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#but sometimes i like to look at how other people are doing things in case there's an even easier strategy for something i can incorporate
cy-lindric · 1 day
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I wanted to vent, but also ask an honest question. Since I was a teenager, I always wanted to work on character design. And one thing that always caught my attention was how I always preferred male character designs over female ones. My first thought was that I was always more into androgynous fashion and more masculine styles. But time passed and I came to the conclusion that it wasn't just that, and it seems that male characters can always be different things: fat, thin, handsome, ugly, short, tall, young, old, etc. and female characters, for the most part, fall into two categories: cute or sexy. I wanted some tips on how I can make female characters with more interesting designs, without having to fall into those two categories. I love your work and you managed to make someone else like the three musketeers <3<3
Hello ! That's definitely a good question and something I think about a lot. The bias towards beauty is very strong in character design and it takes a conscious effort to diversify output in that regard.
That sort of advice might be a bit obvious, but one habit I picked up from the director on my first feature film gig was to actually "cast" characters. Without reference, we tend to go for the kind of symmetrical face and "average" features mostly out of stylistic habit. I like to look at character actors with distinct faces (I like this pinterest page that has a lot of faces in one place) but also just acquaintances or pictures of random crowds.
When designing a character, at first I'm always building a big reference board trying to decide what Type of Guy (gender neutral) I'm going for, trying use photos rather than other people's art, because I want to rely on automatics and graphic symbols as little as possible. Whether I'm designing a man or a woman or other, I use references of fashion styles and people across the board in terms of gender so I keep the scope open. Sometimes a character ref board for me will be a picture of one of my aunts next to a bunch of screenshots of Columbo. In my experience, a lot of the times, it's mostly about going with styles and archetypes the same way you would for a male character, and switching it up somewhere along the way by looking at real women in your life and beyond as a grounding mechanism. Sometimes that will mean changing almost nothing, because the borders between genders and how you characterize them is blurry and fluid, and sometimes it will mean using features that are uniquely tied to some sort of female experience.
I enjoy realism and I think getting more proficient at it did help me diversify my designs (I find that more difficult to do with more minimalistic styles). Still, I am mostly a fantasy artist and in my case that comes with some amount of stylization and idealization of shapes and looks. I'm far from perfect in my biases and I'm not going out of my way to draw "ugly" characters because that doesn't mean much to me ; I try to draw inspiration from the faces of every day people and I associate it with my love for fashion. It's also worth noting the work I post here for fun is a lot more hash tag aesthetic than the stuff I do professionally where diversity is much more important.
I don't know if any of that is relevant but that's definitely an interesting topic ! I'd love to know others' perspective and tips on the matter.
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sanguineterrain · 2 days
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your most recent jason fic has me in a bit of a chokehold and its bc you do so well with the dialogue and the banter!!
HONEYLOVE???#?*×& i need to be physically restrained (i appreciate your fics respectfully)
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anyways, the fic has me thinking: imagine it's the same reader, but they know Jason's alive and they're back to being friends again (skipping over the drama of "YOU'RE ALIVE?!?" "yea lmao sorry ily tho") but there's this tension now. and since Jason's not working with a mask anymore (and he's slightly more vulnerable with r), it's him who gets flustered and it's r who does the flirting playful banter. maybe it ends with a kiss (˘ ³˘) ?
i'm such a sucker for a flustered Jason and there's something that tells me he gets really weak in the knees for someone he adores >:) anyways, you can always choose to write this or not but a very big, fat thank you if you do
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the reaction pics are SO FUNNY i'm glad you enjoy this au <3
jason todd x gn!nocturne!reader. pt 3 of vigilante reader. this is basically reader just being feral over jason :> they speak for all of us, really. love confessions, tension, somewhat flustered jason, more sparring lols.
pt 1 / pt 2
****
Jason Todd is alive. Jason Todd is sitting two feet away, talking about a case.
You can't quite believe it. You went home two days ago and expected to wake up to the whole thing being a dream or the result of a Poison Ivy hallucinogen.
You can't stop staring at him. It's weird. You're being weird. But you can't help it.
Every time you see Jason, you want to look at him for as long as possible. You don't want to forget his face. This new face. Scarred and hardened, but still good. Still loved.
And, well. It's not like Jason's bad looking. Sure, you thought he was cute when you were teenagers. Resurrection makes the heart grow fonder, et cetera.
But now? Now, Jason makes your heart stupid. You can barely contain your desire. It's been two weeks since he revealed himself, and every time you see him, you have to dig your nails into your palms to keep yourself from showing him what he does to you.
Sometimes you think he sees right through you, but if he does, he never acts on it.
"—listening. Yo. Ground control to Major Tom. Are you with me?"
Jason waves a hand in front of you. You blink.
He's unmasked and in a Fleetwood Mac t-shirt and dark jeans—the most comfortable you've seen him, actually. His hair is still wet from his shower.
"Sorry," you say, suddenly zeroed in on the three droplets of water sliding down his neck. "I'm listening. Just looking at you."
"'Cause I'm so pretty?" Jason asks, batting his lashes.
You reach over without thinking. He freezes when you wipe the water off of his neck. Then you tuck a curl behind his ear.
"You should let me blow-dry your hair," you say, taking your time in dropping your hand. "It'll take ages to dry in this humidity."
Jason's eyes have gone wide. Pink splotches bloom on the apples of his cheeks.
"Uh." He swallows. You watch his throat bob. "Thanks. Maybe... next time."
"I'll steal Dick's. He's got the fancy sixteen setting one."
That makes Jason smile. "Hm. Some things never change."
His eyes crinkle at the corners. Fondness swells swiftly in your chest.
You stay like that for a moment, caught in each other's orbit.
Jason breaks it first, leaning away. "Right. You should probably get back to the Manor. Br–the others'll probably think I kidnapped ya."
You shrug. "I quit."
"What?"
"Bruce was getting on my last nerve. I can't work with someone like that."
Jason snorts. "Join the club. Look, I can't say I'm not thrilled that you're stickin' it to the old man. But if this is 'cause of me... I wouldn't be mad if you kept workin' with him. Honest. If that's what you wanna do, don't let me stop you."
"Jason." You rest your hand atop his. "I joined this life because of you. To honor you. You taught me how to help people, not Bruce. You taught me what it meant to be kind, to be a part of something bigger than myself."
To love, you don't say.
"I..." He shakes his head. "You became Nocturne for me?"
You close your eyes, then open them. You've cried so many times. You don't want to stay in your grief any longer. Not when he's right in front of you.
"When you died, I..." You take a deep breath. "Nocturne was something to ground me. I think Bruce recognized that. I think he knew how much you meant to me. He didn't have to take a chance on me, and I appreciate that he did. But I've realized that he doesn't know everything. Can't see what's right in front of him sometimes."
You squeeze Jason's wrist. He sighs.
"God, I'm sorry," he says.
"What're you sorry for, Jay? You came back. That's all I ever wanted."
Jason chews his cheek for a moment. Then he stands, chair scraping the floor.
"C'mon," he says.
You follow him to the living room. He moves the armchair, the couch, and rolls up the rug. He disappears down the hall and returns with two thick mats. He tosses them onto the floor.
"Uh..." you say. "What're you—"
"'M gonna show you what y'did wrong that night on the roof."
"Wow. Can't believe you're still single. Being reminded of my shitty combat skills gets me so hot."
Jason rolls his eyes. "Alright, smartass. Just 'cause you quit the Bats doesn't mean you won't go out there and keep helping people. I know you. The least I can do is pick up where Dickface left off in your training."
"The least you can do, huh? I think you just wanna pin me against the floor again," you say, smirking.
He clears his throat. "That—no."
"No?" You step closer and look at him through your lashes. You're so close, you're touching his chest. "What happened to tying me up 'cause I was out when I shouldn't have been? Isn't that another educational technique?"
Jason's throat bobs. "That wasn't—I was just saying things."
"Hm. That's too bad."
You skip right past him, onto the mat, and hold out your arms.
"Okay. Put the moves on me, J.P."
It takes Jason a moment to craft his usual poker face. When he does, he groans. "'M not an evil Gilded Age financier. Still don't like 'J.P.'"
"But you like me-ee," you sing-song.
He shrugs. "Sometimes. Until you give me a heart attack and run into a burning building."
"Wish I could've seen your face for that one," you say as you steel your shoulders and secure your feet.
