eyes flickering to the locked door. Though the party was continuing on the other side, you two had remained virtually undisturbed.

Feeling bold, he traced his fingers over your collarbone, instantly sending a chill down your spine, “Perhaps…you could repay me now?” he posited, trying his best not to sound like a complete and utter rake, “Only if you wish to, of course.” Despite your best efforts, you could feel a palpable spark that had been building between the two of you over the past few weeks. And you had grown tired of restraining your impulses any longer.

Gently, you placed a soft kiss on his lips. Your eyes fluttered shut and Benedict cupped your face with his hand, his grip surprisingly tender. His free arm wrapped around your body smoothly, pulling you flush against him. You frantically thought through the consequences of someone discovering you with a Bridgerton, but you were too preoccupied with removing Benedict’s clothing to pay much mind…

“Benedict!” Anthony snapped his younger brother out of his reverie as the carriage slowed to a stop, “Would you get your head out of the clouds and tell me what’s going on?” Benedict stared at him, utterly panic stricken. He had kept your secret for nearly a month now, and during that time the two of you had gotten even closer, both in the eyes of the ton and after nightfall in your bedchamber.

Benedict’s mind almost drifted to the night he had shared with you only hours before, but focused on the task at hand, “You needn’t worry your pretty little head, brother,” he said coolly, “I have it all under control.” Anthony looked as if he were going to be sick, and Colin smiled with devilish glee. The three brothers clamored out of the carriage and made their way into the bustling ballroom, more of their family trailing close behind.

Benedict could hear Eloise whine as Lady Bridgerton attempted to smooth down her hair, and he felt a small pang of guilt for not coming to his sister’s aid against their mother’s incessant prodding. But now, he had more pressing matters at hand; namely, what in the hell he was going to say to you now that his brothers were onto him.

He spotted you from across the hall, his heart fluttering with every step he took in your direction. He noticed that you were wearing an intricately laced shawl that was tied tightly across your chest, completely covering your collarbone and much of your breast. Benedict felt himself frown slightly, then immediately scold himself for being improper at a society function; surely, you need not show your bosom to the entire ton in order to draw the eye of him and a number of other suitors.

You were conversing with Penelope and Lady Featherington when he finally approached you, eyes wide with fear, “Hello,” he said politely, giving a slight nod to Penelope and her mother, “Is there a spot open for my name on your card?” You quirked an eyebrow, giving him a smirk as you removed the card from your wrist.

“Why of course, Mr. Bridgerton,” you replied in an equally cordial manner. Heaven forbid Portia Featherington get a whiff of your affair; you’d be certain your name would be splashed across Lady Whistledown’s pamphlet before you’d wake the next morning, “In fact, you are the first gentleman to ask, so you may have the first dance. If you are not otherwise engaged, that is.” He shook his head and his eyes gleamed as he returned your card to your delicately gloved hand.

Despite his anxiety being astronomically high, Benedict was delighted that he was able to dance with you so early in the evening. He always thought of you as a fluid dancer, light on your feet as the two of you would glide across the ballroom. He often found himself not being able to take his eyes off you, the lively music and judgmental crowd fading away the moment he embraced you.

More importantly, he wanted to speak to you about the precarious situation you found yourselves in. It was only a matter of time until either Anthony or Colin pried the truth out of him, and he wouldn’t let the news spread across all of London society, besmirching your good name. He cared about you too much to allow such a wretched thing to happen.  

A few moments later, all of the couples were signaled that the first dance was to begin. Benedict shot a glance to Colin, who had been talking Anthony’s ear off since they arrived. Now, the two of them were staring him down, whispering like schoolboys. He refrained from scoffing and instead took your hand gently, pulling you into his tall frame as the music began.

You instantly noticed the nervous and almost pained expression splashed across Benedict’s face, and you furrowed your brow in worry. However, you decided your best course of action was to try and alleviate the tension he must’ve been feeling, “I see you haven’t taken a liking to my shawl,” you remarked, a sly smile dancing on your lips, “I will have to tell my sister she has dreadful taste.”

Benedict ripped his eyes from his brothers’ stares and produced a small chuckle at your teasing. He realized he’d much rather converse with you than worry about what Anthony and Colin were up to, “No, it’s uh—it is, quite lovely,” he countered, lowering his voice, “Though I would prefer to see more of you, of course.” You raised an eyebrow, impressed by his boldness.