"Better you didn't. I'm sure there was a vein or two popping outta my forehead." Jason cracks his neck. "Ready?"
"Lay it on me, big guy."
"You first. Attack me like you normally would."
So you do. You step forward and throw a punch similar to the one from your rooftop spar. Jason catches it, of course. But this time, he locks you in a hold. One leg is between yours, and your arms are twisted behind your back with one hand. Humiliating.
"Dude!" You wiggle. Jason doesn't yield. "Jay, come on. No petty criminal is gonna know how to do all that."
"I know. The point of this is for you to know how to use someone's size against them."
Jason presses his cheek against yours. You tamp down your shiver. You can hear his heartbeat.
"Take a breath," he murmurs.
You close your eyes and breathe. Jason's grip doesn't hurt, but you're frustrated by how predictable you are. How he knows your body. A part of you is missing in not knowing him the way he knows you.
"Alright," he says. "Think. What part of me is exposed?"
"Not the important parts, I hope."
You can feel his eyeroll.
"You're hilarious. C'mon, focus. What can you attack?"
"Um... your legs. You trapped my arms, but my and your legs are free."
"Good." The praise warms you. Being this close to Jason will never get old. "What else?"
"What else? Do you have a tail I don't know about?"
"Sucha wiseass," he says, mouth close to your ear. "Your head. You're still able to move your head, and you're close to my face."
"Yeah, I'm not headbutting you. Out of the kindness of my heart."
"I appreciate that, sweets. Sweep my leg."
So you do. Jason goes down easier than he normally would for your benefit.
"'Kay," he says, once again underneath you. Now you have his hands pinned. "Good. Remember what went wrong last time?"
"You bucked me off like a Clydesdale."
He smiles. "Yeah, okay. So what'll you do different?"
"I'm not in my suit," you say. "I don't have extra weight in my boots."
"No, but you don't need it if you keep my legs apart."
"So that was your plan all along, huh? Perv."
Jason coughs. "Ah-hum... I—c'mon, lock my legs."
You grin and spread Jason's legs, using your knees to keep him immobile.
And then you just stare. This time, it's not because you're thinking about the miracle of resurrection (though what a miracle it is). No, you're just thinking, once again, about how your best friend got really, stupidly pretty.
And how you really, stupidly wanna kiss him.
Jason still looks young, but his jaw is now defined. He's got a five o'clock shadow coming on. His lips are full and pink. Freckles dot his cheeks and nose. The nose that still has a bump from when he broke it during a fight with Riddler.
You remember how he played it off for weeks. Bruce said that didn't even cry. But when you asked if it hurt, Jason had said yes.
You wonder when the last time Jason cried was. You wonder how much pain he's suffered since.
You wonder if he knows he's got your heart in the palm of his hand.
"Hey," Jason says. His voice is soft. Shy. "I lose ya again?"
You shake your head. "No. Never."
"There somethin' on my face?"
"You're a lot to look at," you say. "Pretty, pretty boy."
That gets an undeniable reaction. Jason Todd has never been able to take a compliment. You've been exploiting that all day.
Perhaps you know him better than you thought.
He exhales sharply, like you've sucker-punched him. His eyes dart to you. Waiting.
"Your eyes are green," you say. "Like, mixed. Blue and green."
Jason nods. "I—yeah. The Pit. Changed 'em. Changed me."
You lean in. His gaze flicks to your mouth. You watch his Adam's apple bob in a hard swallow.
"They're still pretty," you say. "Always had pretty eyes, Jaybird."
"Heh, right. Even with this shit?" He points to the scar that crosses over his right eye, stopping at his lip.
You let go of his wrists—not that you were holding them that tightly anyway. If this were a real fight, you would've lost ten times over already. Considering how much of you is touching Jason, you happen to be winning hard.
You trace the puckered white flesh with your thumb. Jason flinches but doesn't pull away.
"Your face could never turn me away," you say. "Never."
He closes his eyes and shudders. "Y'too nice to me. Always so nice t'me. Even when we were fighting. Why're ya so good?"
Your lips are a hair from his now. "I don't know how to make it more obvious, Jaybird. I'm absolutely insane about you."
Jason's eyes fly open. He sees your mouth and his breathing increases. You smile.
"Yeah, want you bad. No place I wouldn't follow you. Do anything for you."
Jason makes a strangled noise in his throat. You grin.
"C'mon, big guy. I'm right here. Come have me, Jay. I'm yours."
Jason soars up and kisses you. Swallows you, really. His hands hold your waist for dear life. You wrap one leg around his.
You nip his lip. Jason whines softly. Delicious.
You grab his face, fingers tangling in his curls. Jason sits up, slotting you against him. One hand supports you on your back, the other on your side.
"God—" He breaks away, just barely. "You're way too good for me. Had sucha... sucha crush on ya when we were kids. Y'so sweet."
You blindly find his throat and bite, hard enough to leave a mark. Jason makes a guh sound. You lick the bite to soothe it.
"Missed you," you say into his skin. "Missed you so goddamn bad, Jason."
"Yeah. Yeah, yeah," he babbles, clinging to you as you kiss up his neck. "Yeah, missed you too."
"Not letting you go," you say, almost snarling. You're angry with want, angry at the world for keeping this from you for so many years. "It's you and me now, Jay, mkay? Gonna be mine?"
"Always been yours," he says, panting. Jason finds your lips again. The kiss is messy, uncoordinated. Full of love. "No one but you."
You haven't fallen behind. You're starting anew.
"Never been anybody but you."
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vintageshanny · 2 days
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For the First Time
Content: 18+ This is a one-shot about Elvis losing his virginity. I do not claim to be an expert on the details of this. I have heard different rumors, and this is, to me, one possibility of how things might have happened. There is smut in this, but I’m more focused on how he might have been feeling at this time. As always, my tender little heart bleeds with love for him and everything he went through in his life. I would very much appreciate any feedback. ❤️
Thank you @lookingforrainbows for talking me through ideas on this and letting me know it didn’t sound ridiculous. You are a beautiful soul. ❤️ 😘
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Fall 1954
Elvis ran his fingers over the outline of the condom package that Scotty had slipped into his pocket at the beginning of the tour. “I know ya got a girl, EP, but put it in your wallet man, just in case. Ya don’t wanna come back with more people than ya left with,” he’d added with a wink. Somehow rubbing his fingers over the rough edges calmed Elvis’ ragged nerves a little bit.
His mind drifted to Dixie and the promises they’d made to each other. To wait. To wait until they were married to consummate their relationship. Sure, they were affectionate with each other, always hugging and kissing, but whenever Elvis tried to sneak his hand up under her skirt or unbutton a couple buttons on her dress, she’d firmly push him away and say, “That’s for our wedding night, silly.” Sometimes when they were kissing, she’d let him grind against her through their clothes, and he’d get so worked up that he needed to make an excuse to go to the bathroom so he could relieve the amount of passion coursing through his entire body.
The promise to wait had seemed so much easier six months ago when they talked about it. Now, it was damn near impossible. He saw the way these girls looked at him after the shows. He was dying to know what it felt like to explore every part of a woman. He thought maybe if he just got this out of his system, the waiting with Dixie wouldn’t be so hard. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he was a man after all, and she didn’t need to know about this. He could experience this on the road and be good for her at home. He just needed to find a way to make sure everyone was happy and taken care of, like he’d always tried to do.
Dropping the condom onto the rumpled bedspread, he rose from the edge of the bed and started pacing the hotel room, the voices floating up from the courtyard below making his heart thud in his chest.
“Maria! You came!” Scotty’s reedy voice rang out.
“That’s the idea,” Bill added, only slightly under his breath.
“You should head right up! Elvis should be waitin’ for ya. He’s been waitin’ a looong time.”
Elvis cringed at Scotty’s words as he looked out the window and saw the two of them clink beer bottles and laugh.
Maria paused and turned to look at them, one eyebrow raised in suspicion. “What’s that supposed ta mean?”
Elvis held his breath, willing Scotty not to divulge too much. He’d never come right out and told the guys he was a virgin, but he saw the way they nudged each other and smirked whenever he was talking to a girl after the show. He slowly exhaled as Scotty responded.
“Aw nothin’, honey, I just hope you two have fun on your date.”