“I believe you saw plenty last night, Mr. Bridgerton,” you posited, weaponizing his own name against him, “In fact, I suppose you could blame yourself for my more…conservative attire, wouldn’t you agree?”

Benedict couldn’t help but flush, but cleared his throat to attempt to keep up with your rather scandalous banter, “Yes, well…I suppose…” he stuttered, “I may or may not have left some…marks.” He spun you, watching as your dress moved gracefully around your body and fluttered behind you as you gripped his arm once more.

You searched the panicked expression on his face. Surely, he only knew you were teasing, so why did he look like he was on the brink of sickness? “Benedict, why are you acting so strange?” you asked, attempting to keep the mood light while searching for information, “You’re not falling in love with me, are you?”

Benedict swallowed, attempting to maintain his composure. Besides the looming threat of every affluent family in Mayfair uncovering your secret, he was also painfully aware of how nervous you had been making him over the past weeks. The way your smile lit up every room, the way your eyes sparkled playfully, the way your laugh made his heart do a somersault.

“It’s just as well,” you continued, not waiting for him to answer your rhetorical question, “I overheard Colin and Pen whispering earlier, and Simon and Daphne as well. Apparently, all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.” He sighed, a little relieved that you had caught onto his family’s shenanigans before he worried you unnecessarily. He couldn’t help but appreciate your perceptive nature.

“Believe me, Colin and Daphne may be my siblings, but they are not my friends right now,” he joked nervously, only half-kidding, “And Anthony is on dangerously thin ice. It appears my family can’t help but get involved in matters that do not concern them.” You giggled, causing Benedict’s heart to swell. He was growing more infatuated with you by the second.

“I wish my family cared half as much as yours does,” you say, a twinge of sadness in your voice, “They are all so wonderful, and I’m sure they are just being protective.” Benedict nodded, heartened by the kindness and understanding you were showing to his siblings. You already got along quite well with Eloise and Daphne, and you were always courteous to his mother while still being able to hold your own when conversing with Anthony or Colin.

As the dance came to an end, Benedict had begun to realize his affection for you. Not just physically; yes, your first encounter at Sir Granville’s had brought you two together faster than he had ever expected. It was reckless, intimate, and completely wonderful, but getting to know you, without dozens of uppity members of high society leering at your every move, was more valuable than any nights you had spent together.

And he decided in that moment, as your hand released from his and you both bowed respectfully, that he could not bear to spend one more day without you by his side. But he could not profess his love in front of God and everyone, least of all his family; he quickly surmised that he must wait until a moment presented itself.

You were quickly whisked away by your mother, unable to even say a proper thank you and goodbye. But as your eyes met his blue ones, you couldn’t help but notice how they were sparkling in the candlelight, and you felt a twinge of melancholy. You cared for Benedict, but feared it was only a matter of time before your affair ended and he was married to another disgustingly wealthy aristocrat. You gave him a fleeting smile before getting dragged to the other side of the ballroom.

As you turned away from him, Benedict felt two hands grasping each of his arms, one hand belonging to each of his meddling brothers, “I knew it!” Colin whisper-yelled as he and Anthony pulled their love-struck sibling into a secluded corner of the lavish hall, “You know, you really aren’t fooling anyone, Ben.”

“How do you mean?” Benedict asked nervously in one last ditch effort to conceal the truth. He shouldn’t have bothered; his brothers had seen how smitten he was with you, and soon the entire ton would be abuzz with salacious gossip if he did not make his move that very evening.

“Benedict,” Anthony chided sternly, clapping him on the shoulder, “Please, do not deny it any longer. You’re clearly bewitched.” The eldest Bridgerton child could not help but smirk; it was almost entertaining to see his usually guarded brother so obviously in love.

Benedict sighed, defeated, “Alright,” he whispered, his face flush with embarrassment, “I apologize for thinking I could ever keep a secret from you two.” Colin smirked proudly, feeling as if he were London’s greatest detective, “I’ll tell you everything if you want, but for the love of Christ, it cannot be here.” He gestured to the room, which was growing more crowded with preening mamas, hunting for the slightest whiff of a scandal.

While Benedict and his brothers searched for a private room for him to regale your escapades, your night flew by, and hours later you found yourself chatting with Daphne and Simon on the gorgeously decorated outdoor terrace. The night was perfectly temperate, and although the noise had died down significantly as many guests had departed for the evening, your head was still swimming in thought. Specifically, you were overwhelmed by the thought of Benedict.