Maria rolled her eyes and headed for the stairs, carefully ascending them in her white kitten heels. She took a deep breath, smoothed out her pale yellow sundress, and tried to brace herself for what was on the other side of that door. She had been with a handful of other men, but this was a bona fide star. He probably invited a different girl up every night. Maybe that’s what the other guys had been joking about. She hoped she would live up to his expectations, especially after her bold proclamation earlier. The conversation replayed in her head as she lifted her hand to knock on the door.
“Hey baby, I could see ya dancin’ from up on that stage. Looks like ya really enjoyed the show.”
“I sure did. Maybe I can return the favor with a show of my own.” A sense of satisfaction had consumed her when he unexpectedly blushed at her advances.
Maria’s mind snapped back to the present as Elvis flung open the door. He was wearing black dress pants with a pink jacket open to the naval. As he rested one hand slightly below his hip, she took note of his long slender fingers, nails chewed down to the nub, and the fuzzy little trail of hair leading down from his belly button. Up close, and in the fluorescent lighting of the hotel, she could see he had a pimple on his chin and another close to his collarbone. The entire scene was absolutely intoxicating.
“Maria, I was startin’ ta think ya were gonna stand me up, baby.” Elvis flashed a crooked little grin and stepped aside to let her in the room. He quickly kicked a stray sock under the bed where he’d hidden the rest of his dirty clothes. After sniffing each pair of socks, he had decided it was best to just stay barefoot after his shower. His toes scrunched up at the feel of the rough carpet under his feet.
“No, of course not,” Maria giggled nervously. “I suppose I just took too long tryin’ ta look nice for ya.”
“Well ya sure do look nice, honey,” Elvis whispered lowly as he closed the door and grabbed her by the waist, feeling the soft flesh of her hips. He leaned in and smushed his lips into hers, his tongue slipping into her mouth when she let out a little gasp.
“Wow, you don’t waste no time gettin’ to the action, hmm?” she laughed a little bit when he finally pulled back for some air, his eyes closed. His hands had moved up a little bit, his thumb gently rubbing at the side of her breast.
“I-I-I thought that’s what ya wanted, baby,” Elvis stammered out, trying to read her expression. “If you’d rather just sit and talk, that’s okay.” He led her over toward the bed, and they both spotted the condom at the same moment. Elvis’ face turned bright red as he snatched it up. “Oh, I-I-I’m sorry baby, I d-d-didn’t mean ta leave that there like that. We really ain’t gotta do nothin’, I-I-I mean-”
Maria just laughed and pushed him gently backward until he was sitting on the bed. “It’s okay, Elvis.” She unbuttoned his jacket the rest of the way and slipped it off his shoulders. “I always make good on my promises.”
Elvis stared in awe as she reached behind herself and unzipped the yellow dress, letting it fall to the ground, revealing a silky pink bra and panties. Elvis gulped nervously as he stared at her body. The material was so thin and sheer, he could see the outline of her nipples and the little mound of hair down below. He stifled a groan as he could feel his cock growing hard, straining against the briefs that he now wished he’d forgone.
“You’re really gonna make me put on a show for ya, huh?” Maria teased as Elvis just sat there studying her. “I thought ya might join in.” She reached back and unclasped her bra, her perky breasts now on full display for him.
“I-I-I’m sorry honey, ya jus’ got me a little speechless here. I’ll join in,” Elvis murmured as he pulled her closer to him. He tentatively leaned in and took one of her nipples in his mouth, caressing it with his warm tongue.
“Mmm, that’s more like it,” she whispered. “You can touch me anywhere, Elvis.” As she grabbed his hand to guide it toward her panties, she realized he was literally shaking with nerves. “Elvis? Are ya okay?” As she looked at him with concern, the meaning of Scotty’s “He’s been waitin’ a long time” suddenly hit her. “Are you, I mean, is this your, um, first time?” she asked softly.
“Wh-wh-what?” Elvis exclaimed, jerking his trembling hand away. “N-n-no baby, I-I-I’ve been with plenty of girls. I-I-I jus’, um, I mean, n-n-none as beautiful as you, that’s all,” he stammered out, trying to distract her with a compliment.
Maria wanted to tell him it was okay, that she was flattered, that he didn’t need to be nervous, but she decided it was best to just drop it and help him relax. She smiled and nodded. “You’re sweet, Elvis. I wanna see if ya taste sweet too.” She dropped down to her knees and unbuttoned his pants.
“Wh-wh-what are ya doin’ honey? Ya ain’t gotta do all that.” Elvis heard the words come out of his mouth, but somehow his body’s desire betrayed him by lifting slightly off the bed so Maria could pull off his pants. His heart raced anxiously as she reached inside of his briefs. He knew from being in the locker rooms back in school that not everyone had a sheath of foreskin covering their dick, and he hoped she wouldn’t mock him the way some of his classmates had.
Maria could feel her panties getting wetter by the second as she wrapped her hand around something thick and warm inside Elvis’ briefs. “We should just get these outta the way,” she murmured, pulling them down his legs and watching as he sprang free from the confinement. Her eyes widened with surprise when she realized he was not…well, not like the other guys she’d been with. There was something extra wrapped around him. She liked the way it felt as she pumped it with her hand.
Elvis squinched his eyes shut, too afraid he’d see a look of disgust before she jumped up and ran off. Instead, he felt something warm and wet wrap around his hard dick. He opened his eyes to see Maria taking him deep in her mouth, and the moan he let out made him kick himself for not closing the window tight. The whole hotel must know what’s going on in here. Her tongue traced its way around his shaft before taking special care of his sensitive tip. Elvis thought he might explode right on the spot as she sucked on him.
“You do taste good y’know,” Maria said with a little wink as she pulled off him and stood up again. She slid her dampened panties down and stepped out of them, so they were both totally naked. “Do you wanna check if I’m ready for ya?” Elvis nodded and this time let her guide his hand between her legs.
“Baby, it’s so wet down there,” he murmured as Maria started moaning. He found her entrance and slipped a finger inside of her, moving it in a way that felt natural. She felt so soft and silky, he thought he could just play with her pussy for hours. But Maria wanted more than a finger.
“You should slide right in then,” she whispered as she moved his hand and laid down on the bed next to him. He grabbed the condom again and opened it, rolling it onto himself, hoping Maria couldn’t tell he’d never done this before. Maria smiled at the awkward way he put on the condom, and noticed that she could feel him trembling again. “I want it so bad, Elvis,” she reassured him, pulling him on top of her.
“Me too, baby, me too.” Elvis reached down and guided his dick toward her slick opening. Once he’d gently pushed in a couple inches, he thrusted in the rest of the way, her wet pussy consuming his entire length. “Oh, goddamn,” he moaned out, unprepared for the feeling of something so tight and wet wrapped around him, clenching at him. He tried to take it slow, tried to make it last, but the pleasure was overpowering. He thrust a few times before his orgasm completely took over, leaving him panting on top of Maria, his sweaty hair dripping down onto her forehead.
“Oh wow, baby, you are amazing.” Elvis slowly pulled out and rolled to his side. He carefully peeled off the condom and tossed it into the trash can by the bed. “I-I-I’m sorry, I usually l-l-last longer, I jus’, uh, got so excited,” he tried to explain, his face turning red from the lies and the exertion.
Maria just smiled and patted his chest. “That’s okay, I thought your excitement was very sweet.” She hesitated, then added, “Do ya think you could, um, help me get there though? Your fingers felt magical inside me,” she admitted with a blush.
“Really?” Elvis perked up at the compliment. “I mean, of course baby.” He reached over between her legs and started playing with her pussy again, taking mental note of what seemed to work the best. She moaned deeply when he put a finger inside her, but he noticed that her toes curled up and she could barely even function when he rubbed at her little button. I wonder what both at once would do. He kneeled next to her and put two fingers from one hand inside of her while his thumb on the other hand worked that little nub.
“Oh, God!” she cried out in ecstasy, her legs shaking, her arousal leaking out onto his fingers. “Oh Elvis, I c-c-can’t take it,” she moaned, begging him to stop. Elvis removed his fingers and smiled, very pleased with his ability as he leaned down to kiss her soft lips.
“Was that magical enough?” he whispered in her ear.
“Pure magic.” Maria pulled him in for another passionate kiss.
“C-c-can I ask ya somethin’, honey?” Elvis gently stroked Maria’s arm with his fingertips. “After talkin’ to ya, ya seem like such a nice sweet girl. Wh-wh-why did ya do this with me?”
Maria tried to sort out the thoughts in her head, wondering how much she should share. “You seem like a nice sweet guy. Why did you do it?” she finally asked.
“W-w-well, that’s different, I mean, I…I wanted ta feel good I guess,” Elvis stumbled over his explanation, unable to really articulate what he was feeling at that exact moment.
“So did I,” Maria responded. “Elvis, I’ve been through some really bad experiences. I suppose at heart I’m just lonely and this is a way to feel close to someone, to feel connected and cared for, even if just for a little while. Ya know what I mean?”
Elvis swallowed a lump in his throat. It was like she had put his exact thoughts into words. “I know exactly what ya mean, honey. Does it work? Ta make ya feel close ta someone, I mean?”
Maria let out a little sigh. “Sometimes. Sometimes not so much. But we all just try the best we can, I suppose.”
Elvis nodded as Maria stood up to get dressed. “I should get home. My mama will worry and wonder where I’ve been.”
“What will you tell her?” Elvis asked as he pulled his clothes back on.
“That I was having a deep conversation with a friend,” Maria laughed. “Y’know, not really a lie, but not the whole truth. Not everyone needs ta know everything.”
“Will I, uh, will I see ya again at another show?”
Maria smiled and hugged him tight. “Maybe. But maybe we were just the connection the other needed in this moment.”
Maria paused at the door and looked back. “Elvis?”
“Yeah, honey?” Elvis’ mind was a muddle of confused emotions right now.
“You are very sweet and very special. Never let anyone make ya feel like that ain’t enough.” That crooked little smile would be burned into her mind forever.
Twenty minutes later, Elvis descended the steps to the courtyard, wondering what the guys were up to. Scotty and Bill were playing cards when they saw him approaching and started a round of applause. “There he is!” Scotty yelled out. “I told ya that condom would come in handy.”
“Aw quit it,” Elvis snapped, but he couldn’t deny feeling a tiny surge of pride at being considered “one of the guys” for the first time in his life. He couldn’t see it now, but over the years ahead, he’d sacrifice so much for the desire to fit in, to connect with people, to wish they could understand him. What he’d give for just one person to really understand what he was going through. To understand his heart.
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Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @whositmcwhatsit @missmaywemeetagain @lookingforrainbows @thatbanditqueen @be-my-ally @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @arrolyn1114 @atleastpleasetelephone
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gi4hao · 6 hours
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ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ ˎˊ- how they make you feel beautiful
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ot13 x reader — some mentions of insecurities
a/n: don’t mind me pushing the taking-pictures-as-a-love-language agenda for wonu, as always
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— seungcheol: with gifts
with him, gifts for no particular reason are much more frequent than gifts for a specific occasion. he doesn’t like to come home empty handed and always says you deserve all the pretty things in the world. if he ever buys you a piece of clothing or jewelry, then he’ll be the happiest man on earth every time you wear it, showering you with compliments a little bit more than usual just because he loves spoiling you <3
— jeonghan: with specific compliments
every variation of color in your irises, the micro expressions on your face, the way your laugh slightly varies depending on what’s provoking it: whether it’s something new or not, jeonghan will compliment the slightest details in your appearance or your personality. sometimes he begins with a “did i ever tell you…”, and you know you’re about to hear the sweetest thing ever. like, “did i ever tell you how dreamy you look in that light? i can’t stop looking at you,” and even though he’s just talking about the orange-ish hues of your bedside lamp, you know he’s being 100% honest.
— joshua: by saying it out loud
“you’re the prettiest” while you’re brushing your teeth, “you look so gorgeous” when he’s picking you up in his car, or just your usual “hey beautiful” when you wake up in the morning. he never gets tired of saying it and you never get tired of hearing it. he barely uses your name anymore because he’s so used to calling you ‘beautiful’. the man is so smitten he could spend hours flirting with you, years into the relationship. and it’s even better if you’re easily flustered because he loves how shy you get when you hear those words…
— jun: with cuddles
there’s something about the way his fingers mindlessly trace your silhouette that makes you feel like the most delicate sculpture ever. you could just be cuddling in silence, reading a book or scrolling on your phone, and his hands will gently brush against your skin like they were made to do that and nothing else. sometimes you feel like returning the favor, but although he doesn’t mind it at all, it’ll never come close to how much he loves cherishing you with his cuddles.
— hoshi: by being your #1 hypeman
even though you’re someone that brings hoshi a lot of peace and serenity, your mere existence also gets him very excited for no apparent reason. the way he hypes you up whenever you’re getting ready to go out together is similar to the way people cheer for their favorite sports team. he’s celebrating two things: you being absolutely gorgeous, and him being lucky enough to be your partner. “honestly, if i saw you walking down the street without being the one dating you… i think i’d start crying.”
— wonwoo: by taking pictures
it’s not just him taking pictures that makes you feel beautiful, it’s the way he treats his photographs as if they’re the most precious things he owns. he regularly makes sure that they’re synchronized on his personal icloud account in case he ever loses them (it’s very serious to him). but also, he keeps a picture of you on his desk, in his wallet, as his phone wallpaper… and everyone thinks it’s the sweetest thing ever. the guys tried to tease him for it at first, but they quickly gave up because even they had to admit it’s an adorable way to express his love for you.
— woozi: with meaningful looks
it’s a rare occurrence to catch woozi in the act of being incredibly down bad for you. but it sometimes happens when you notice him looking at you with heart-shaped eyes and a smile tugging at his lips. you could be sitting on the other side of a room and his gaze would still find you in a second, lingering for a few seconds just to appreciate your beauty. he said so himself actually, when you asked him why he was looking at you so frequently. “everyone likes looking at beautiful things,” he replied very naturally, not picking up on the squeal you had to hold back.
— dokyeom: by talking about you
“y/n would love that”. “this would look amazing on y/n”. “oh look, y/n just sent me a pic!”. it’s a daily occurrence, and everyone knows they just have to deal with it. some boyfriends might try to gatekeep their partner: that’s not dokyeom’s case at all. in fact, people better be complimenting you in front of him! to be honest, he was talking about you non-stop before you guys even started dating, which is why you barely had to introduce yourself to his friends. you’re one of his proudest accomplishments and he wants the whole world to know about you!!
— mingyu: with kisses
there’s nothing like being kissed by mingyu to feel a sudden boost of self-confidence. his hands gently cupping your cheeks, the way he looks at you in between kisses and the growing smile in his eyes and on his lips… everything in his behavior seems tailor-made to make you feel like a vision of heaven. it doesn’t always have to be kisses on your lips tho, sometimes it’s on the back of your hand, on your shoulder or on your temple. but no matter where his lips touch your skin, they always convey just how much he cherishes you and every inch of your body.
— minghao: by drawing you
no other representation of yourself makes you feel as self-confident as minghao’s drawings of you. at first you were a bit taken aback by the feeling of seeing yourself through someone else’s perspective in such a raw way. but you got used to it pretty quickly, mostly because of how often minghao uses you as a reference. when you take a closer look at them, you realize his drawings are filled with details that not only depict your looks, but also traits of your personality. slowly but surely, you start to believe in the beauty he consistently finds in you, and that’s enough to let him know he’s doing a perfect job.
— seungkwan: by complimenting your insecurities
he doesn’t do it that often because he doesn’t want it to be the only thing he compliments you on. but seungkwan is very attentive to the way you perceive yourself so he will guess your insecurities even if you don’t talk about them out loud. therefore, he’ll find subtle ways to compliment them without making it too obvious. sometimes it’s not even out loud, it might just be by gently brushing against a body part you’re not confident in, or hyping you up in an outfit that doesn’t hide your insecurity. no matter how he does it, it always comes with such kindness and love that you have no choice but to feel a bit prettier than you did seconds ago.
— vernon: by paying attention
it sounds silly but it’s true. vernon pays attention to everything, from the colors you look most confident in, to what kind of compliments seem to work best on you. and later on, he’s able to adapt his behavior accordingly, to make you feel as good as possible in any situation. “you always know exactly what say, i don’t know how you do it,” you once told him, almost teary from how sweet he was being. “well, the fact that you strongly underestimate how beautiful you are is an insanely good motivation,” he replied, gently wiping the tears under your lash line.