He was quite kind to you, and a very smart, charming gentleman, but you felt your heart lurch as you recalled the intimate nights you had shared over the last few weeks. Men of Benedict’s status would not wed a tainted woman, no matter how much you wished he would. It was only a matter of time before Lady Whistledown revealed your transgressions, and you would be marked as an undesirable to the entire upper echelon of society.

You shuddered at the thought. “Chilly, dear?” Daphne asked sweetly, noticing the unsettled look on your face, “I would think you’d be more protected from the elements with that beautiful shawl on.” Your heart jumped to your throat before you could cover for yourself; Benedict had appeared on the terrace, looking absolutely petrified. Simon and Daphne exchanged glances.

“Darling,” Simon said, turning to his wife, “It is quite crisp out here, don’t you think? Perhaps we should—”

“Go inside to warm up?” Daphne finished his sentence, that unmistakably mischievous glint in her eye that all Bridgerton children possessed, “Why yes, I think that is a fantastic idea, Simon.” She hooked her arm under her husband’s, and the two of them bid you and Benedict adieu, much to your dismay. You were certain he had been found out by his family and was here to end your affair before word reached the rest of the ton.

Still, you managed to smile politely. Simon was right, there was a slight chill that pervaded the terrace, mostly due to the lack of company that had populated the space only hours before, “Hello, Benedict,” you mutter, shifting your weight from one heeled foot to the other, “Will you be departing soon or—?”

“Erm, yes,” he answered a bit too quickly, and you raised an eyebrow. His strange behavior all night was another indicator that ending things was clearly as difficult for him to initiate as it would be for you to accept, “But first, I, well, I need to tell you something. Something I probably should have told you weeks ago.”

You felt a lump in your throat almost instantaneously. ‘Here it comes,’ you thought, more distressed than you hoped you would be. Benedict took your gloved hand, rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. If it were not slightly improper, you would almost find it comforting; his touch always seemed to soothe you, ever since your first night together.

“I never expected to…for us to become so close in such a short period of time,” he began, wondering at what point in this silly speech he would make a royal ass out of himself. Though he had gained a little brotherly insight from Anthony and Colin, he still felt as though he could vomit at any second, “And, well, truth be told, I have enjoyed every moment we have spent together.”

You smiled, pleased by his kind words, “Truthfully, I have felt the same,” you remarked, “But it’s quite alright, Ben, I understand—”

“You do?” he cut you off again, a bead of sweat forming on his brow, “Am I really so obvious about my affection for you?” You stared at him, confused. Was this not him ending whatever…relationship the two of you shared? Now you felt like the fool.

“Affection?” you repeated, your mouth twitching, “I thought you did not want to see me anymore.” Benedict’s eyes widened, and he couldn’t help but laugh dryly. You had mistaken his jittery behavior as a bad omen, when that could not be further from reality.

He shook his head, and you felt the pace of your heartbeat quicken, “My dear, I think there’s been a slight misunderstanding,” he joked, clearing his throat, “I know that our relationship has been a secret for some time, but I cannot hide how I feel for you any longer. You are kind, and witty, and strong, and incredibly adventurous, and when our dance came to an end earlier this evening, I…I felt like there was a part of me missing as soon as you left. I…when I’m not with you, it’s almost like…I can’t breathe.”

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, taken aback by his doting and earnest words. “And it would be my honor,” he smiled, his gaze intense and impassioned, “If I could ask for your hand.” Your eyes sparkled back at his, and you nodded silently, attempting to conceal a squeal of girlish glee. You two were still, unfortunately, in public.

“Yes,” you exhaled, feeling foolish from your assumptions about Benedict only minutes before, “I would be equally honored to be your wife, Benedict Bridgerton.” You snuck him a quick kiss on his cheek, causing him to flush for what was probably the hundredth time that night, “I see our friends were right after all, weren’t they?”

“Yes, yes they were, and I doubt I will ever hear the end of it from Anthony and Colin,” Benedict mused, smiling sweetly as the corners of his eyes crinkled happily, “I’ll see to a proper visit first thing tomorrow morning, I promise.” He studied you, doing all he could to absorb the joyous look etched upon your radiant face. You smirked, turning in the direction of your family’s carriage.

“I shall hold you to that,” you said, pulling him towards the exit, “But don’t think this night is over, Mr. Bridgerton. I’m not done with you quite yet.”