— dino: by showing you off
he considers you the rarest gem of all, so yes of course he will show you off to whoever’s near! he’s the type of boyfriend that will enter a room before you just because he wants to do jazz hands for your entry. and he has such a smug look on his face when you two are out together, it’s like he’s in a permanent state of pride just because you’re holding hands in public. and although he’s not huge on pda, he has no problem complimenting you out loud in front of other people, and you find yourself on his instagram stories on a regular basis, which makes your self-esteem go up a notch every single time.
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REQUESTS ARE OPEN!
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sincerelybubbles · 3 hours
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i've noticed you
pairing: spencer reid x profiler!reader
warnings: fluff, not proof read (as is the usual oops), slightly slightly suggestive
word count: 2.6k
it's a late night in the office. dim light casts shadows across the bull pen. you squint your tired eyes to focus them on the document in your hand. hours have passed since everyone else went home but you stayed behind. something about pushing into the early hours of the weekend to finish off a long week is better for your mental health than leaving the documents for monday. the totality of closing the folder, marking it complete, and filing it away allows you to push the details of your cases to the back of your mind. you can't forget them entirely, of course, and nightmares still haunt you, but this is the best system you've found to make yourself feel better, even if only marginally.
a call of your name, soft and familiar, startles you. you jump, chair pushing back a few inches. you look up to see spencer standing in the doorway, giving you a confused look. his bag is strapped across his chest, hands clutching it, eyebrows raised. he's dressed more casually than you're used to: a plain blue shirt, khaki pants, his usual dress shoes. his hair is messy and his eyes look sleepy behind the confusion, like he'd only just woken up.
"hey, reid," you say, catching a yawn in the middle of saying his name. "you scared me."
"i could say the same to you. what are you doing here at," he checks his watch, flicking his wrist to right it in a movement that has your chest tightening. "3:46 in the morning on a saturday?"
"i could say the same to you," you mimic him, sending him a wide smile. you lift up your documents when he sends you an unamused look, waving the folder. "just finishing up before the weekend."
"you have over two weeks to have those reports filed, though?"
"helps me sleep better to have them done, i guess. you never answered me, though -- why are you here?"
"ironically, to help myself sleep," spencer answers, crossing the room in swift, long strides to reach his desk behind yours. he deposits his bag and turns to you, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. "i get nightmares and sometimes the best thing to do is try to get some work done. helps my conscious, i guess. or, at least keeps me busy."
you nod and watch him make his way to the kitchen. "that makes sense."
"i'll be back," he calls to you over his shoulder.
you hear his return a few minutes later, eyes trained on your file again. you don't look up this time, now that you know who it is. you're too focused on finishing these last few documents and fully aware that it's sort of hard to stop looking at spencer once you start.
the gentle click of a mug hitting your desk grabs your attention, though, and you tear your eyes from the page to look up.
spencer is leaning across your desk, nudging a yellow mug toward you, smiling widely. your throat tightens, a quick flash of pleasant awareness of him, and you swallow it away.
"what's this?" you ask, reaching for the mug. he doesn't let go as you expected and your fingers brush against each other. he shrugs instead of answering, leaning back against the desk next to yours and taking a sip from his own mug.
"coffee."
you take a sip, surprised to find it made exactly how you like. you can't remember ever telling him what you like and your cheeks heat at the gesture. you're grateful that the only lamp on is yours, hiding the heat from him.
"how'd you know how i like it?" you ask, taking a sip.
"i pay attention," he says, eyes trained on yours.
"to people's coffee preferences?"
"to yours, sure."
before you can properly allow that to sink into your exhausted mind, spencer sets his mug on your desk before grabbing his own files. "mind if i join you?" he asks, dragging the nearest chair over. "at least until you go home for the night."
"yeah, sure, i could use the company," you say, clearing space for him.
||||
5:53 AM
you: [attached image]
you: i promise i'm on the way, just having the worst morning. once i get this tire fixed, i'll let you know
you sigh, throwing your phone in your bag and squatting down to examine your blown tire. you don't know what you hit but you do know it's the start to an already sour morning.
you slept with your window propped open, despite how many times you've seen that go poorly for victims, and it rained, drenching your curtains. you didn't get to pack a lunch after dealing with that and usually, you eat breakfast at the office, so now you're on the side of the wet road, blown tire, and late for the first time in years.
your phone buzzes twice and you stand to dig it out of your bag.
5:55 AM
morgan: bad morning, pretty girl?
hotchner: don't worry about it, stay safe.
you roll your eyes at morgan, chest feeling lighter at hotch's reply. you hadn't expected him to be angry, this wasn't something anyone could foresee, but his answer still lessens the anxiety in your chest.
you climb into your car, turning on the heat and holding your hands to the vent for a few moments. you sit there for a few minutes past when you've thawed, dreading reentering the wet morning to change the tire.
the sound of a car door opening and shutting grabs your attention and you look in the rearview to see spencer walking toward you, hitting the button to lock one of the company vans. he's holding a bag in his hands, walking briskly to avoid getting too wet in the morning mist.
you throw open the passenger door when he gets close enough and watch as he folds himself in the car, shutting the door and adjusting his jacket.
"hello," you say, amused, "fancy seeing you here. did hotch send you?"
"i volunteered, here." he hands you the bag. you look at him for a moment longer, watching as he fixes his hair. you return your focus to the bag when he looks over at you, embarrassed to be caught.
you find one of the kitchen muffins and a banana in the bag. you stare at it for a moment, fully aware that this is exactly what you eat most mornings at work.
"i know you usually eat at work and didn't know if you had anything here," spencer explains.
"you noticed that?"
"i noticed you," he says. your eyes snap up to meet his, heart fluttering in your chest. he doesn't look embarrassed, eyes meeting yours steadily.
you struggle to find words, heart beyond touched by the gesture. you end up muttering, "thank you, spencer."
"you're welcome." there's a moment's pause while you come to terms with the fact that this can no longer be considered one of your worst mornings. "also, there was betting about if you could change a tire."
"ah, so you're here because you didn't believe in me?"
"well," he says, cheeky, smiling over at you. "you are just sitting in your car, decidedly not changing your tire."
"i was working myself up to it!" you say in defense. it's insane to you how quickly he has shifted your mood in just a few minutes.
he shakes his head at you, smiling slightly, and pops his door open, "open the back," he says, stepping out.
you do as he says, opening the trunk and getting out after him.
"i really was going to do it, you don't have to," you say, following him around the back of the car and watching him shift the things around to find your spare tire.
"i got it. go sit in the car, it's cold." he rolls his sleeves up, sending you a look.
you watch his hands as he moves the fabric up, exposing his forearms. you swallow, mouth dry, as he moves to the other arm, wrists flexing and bringing his veins into focus.
"i'm not sitting in my car while you do all the work," you refute, voice wavering, tearing your eyes away from his hands. you feel like a silly schoolgirl, ogling at her crush. or, better yet, like a scandalized victorian man seeing a hint of ankle for the first time, entranced by the barest hint of innocent skin. still, under the heat of embarrassment, you can't stop yourself from shifting your weight from foot to foot watching him lift the tire from your trunk.
"why not?" he asks, carrying the donut under one arm and walking over to the flat tire. you watch him, entranced, as he crouches down to examine the flat.
"it feels wrong! really, spence," you say, walking over to him and leaning down to catch his forearm and get his attention. "you don't have to change it for me, i'm more than capable."
"i know," he says, turning to look up at you from under his lashes. he smiles, still just a hint at the corner of his lips, and nods toward the car. "still, go sit, it's cold."
"spence-" you start and he rolls his eyes, standing up so he can look down at you and crossing his arms.
he says your name lowly, leaning back against the car and raising an eyebrow. "get in the car, this will only take me a minute."
he doesn't wait for your answer, pushing himself off of the car and walking to the trunk to grab the tool kit. stunned and slightly turned on, you slowly walk back to the drivers side of the car.
"good, now eat, too," he calls.
you grab the bag of food when you sit down, letting your legs hang down outside of the car. he stands up straighter to see you over the hood of the car and grins at you, "thank you."
||||
hands sweating and heart racing, you press the button on the elevator and watch the door close. you clutch the little bag between two of your hands, rolling your head back to stretch it and stare at the ceiling.
you're a profiler, you know people, you know that your ever-growing crush on spencer is reciprocated. his face as he said "i noticed you" is the last thing you see before you sleep and you know you aren't misinterpreting the signs. still, anxiety pools when the elevator dings and you step off.
you roll out your shoulders and step into the bull pen with confidence you have to fake, putting a smile on your face and holding the little bag behind your back slightly.
"morning angel," penelope calls to you, swinging around the corner and linking her arm with yours. "did you have any fun hot dates this weekend? please say yes, i am in desperate need of someone to live vicariously through -- my love life is dry in all definitions of the word."
"sorry love," you say, patting her arm and sending her a sympathetic look. "still working on that plan i mentioned a few weeks ago."
"wait," she says, suddenly stopping and forcing you to as well. "really? because you were all gung-ho about maintaining a sense of workplace appropriate behavior and all of that other blah hr speak."
"well," you say with a shrug, smiling at the ground, "i don't know, can't a girl change her mind?"
"she most certainly can. in fact, i have right now!" you look up at her suddenly ultra cheerful voice and see spencer walking into the room, hands in his pockets and heading right for you with a smile as a greeting. "i have decided that i'm not walking you to your desk and we'll chat over lunch instead. bye!"
just as quickly as she arrived, penelope left, scampering away to her office with a grin stretching across her face. she's your best friend, the one person you tell everything, and also the source of your greatest annoyance, leaving you alone in the hallway.
"what was that about?" spencer asks, reaching you and stopping only half a step away.
"just garcia being garcia," you say, shrugging.
"well, goodmorning," spencer says, tucking his chin down to look at you better. "have a good weekend?"
"i did," you say, swallowing in a deep breath to steel your nerves. "i actually managed to go to that bookstore you told me about."
"oh really?" spencer asks, excitement animating his face. "did you talk to the store owner? she's super cool, i actually learned a lot from her about book binding last time i visited. she has a little workshop in the back."
"i did, actually. i had to get her help finding a specific book," you say, holding the bag out to him.
"oh, which one?"
"open it and see."
"it's for me?" spencer asks, looking genuinely caught off-guard. he takes the bag slowly, as if expecting you to rip it away. you nod encouragingly and he takes the cue to lift the paper out of the bag and then the book. "wait, no way. this is so cool! i've been searching for it for ages."
you watch as he opens the book and his eyes widen finding it signed. he slowly, reverently, flips the pages to look at the publication date and his eyes flick to meet yours.
"this is a first edition?"
"yeah."
"this is- how did you know?"
"i noticed you, too," you say, voice soft and hesitant. you take the half step forward so your toes are touching. surprisingly, your anxiety is nowhere to be found as you look up at him, smiling, chest warm and fingertips tingling. "i hope that's okay."
"beyond, actually," spencer answers, voice softer. the hand holding the bag and book falls, his other one lifting to your cheek, hesitant. he brushes his fingers across your cheekbone gently before moving his hand to cup the back of your neck and bringing you in for a hug. .
it's exactly how you expected hugging spencer to be, warm and all-consuming. he laughs, gentle, a vibration you can feel through his chest and into yours.
"what?" you ask, face buried in his chest.
"it's amazing how hard i'm fighting to not kiss you right now. i always thought i would be too nervous - i mean, obviously, i've kissed people before. not that that's what i should be talking about right now, but, i just mean, it's different with you. you make me happy in a way that makes me nervous, you know?"
"i know," you say, softly, cutting off his rambling with a hidden smile. he's still holding you in the empty hallway and you would love nothing more than to hear his rambling but you're also very aware that someone could walk in any moment.
you just hope that whatever this is leads to more of his thoughtless rambles - you've missed them, noticed how he's held himself back more, and you think nothing will make you happier than being the person he turns to with them.
"yeah. um, thank you. but now i'm not nervous, i'm just annoyed we're at work."
you laugh, pushing away from him, fixing his tie. "we have plenty of time, it's okay."
he doesn't say anything, his hand still on the back of your neck. instead, he slowly leans down to press his lips to your forehead. it's gentle, as if he's afraid the wrong move will break you or send you running, and you melt from it.
"plenty."
part two of it's a date will come soon!! i hope!!!! please take this as a peace offering <3 i got the idea of spencer changing a tire on my head and could NOT LET IT GO !!!! like i'm ngl, i made myself blush w this so i hope u all enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it :)
also also!! i usually like to keep my notes short but this is a reminder that my asks/inbox are always open!! and i read every reblog and comment and smile and giggle like a little kid when i see them. you all make my day every day and ily u all
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I don't think I've ever seen this particular meet up around, and if you've written something like this please kindly point me to it, but...
I'm dying to know. How would Legacy react to the other Harbingers?
We kinda know Ajax's opinion on them from voice lines, but I really wanna know what Moth TM thinks
And, if you wanna go the sagau route too, how would he feel being in a Harbinger only team? (Aka Childe, Scara/Wanderer and Arlecchino, in the present moment, but let's pretend we have a fourth one of them already)
hoohoohoo i got you, this is going to be a long one so bear with me mothlings!!
Director: Pierro is suspicious to Foul Legacy, he smells like the Abyss, yet not. the stars in his eyes match the ones in Legacy's glittering wings, but their light is from Teyvat, not the otherworldly glow from beneath this land. Legacy doesn't like it, the feel of being so close to home but with something obviously wrong that he simply can't put his claw on
First: Capitano is a pillar of strength, someone both Childe and Foul Legacy admire wholeheartedly- but Legacy also sees his nobility, the way he treats even his lowest level agents with respect. he aspires to be like that one day, someone people can look up to and expect kindness in return, so even Foul Legacy will give the First Harbinger a small, polite bow
Second: Legacy detests Dottore with all of his heart. not only does Childe have younger siblings, but Dottore has also attempted to rope him into experiments on his Abyssal half. Foul Legacy hates being treated like a thing, like just a feral animal, and that's not even mentioning what he fears the Doctor could do to you. Childe has to hold him back from growling viciously whenever he passes Dottore in the hall
Third: Columbina is strange, but Legacy is also strange! she's unsettling, yes, but she never tries to harm him or Childe- unless the latter riles her up enough to fight. sometimes when Foul Legacy is particularly homesick for you, nations away from Snezhnaya, he'll listen to her eerie singing as she sits nearby, not paying him any mind at all
Fourth: Legacy regards Arlecchino with both fear and respect. she's cordial enough, keeping her operations quiet and training her children to be the next set of Fatui soldiers, much like how Ajax became Tartaglia. the Knave terrifies Foul Legacy with her calm ruthlessness, but as long as she doesn't raise a finger towards you, he won't do anything
Fifth: Pulcinella is a curious case, treating Childe like a grandson and regarding his Abyssal half with kindness as well. it's a welcome change, and yet... Legacy can't help but feel like he isn't completely sincere. there's the barest undertone of a lie when he tells Childe about the other Harbingers, and Legacy watches the information with a care, suspicious eye
Sixth: ERROR. DATA NOT FOUND.
Seventh: Childe doesn't get the chance to interact with Sandrone that often, so neither does Foul Legacy. but he's very curious about what she does, always tinkering away in her lab- it's less foreboding than Dottore's set of rooms, at least. once she begrudgingly allowed him to watch her work, and needless to say her robots consider Foul Legacy their friend now
Eighth: Signora wasn't Childe or Legacy's favorite coworker when she was alive- they're not happy that she's dead, but it is somewhat of a relief to not have Childe bite his tongue with a vengeance whenever some snide comment slipped from her mouth. still, Legacy almost wishes he knew a bit more, having seen her stare longingly out the window at the silent snow all too often- he knows that longing. it's the type he feels when he misses you
Ninth: Legacy doesn't know much about Pantalone, apart from his love of wealth. he's an elegant man, to be sure, someone who can simultaneously keep his composure while also being entirely condescending. but Childe has a habit of buying you trinkets and gifts during his travels, so he's still grateful for the funds the Regrator provides
Tenth: ???