-----------

I hope you enjoyed reading! As always I would love to hear any comments or feedback! Like/comment/reblog, all that good stuff :)

[mistressemmedi]

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

Greetings from Miley Cyrus - phenomenal numbers.

The streams of Zitti e Buoni are growing by the second, and ahead of Muse, on the top of the English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. We almost tripled followers after Rotterdam (from 1.4 to 3.3 million, ed). Contagious and universal madness: T-shirts and merchandise sold out in 10 minutes. Like records, tickets for a tour that adds dates and expands on maps. They are even looking for us in festivals where the Rolling Stones have played. - Thomas

After the whole cocaine scandal that was started against us from France, which was later denied by my drug test, in Spain there people have been making murals with my face saying "No drugs". Some tweets made us laugh: «Congratulations, Italy! I have never been so sure that four people have fucked each other ". Miley Cyrus started following us. "You are great". “You are more” . - Damiano

From rags to riches - what a story

It was only 2016, and we were playing in restaurants, on the streets, in via del Corso (famous street in Rome). Damiano without a microphone, Thomas's guitar with broken strings, Ethan drummed on a cajón. At the occupations of the high schools in Rome (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first gigs and half an hour of fame, between those who criticized us and those who said "these guys are so cool". One of the rare times in which they offered to pay us to play - 50 euros each - we offered that money to those after us, in exchange for the chance to play during their time slow, as we knew there would have been a bigger crowd. We already understood then how it worked. That visibility was worth more than the money. We still think so ». - Victoria

The intimacy of rock - Choice of a genre

Music allows is this miracle which allows one to talk about very personal and private topics, even difficult and delicate ones. They are and remain deeply yours, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage which is like a delivery, they also find their place in you, their elaboration. They are overcome, they are accepted. One moment it feels aggressive, one moment later a (soft) ballad. It's very cathartic. - Damiano

Against panic - The stage as therapy

I have suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it is a problem that I have worked on thanks to a course of psychotherapy, to my friends and family. Playing has helped me not to let myself be paralyzed by my fears, not to be limited in my private and professional life. I have learned to accept, to live with this side of me. I don't hide it. I no longer feel ashamed. - Victoria

This belief that only crazy people go to the psychologist is widespread ignorance. Nobody is born learned. And it is often difficult to understand why we are here, let alone the derivation and direction of our desires. It is a long and legitimate journey towards one's clarity. - Damiano

Essere fuori di testa – Ma diversi da loro (Be out of your mind - But different from them)

Already feeling a strong passion for something that is not a 'regular' profession but an artistic language, it puts you on a level where you're an anomaly, and while you're neither superior nor inferior to others, it places you in the condition of what breaks the mold but you're also being at a loss, leaving it to you to be bold and to take risks, hoping that they will pay off and land you somewhere. "What good is it if you don't stand out on your own?". You want to give it an aesthetic to your artistic dream, but to others it boils down to " You dress differently! You must be gay! ”, I'm 22 now and it makes me laugh, but at 17 it had an effect on me too. - Damiano

The beauty of being unique - Of believing in that and defending it

After all, we are all different not because we want to be alternative but because really no one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty. - Ethan

Fluid sexuality - Pride is freedom

We appreciate heels on men, we kiss each other, we have an open, extended mind, and we are proud of it. The horizons become vast, beyond the oppression of conservative families. With information on the web, knowledge is enriched and with it the possibility that minorities will be fewer and fewer, because majorities will be fewer and fewer. This will lower the volume to insults and bullying. If social networks can reach a village of 50 souls to reveal to someone, who is afraid of the darkness, that someone has felt that same fear.. There is no longer the need to give it a name, to define that "something" to fear, to brand it with labels that only limit you. Definitions have always had this effect on me. Gender should not even be considered in a person's judgment. Let alone orientation ". - Victoria

Sexism - A culture to be dismantled

Emma (Italian singer) dropped the bomb:" When I went to Eurovision, they insulted me over a pair of shorts. Damiano - half naked and in heels - was never criticized ". The judgment against women is constant, ferocious, and demeaning (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool but Vic a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader she is domineering and pain in the ass, who is successful because only because of her looks [and not the hard work she puts in]). As a male I am privileged, the harassment I suffer is not comparable to that experienced by a woman, the comments on my aesthetics are focused only on my aesthetics and do not insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thinking in a systemic way. But I did find myself in a situation, out of nowhere, with someone who, pulling close to her for a selfie, started licking my face ... "What do you want, did you ask me?" Consent exists, and it is a must ». - Damiano