Foul Legacy wouldn't mind being in a team with other Harbingers- he knows they can't hurt him, at least not directly, and it seems to make the Creator so happy. he basks in your warm words, your loving attention, purring happily whenever he hears your sweet voice praise him- but only when his teammates aren't watching. he just knows that the Wanderer, mysterious as he is, will mock him for it, and Arlecchino always seems to know what's going on even when she's not present. his fourth teammate always seems to switch; he likes it best when it's Sandrone or Capitano. Legacy knows how the rest of them feel, though, how the Wanderer lowers his hat or how Arlecchino's lips quirk when they hear your compliments- the Creator has the adoration of them all
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friend-crow · 9 hours
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Hey, please know that I say this from a place of love and compassion:
Sometimes what looks like a clique is just a group of friends having fun together and not actually like an exclusive club. As somebody with horrible social anxiety, I can understand feeling left out and frustrated when you see a tight knit group that you aren't part of, but sometimes these things are really not all that exclusive. There is room for more friends.
With that said, I do think that when you have posts that end up being circulated a lot, it's hard not to put on blinders for some of the interactions coming from strangers. Sometimes this means literally muting notifications for a week or two when something breaches containment, or just deciding that you can't put the time and energy into replying to every response to one of your posts. I'm genuinely sorry if I've made people feel like they're being purposely ignored or excluded. In the vast majority of cases it's not personal. It's just a matter of bandwidth.
Believe it or not there are other prominent tumblr friend groups that I'm too intimidated to interact with much. They are not deliberately excluding me, I'm just awkward and don't really know how to initiate friendships.
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im not the other anon but ig when compared to other characters kevin can come off as a coward. and i do think "Kevin is a coward" and "it's completely normal for kevin to be afraid of riko" can exist at the same time.
but when pitted against neil for example. i can see see how kevin might seem that way. neil does run away from his father, but ultimately, he only really does that while under the control of his mother. Neil explicitly doesn't want to keep running. and stops very soon after his mom is dead and she can no longer force him to. and the decision does frighten him, I mean he has panic attacks about it, but he keeps doing it despite that. he plans to stay even before Andrew offers him protection, so he doesn't need that crutch like kevin does.
neil also isn't afraid of riko, even when he should be or when he's literally torturing him. he's not afraid of tetsuji either. or even really ichirou. even scenes with his father and lola, I mean he says lola looks like a whore to her face when she's about to torture him 💀 he says "fuck you" to his father when he threatens to cut the tendons in his legs. and he does try and fight Nathan and the others like he punches lola in the throat 😭 I'm just kinda listing of neils actions, but hopefully it makes sense? like I'm not saying neil is always unaffected or unafraid cause its not true, but he has more bravery than I think most ppl do cuz i know I wouldn't be cursing out these ppl if I was face to face with them.
and when we see compare Kevin's behavior to that a lot of it can come off as cowardice.
I think the real problem is seeing coward as a bad thing to be. which maybe sometimes it is. but it seems odd for the fandom to say "oh it's okay to be afraid" and then act like it's an insult to call Kevin a coward. its not bad if he is one. it's just a personality trait, it doesn't make him a bad person. I don't think anyone who calls Kevin a coward is attempting to make some moral judgement of his character, they're just noting a personality trait they observed in him.
Ok the problem is that a lot of people who call Kevin a cowerd ARE making moral judgements of his character; Kevin is rightfully afraid of riko and a literal Yakuza; he grows up in the nest where Neil spent two weeks and as further more traumatized; a lot of people don't take that into Consideration . Kevin not spouting up insults like Neil is not cowardance. he can keep his temper in check; neil is being hypocritical too cause like as u said his mom abused him yet he loves her ; and Kevin grew up with riko and still sees him as a brother figure; that's normal not to mention Neil is afraid of his father and think Kevin is coward. for Kevin his fear is riko. I think it all depends on what you think bravery is; Neil can't keep his temper in check and all his roasts and "bravery" has had awful consequences a lot of times. if Kevin was really coward he wouldn't tell Neil to run away while in the middle of season once he found out his identity knowing game would be at risk; he still offered to talk to Neil about riko when he's rightfully terrified and had a panic attack after seeing him. He never gave up on exy learned to play with his other hand and in the end he manages to stand up to riko; and beats him. It just pisses me off when Kevin's characters good traits are all ignored in favor of him being labeled as a spinless coward ; when that's not the case. Bravery is not only shit talking or knife swinging to me. And I hate the world coward generally; he's traumatized just as much as the other foxes and other than his rightful fear of riko and actual Yakuza he's not a coward and in the end he does stand up to him/them so he's not even a coward anymore. It shouldn't be such a large part of Kevin's description in the end at least ; by that logic jean is also a coward? And I've never seen someone call him that badly over the years.🤷
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idontknowreallywhy · 21 hours
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Another instalment of dinky Scott at School - I think there are (as yet unwritten) scenes in between these but I figured I’d get the key ones down then have a look and decide if it’s actually a story to flesh out or just a series of snapshots to leave as is.
Apologies to any actual teachers who may notice I am playing fast and loose with how such things might work in real life.
Disclaimer: Teeny Scooter does not actually appear in this bit, but is much discussed…
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THE Jeff Tracy.
She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t spent most of the night revising the 6 bullet points she wanted to cover in that one 12-minute parent-teacher conference. She’d quietly ensured the slot immediately afterwards was unbookable just in case things… overran.
None of the other teachers had met him, only the mother, who by all accounts was very pleasant. She hadn’t expected him to come, assuming he was probably on the moon or something equally intrepid. But the little box next to the number 2 had been ticked on the form so unless it was a grandparent or something…
The fancier biscuits she’d picked up from the store had just been a whim… sometimes she wanted to bring a bit of luxury into proceedings, that’s all it was…
Oh heck she’d bought fancy biscuits. Just like the hopeless fangirl she was. As if he’d notice anyway?
The first parent had noticed and seemed to enjoy their chocolate dipped Viennese finger biscuit. So it was worth it.
The second set of parents hadn’t turned up at all which left her with an agonising 18 minute wait.
It was fine. Just another PTC with some totally normal parents hoping to hear what a delight their precious offspring was. And she intended to thoroughly emphasise that part right at the outset because he really was.
The other notes she had would also be fine because she had considered every possible way of delivering them and had figured out the most persuasive.
All. Fine.
She needed another word for fine.
A gentle tap-de-tap and the door cracked open to reveal a waterfall of red hair and a very friendly face. Behind, even taller than he looked on tv, towered the man from the all those documentaries she’d binge-watched as a student.
Definitely just a normal PTC.
Felicity Miles, teacher, champion of tiny people, competent human, took a breath and greeted the couple with professional confidence and a welcoming smile.
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In the last five years she’d broken similar news to four other sets of parents, and observed her mentor do similar in her training year. Not a big enough sample to be conclusive but the fact the reaction had been the same each time had lulled her into a complacency about what to expect.
It went something like - shocked faces, initial denial, possibly a little anger, guilt that they hadn’t known, 3 of the mothers and 2 of the fathers had cried. Then, usually, she could see a little relief creeping in…. The hope that it hadn’t been something they’d got Wrong after all.
And then a brief conversation about what could happen next and arrangement of a meeting to discuss further when they’d had time to think. She’d hand them the department of education-approved info leaflets and smile and promise it would all be alright.
This one wasn’t going the way it should.
To start with there was zero surprise. Not even a flicker. In fact they’d looked at each other and smiled, before patiently listening to the rest of her little monologue. Right up until she started outlining the stages in the school’s neurodiversity support pathway at which point Mr Tracy had lifted a hand and cut in:
“There’ll be no need for anything formal. He’ll learn to manage his difficulties and he’ll overcome them.”
Felicity did her best to ignore the calm tone in his voice that simultaneously commanded she agree with him, advised it was a done deal not worth fighting against and reassured her that he was obviously right and it was all for the best. She pictured the desperate little human curled up in the Octopus House and tapped into the protective rage it generated:
“I don’t think you understand, Mr Tracy. A diagnosis would mean he could get that little bit of extra support he needs, perhaps a Teaching Assistant to keep him on track and help with refocussing when he gets distracted. He could have occasional time out on special programs to develop his interests, as I said he really does excel at maths and…”
“Ms Miles, please stop there a moment.”
She did so.
A few seconds later she remembered to close her mouth.
“Are you aware of what Scott wants more than anything in the world?”
She clenched her jaw in an effort not to snark back “a glimmer of self-esteem?” and thought about what seemed to make her zoomy little friend the happiest. The answer left her mouth before she was aware she knew it:
“He wants to fly.”