To grow as a person - The only rule to follow

For me, to conform is the total opposite of educating oneself, and the asphyxiation of one's expression (of freedom). Fortunately, I did not suffer heavy bullying, to the point where I felt I needed to change to adapt to how others saw me. But the matrix of who I am and the aggression that marks me is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and loves dolls, then allow me the freedom to do so. I used to be a kid who wanted long hair and played with Barbies. My friends, as a teenager, looked my long hair and teased me: "You have to find yourself a girl with a short hair to make up for it". My grandparents took the dolls away from me and said: “Stop it, they're not for you” ». - Ethan

“I was six and I already could not tolerate the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things typically defined as feminine as a child, and they made fun of me for skating, for playing soccer, for not wearing skirts, for giving myself the chance to be as I wanted to be. I suffered a little, as I was bullied, but I had courage to stay true to myself, and today thanks to that courage I know that I could have been much more hurt, or I would have risked leaving the most important decision to others: the one about being just me". - Victoria

Love - music and girlfriends

I've been married to music for the past 20 years. I cannot wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary. - Ethan

Everyone goes through their own experiences, sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, but it's never other people's business." - Thomas

When, for the first time, I developed feelings and attraction for a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage to go beyond the limitations I had imposed on myself. For society, being heterosexual is the norm and therefore often one automatically pegs himself in that way, giving up the freedom to experience many different shades and facets of love. Once I got over the initial insecurity of having to question one's own certainties, I lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone. - Victoria

I had paparazzi under my house morning and night. So, after four years of relationship, I finally revealed her name. I still have the paparazzi under my house morning and night, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore. - Damiano

The value of the group - Protecting each other

But the real relationship, the real family, is between us. Our band. We believed in it from the first day, even before calling ourselves Måneskin (moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon, on the poster for our first concert. We share everything, even the pain of the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because he was a victim of racism. Being a group is what we should all do together: stay united and not retreat in the slightest in the face of abuses generated by a distorted vision of someone "being different|. - Thomas

Non ho l’età – like Gigliola (It references Gigliola Cinquetti who won both Sanremo and Eurovision with her song "Non ho l’età" which translates to Not old enough)

Before us, the only one to win Sanremo and Eurovision together was Gigliola Cinquetti (in 1964). Is there is something for which I feel I am not yet old enough for? No, honestly no. Maybe for kids. I'll be honest, I'm not enough to be a dad. - Damiano

Reached the sky - What fears still remain

We are more than in the dream, we have conquered the dream. To fly high this high, there is the risk is to fall and get hurt, but we will try not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - somewhat presumptuously - reassures us rather than frighten us ". - Damiano

(ORIGINAL INTERVIEW IN ITALIAN)

[Please note that I have changed some words or structure sentence, trying to make it so that the interview made more sense lol - I skipped the first two paragraphs, which was basically the interviewer gushing over how pretty the band is lmao (relatable).

Any mistakes in the translation are sorely mine, nothing was proofread, so apologies in advance]

[levicanpunchme]

Levi X Y/N

Genre: Romance/Fluff/Modern AU

Warning: sexual references

Summary: You attend a business party with your boyfriend, Levi in hopes of introducing yourself but things turn hazy when a blonde idiot keeps staring at you. Levi’s burning anguish strikes.

Mine

The large dining hall was illuminated with yellow candles, creating a sophisticated atmosphere for the various honourable guests. The darkness of the hall suffocated you, making you clench onto your purse tighter. These high society parties were not your cup of tea; they made you uncomfortable. If you could, you’d never again breathe next to these oblivious, high nosed women who flaunted their lavished lifestyle which their husbands had earned after dirty business work. What was there to be so proud of-? You wondered. When they spoke to you, you heard the discreet arrogance in their tone and it made you want to scream.

You desperately avoided these events; however, this time, you wanted to formerly introduce yourself-after all your boyfriend was a well established businessman. He was required to attend such parties and ever since he told you about the women throwing themselves at him, you couldn’t help jump into an elegant dress and rush to join his side.

Your lips touching the rim of your glass paused when you caught sight of your raven haired boyfriend in a black suit, wearing a blank expression on his face as a domineering aura surrounded him. This was the first time you had asked to join him in such an event and you were kind-of-glad you did. He looked awfully attractive, his eyes forecasting a shadowy glow in the darkness of the hall. He was the centre of attention; not just because of his godly appearance but also his reputable character.

Levi Ackerman was the sole owner of X company, a name in the higher ups of the world’s largest food industry. His work ethics were widely praised all over the country and every businessman was desperate to earn an opportunity to work with him. His work ethics were a reflection of his character. He had started at the bottom of the chain and earned his way up, struggle after struggle.

You were so proud to call him yours.

“My husband wanted to donate to the local NGO and I was personally against it because we already do so much. We take part in various charitable events after all.” - for publicity, a voice completed in your head. You smiled to yourself at the hypocrisy of the rich brats.

You rolled your eyes, looking back at your boyfriend on the other table and you noticed he was already staring at you. His eyes carefully read your expression. He immediately realised your discomfort and rose from his seat, taking wide strides towards you. Your eyes widened when he grabbed your hand and tugged at you to stand up with him. The five ladies on the table quickly shut up as they softly greeted Levi, their voices growing coy and shy. They sounded so sweet as if they weren’t already married; it made you want to puke.

As Levi clasped his arm around your waist, he silently nodded at the ladies not even sparing them a glance as he walked away with you back to his table. You almost smirked back at the women but restrained yourself, knowing you couldn’t afford to trample over Levi’s reputation by falling into a childish girly scuffle.

“You have to pay me when we get home for saving your ass back there,” he softly whispered against your frame, causing goosebumps to awaken on your skin. You glanced at him and laughed at the dark glaze in his eyes.

“I didn’t need any saving,” you replied back, your challenging gaze daring him to say otherwise. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a soft smile on his lips and then whispered back. “We’ll see about that at home.”

Your stomach flipped.

Levi casually pulled you with him to his table and sat you down next to him. You stared, wide eyed. He was currently sitting around huge business tycoons, discussing future arrangements. You noticed the blonde man sitting opposite to Levi and froze up. He was the man Levi was bidding on for future collaborations as he was the second largest producer in food industry in the world.

“This is my girlfriend, Y/n L/n.” You didn’t realise when he introduced you and quickly sat up, smiling at the men as you greeted them.

“Oh, how wonderful! They say behind every successful man stands a woman,” one of the older men stated and Levi nodded firmly. “Indeed.” And you looked at Levi explicitly.

You felt a wave of emotions course through you and suddenly you wanted to kiss him. Levi was so hardworking. He had struggled for every opportunity in his career and deserved every ounce of the success he currently had. You wanted to throw away everything to make him happy.

“How beautiful,” you gazed away from your boyfriend to the origins of the voice and sat frigid. The blonde, thin-lipped man was staring at you with a strange glint in his eyes, a smirk uplifting his lips as he eyed you up and down.

“Are you currently studying?” the blonde man slurred, his British accent becoming more apparent now. You felt chills run down your spine as you noticed his eyes wander to your cleavage and it made you feel icky. You knew his intentions were dirty but it didn’t matter. You wouldn’t see him ever again after today. You never wanted anyone to stare at you like that. It made your insides crawl. It made you feel insignificant, demoralised and inferior.

You gulped and smiled indifferently. “Journalism,” you answered and looked away quickly. You noticed Levi’s hand clench tightly under the table and panic rippled in your chest. You quickly grabbed his hand, fear racking your head. Levi would singlehandedly destroy anyone who looked at you with nasty intentions and you knew that. You were a witness to it once when you were drunk after a university gathering and a man tried to take you home. Levi had stalked down the street and knocked the man’s front tooth out before safely taking you back to his place.

He was so full of anguish that he almost got the man kicked out of uni. Fortunately, you managed to stop him before things escalated.

“Levi,” you muttered, your mind going blank as you noticed the awakening demon in his eyes; his darkening predatory stare trained at the man, his mouth tightly shut and jaw clenched. You suddenly wanted to evaporate. You tried to appease him as you stroked his large hand, your soft skin gliding against his callous one. He reacted by gripping your hand tightly, holding it. He still didn’t spare you a glance and kept his drilling gaze trained at the man in front.

“Journalism? So you’re one of the smart ones.” His eyes were hazy and tone lousy due to heavy alcohol consumption. His eyes again feasted at your exposed skin and you shrunk into your chair, your heart clashing against your chest. You noticed the dead silence pinning the table as everyone felt the thick tension from Levi’s disgusted stare. Your hold on Levi’s hand grew tighter, forcing him to look at you.

“I’m fine, don’t do anything rash,” you whispered but it seemed like your plea went through him, unheard.

You realised that if the man said anything more, Levi would definitely charge at him. You had to get out of here before it was too late.

“Excuse me, I’m heading to the washroom,” you muttered and gave Levi’s hand another comforting squeeze before standing to leave. You didn’t look back as you hurried to the washrooms. You planned on spending the rest of the night in the lavatory since the party was just awfully disappointing.

You wanted to stand beside Levi but not under the current circumstances. The blonde smug idiot was the most influential in the field and you wanted to do nothing to sabotage your boyfriend’s future goals.

You locked yourself in one of the stalls and sat down annoyedly. It was supposed to be a fun night out with your boyfriend. You didn’t know a rich party full of influential businessmen was just a pathetic havoc wreaking battlefield. You mentally promised to never ask Levi to take you to another event. You annoyedly massaged your forehead in slow circles, hoping to ease the ache.

“Excuse me,” you heard a shrill voice call out as someone knocked from outside. You sat up alarmed.

“Yes?” You replied unsurely.

“I think your boyfriend is outside the washroom waiting for you.” You stood up, your eyes zeroing as you whipped the door open. A brunette haired woman stood before you. “You’re Levi Ackerman’s girlfriend, right? He asked me to check inside for you,” she told you, giggling and then stepped to the sink, resuming back to washing her hands.

You rushed for the door and abruptly pulled it open, stepping outside. As expected, Levi was stationed against the wall, his eyes already tracing yours, needy and impatient. He stepped towards you and pulled you close to him, his fingers grazing your exposed neckline and you heard him breath you in.

“We’re going home,” he whispered into your neck. You nodded hesitantly as he held your hand tightly and marched out to the hall. You almost gasped- as everyone was staring at you both, thick tension brewing in the air. It seemed like you were under spotlight. Levi’s gaze was unaffectedly cold as he stayed upright. Standing beside him was a privilege since Levi had a significant presence to mobilise the crowd to stop and stare.

But this was different. Everyone was whispering and murmuring among themselves as they stared at you horrified. You wondered what had happened for everyone to be so silent and meek around him. Your gaze fearfully swayed to the table where the blonde man had been and you were shell shocked when you noticed a heavy purple bruise under his eye. Your body grew cold as you looked at Levi shocked. He noticed your questioning gaze but only responded by pulling you closer to him.

When you both were out the premises, inside the car park, you pulled at his hold. “Levi, how could you attack a powerful businessman! Have you gone mad?” You gasped, finding it hard to comprehend. He didn’t answer you and kept his moderate pace towards the car.

“Levi, I’m talking to you!” You shrieked, your eyes growing large with anger. He finally halted in his tracks and turned towards you, his eyes burning with seething anger, his fists still clenched, a bluish bruise starting to form on his right fist.

“We need to get out of here before I do something worse,” he spat, his aggressive voice making your throat dry. You felt the frustration building in your chest and your eyes burned with tears.

“You’ve ruined a great opportunity! Do you think he’ll let this go? He won’t-!” You yelled, your head pounding as you felt desperate enough to cry out. “Levi, you’ve worked so hard for this,” you cried, your heart aching.

He was adamant on establishing himself. Never losing sight of his goals, he spent a year working on his startup. He earned investments after tirelessly sacrificing sleep and lunch, date nights and family dinners. You loved him so much, so much that you were always supportive. His absence made you so lonely yet you never complained; there were nights you wanted him to hold you, days you wanted him to listen to your grieving heart, but it was best to not bother him. You internally ached and slowly the ache started to disappear when he came back. After successfully earning a huge investment, everything changed. It was like his pot of love for you flooded and spilled everywhere, unable to be contained. He stopped working excessively. He became so clingy, so needy for your presence, it drove you insane- in a good way.

“Y/n, why’re you crying?” His stern voice caused your body to shrink, goosebumps awakening on your skin. His eyes were so thunderously dark, waves of anger rippling in his frame.

“Because!” You croaked, you sounded awfully hurt. “How could you ruin chances of growing this? After you’ve worked so hard for it!” You shouted, your face angry red with tears spilling out. You were so angry and frustrated that you wanted to physically beat someone.

Levi’s chest was heaving as he stared at you, his face pinning you down, holding you captive. “You care about my fucking business right now?” He sounded hurt as well, his raspy voice so quiet, you could tell he was boiling.

“Yes!” You cried. “You’ve wanted this so bad. After this deal, you would’ve been unbeatable Levi!” You threw your hands in despair, the frown on your face deepening. Levi’s body shook as he stepped closer and before you could register it, he had grabbed your wrist and slammed you to the car, his arms immediately protecting your anterior from pain. A loud clash was heard as he pinned you beneath him, his breathing heavy, his eyes glazed.

“I’ve worked so hard, day after day so you can stand next to me without shame. You deserve someone strong and I was so pathetic back then,” he stated, his eyes trained on yours as he truthfully uttered. Each word pained you more than you could imagine. Your heart began to break, tears rolling down your cheeks like a stream.

“How could I be with you, such a gorgeous, strong woman? I was unworthy and it made my blood boil.” His confession left you utterly speechless. “Hange said I should give you up. It’s an easy way out but the thought of that kept me up at night.” Hange was Levi’s best friend from college and now a dear friend of yours. You were completely unaware of these conversations.

“The fact that Hange even mentioned that made me sick. That night, I decided to be worthy of you. Because you’re mine. I can give up this whole world but never you,” he whispered and his mouth found your neck.

“W-why didn’t you ever tell me?” You contained your moans, crying out in pain and awe as Levi’s teeth dug in your collarbone. His tongue slickly traced the bite mark across the neckline as he tasted you to his fulfilment.

“Because you don’t need to care about it,” he rasped, his heavy pants taking over your head making you twitch and turn in his hold.

“I’ve achieved enough to protect you,” he whispered against your skin and dropped wet kisses down to your cleavage.

“I want to rip his filthy fucking eyes out for looking at you like that, y/n,” he roared, the bitterness returning; his eyes remained on yours, watching you throw your head back as he satiated his hunger. His kisses grew desperate, needy- his hand against your waist tightening as he pulled you into him.

Your body reacted on its own, curling into his hot frame. Everything felt hot: from the heavy breaths exhaled against your neck to the hand gripping your waist. Your face was probably on fire and you felt so dirty for letting him submit to his desires outside in a car-park where anyone could walk in and watch a show. But it also felt so euphoric, to have him desperately feasting on you that you couldn’t reject him.

Jealous Levi made your stomach pool.

“You’re only mine-how dare that fucking crook stare at you like that,” his words were cut off as he painfully dug his teeth into your breast, a gasp escaping from your mouth.

“Levi,” you breathed, your body aching like you had caught a fever. He heard you clear and your airy words turned him on more than ever because he started to push himself into you, kisses trailing into your chest.

You felt him. You almost screamed because he was so brutally turned on, you shook against his frame, your legs falling weak. He supported you as he held you tightly, digging his nose into your hair, inhaling your sweet scent.

You were so heated when you heard footsteps, a heel clicking against a marble floor. Even though, your ears heard the sounds loud and clear, your mind was elsewhere and refused to comprehend or react appropriately by pulling away. You knew you should-this is so embarrassing but you couldn’t get yourself to push Levi away.

You were pulled out of your trance when Levi jerked back, his gaze so pained and hazy. You swear you saw his limbs shake as his chest heaved, his body so rigid, afraid to move or he would fall to the ground. He clenched his fist determinedly and swore under his breath.

“Get in the car-no one sees you like this,” he commanded. You didn’t know what he meant but you obediently ran to the passenger seat and rushed inside, your heart clashing against your chest. In the rear view mirror, you saw yourself and immediately realised what your boyfriend meant. He didn’t want anyone to see you-your hair messy, eyes hooded with intense desperation, your face flushed and breathing heavy; you looked lustrous, so turned on and oozing of desire.

The next second, you heard Levi pull the door and get inside. His forehead was covered in a cast of sweat and his hair was now a mess as if he had run his fingers through the black strands.

“I can’t drive. I literally can’t feel my legs.”

You threw your head back, your frame wreaking with laughter. He glared at you, his eyes still brewing with desire.

“Shut up before I take you here,” he threatened and you quickly shut up. You knew him too well to know that he would actually comply. You gazed at him as he sat inhaling and exhaling, an exercise he sometimes used to recover.

After sitting for ten more painful minutes, he finally drove home and you had never seen him drive so fast. It was going to be a long, long, long night and you were going to enjoy every second of it with Levi.