It was his mother who sighed and spoke next, the slight unevenness of her voice probably undetectable to someone who hadn’t spoken to a LOT of exhausted parents:
“He does. He always has from the moment he realised he couldn’t. Even before he really understood what airplanes were, he’s been fascinated by them and has been determined to reach the sky to join them. He seems to view gravity as a personal insult…” she chuckled then added “Being a parent to Scott Tracy is 90% catching him as he leaps from places he shouldn’t according to all the laws of physics be able to reach.”
Her husband reached over and squeezed her hand with an affectionate smile and added in a much softer tone:
“In his pram he watched the birds, it was the only thing that settled him. You won’t be surprised to learn that all of his bedroom decorations are aircraft-related. He’s not even remotely interested in space travel or what his mother and I do other than that we both flew planes first.”
Felicity could see it all but felt the conversation had gone off on a tangent. She took charge again and tried a different tack:
“But to achieve his goal he is going to need to have decent grades at the end of his education and the foundation of that starts here. He has so much potential and… look, I couldn’t give a damn about the class interruptions, please don’t think that is what this is about. I can handle all that, it’s what’s going on in his head, how he sees himself and I think we need to have something in place so that he and all his future teachers understand that… I hate to say it but for some, a formal diagnosis is the only way to persuade people that a child isn’t deliberately…”
“Ms Miles.”
The sigh escaped this time.
“Yes, Mr Tracy?”
“Do you happen to know the criteria one must fulfil to train as either a commercial airline or a military pilot?”
“Offhand? Not, precisely, no.”
“There is also an exclusionary list. Certain conditions, diagnoses, other events on a medical record that may prove to be a barrier to acceptance. Many people in the field don’t agree with everything on the list, but at the moment it exists. You’re clearly a smart woman, Ms Miles, and I can tell you’ve already worked out one of the conditions noted on that list.”
He wasn’t wrong. She hadn’t released her breath since the word ‘exclusionary’. But it forced its way out now in a quiet groan and then a whisper:
“ADHD.”
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im a bit nervous to say this cause i really dont involve myself in tulpa discourse other than stating im accepting of tulpas, but its my understanding in life that people can't own actions. yes certain cultures and religions may have their specific way of doing something and make it their own, but that doesn't mean they own that action, they own the way they do the action. (im using own kinda liberally im not trying to imply they have some sort of legal ownership lol) but so with tibetan buddhist tulpamancy (i cant for the life of me remember the word they actually use) they dont own the concept of creating another entity in your mind or "self" but they do own the way they do it and their beliefs attached to it. im trying to relate this to something but i cant think of any analogies that would be as specific as this, and i dont want any anti-tulpas to see my general example and think im comparing to very different things.
Yeah, I think tulpacourse can be pretty difficult to wade through sometimes. Personally, I'm not entirely sure I even agree with the concept of owning your own beliefs. Even in a figurative way. Aside from, maybe, actually totally closed cultures.
I see beliefs as things that are meant to be shared, adapted, or sometimes even torn apart and scavenged for scraps. And sometimes, I do think the way these things happen might be offensive to some people who feel connected to them.
I don't really feel like this applies in the case of tulpamancy at all because I think it's so far divorced from Tibetan Buddhism as to not share any beliefs with it whatsoever.
But this was something I thought about a lot during the whole thing about God being plural. Because there, I'm playing directly with people's very sacred and personal beliefs. And I'm doing so in a way that some people are going to find offensive.
And the thing I decided is that... I don't feel like Christians have ownership over their beliefs. Not in a way that they would get to dictate who can use them or how they're used.
Yes, they can complain if they find something offensive or blasphemous. And some will do that very loudly. But I don't think I should feel obligated to avoid offending people either.
Especially when Christianity is itself based on Judaism. In fact, basically every old religion is a permutation of a permutation of a permutation, dating back thousands of years to religions which would look very differently from anything that's practiced today.
And I also think again on certain practices that some might consider offensive, such as the conversation on Godspouses where some people believe they both can communicate and marry certain deities. I don't see that people from those religions have any sort of right to police the beliefs of others. They can be offended by godspouses if they want. But that doesn't mean the godspouses are somehow in the wrong for their beliefs and experiences nor should they feel obligated to change how they worship and connect to their deities to please others.
...
As a side note, there was another fun note to come out of the tulpa AMA that I wanted to share. Michael Lifshitz is working with a scholar of Tibetan Buddhism to write an article on the practice tulpamancy was based on, going over texts that have never been translated to English!
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So that's something pretty cool to look forward to! 😁
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godsfavoritescientist · 2 months
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well hold on, if we define a character flaw as any limitation a character deals with, regardless of whether it's something Morally Wrong With Them or not, then Ford's paranoia counts as a character flaw since it does in fact negatively impact him and the people around him. Let me use better wording here: I will die on the hill that Ford's paranoia is not a moral failing.
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hershelwidget · 10 months
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wait hang on
HANG ON
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DO YOU SEE MY VISION
#professor inkling#count bleck#TELL ME YOU SEE IT. IM NOT CRAZY#*writes yet another octonauts crossover au-*#OK BUT LISTEN HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT#H E A R ME  O U T#in case you're wondering if it's just the monocles NO IT RUNS DEEPER THAN THAT I PROMISE#1. both have been around a long time and founded some sort of group to further their goals (octonauts & team bleck)#2. fancy clothes (yeah inkling's in just a bowtie but remember he's straight up an octopus) that stand out among their peers#3. speaking of that last point: unusual anatomy (one does NOT look a fish and the other is a head torso and floating hands. nothin else)#4. i kinda don't wanna have to pull the mafia au card on this one but if I WAS then: tragic backstories and tragic motives#though then again do we REALLY know anything about inkling- like do we R E A L L Y?? his backstory could be tragic they just aint tellin..#5. avid book readers (bleck let a book tell him how his life was supposed to go this man is clinically into books)#6. defense mechanism that involves darkness (octopus ink & a bLaCk HOLE-)#7. if you see either of them walking it Don't Look Right#8. this is more of an implied thing for them but: knows a LOT about the people they gathered for their causes#9. both from children's media that gets DARK sometimes without warning#10. sometimes they say things and the people around them are just ''what''#11. love interests (ones outright saying it and the other is again just implied but STILL ITS ANOTHER POINT SOOO)#12. ok fine. yes it was the monocles at first but then i thought about it MORE so HA#feel free to add on if i missed something
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p5x-theories · 4 months
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Hey this guy is a native speaker and you can hear him say the names of the new thieves. Yui, Hina Nishimori, Toshiya Sugai, and Miyu Sahara. Idk if he’s speaking 8n Chinese or Japanese but the names sound clear. https://www.youtube.com/live/6fQz402kUg4?si=RId-nY6Gk7ju9RL2 at 40:43
Oh, haha, I was just about to post a link to his stream of the preview livestream, for anyone else who was curious to see it!
He's speaking Japanese, which means his readings of the names (which are written in Japanese) are probably a more accurate guess than what I'm doing with my dictionary, yeah. The kanji characters that Japanese names are usually written with often have multiple ways they can be read, though, and my understanding is that even if you're a native speaker, the first reading of the name that comes to mind may not always be the correct one, in the same way you could misread a name in English because you've heard it pronounced one way, but the person whose name it is pronounces it another way.
Which isn't to say I think he's wrong necessarily! Just that (at least as I understand it as someone learning Japanese) it's still not 100% confirmation those are their canon names, so I'll hold off on calling anything "confirmed" until I hear the names in-game, just to be safe.
(Though, to be clear, I do consider Yui confirmed, since they write that name in English in some cases as well, haha. The above explanation applies to the three names written in Japanese.)
But thanks for sending this in, all the same!
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on-a-sunbeam · 1 year
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So please correct me if I'm wrong but I don't think Alias ever really talked about how awful the whole doubling process would be? Like, the actual process itself would probably be pretty painful, sure, but remember going through puberty and having your body adjust to all that? Except this time your entire DNA is being changed. But not your brain, apparently. (WHICH, while I'm rambling, according to this report, you 100% can identify different brains from each other. In Alias, however, they say you can only tell if someone's a double through their eyes, which means that the person's actual brain is also changed, so I guess Alias just casually tried to tell us that souls or something of that ilk do, in fact, exist, and then never mentioned that again)
Which puts us in a very unique position! Because your brain's shape is now different, it's literal dna is different, and that does affect you as a person, except no?? It doesn't effect the doubles? As far as we see they're the same person. Ignoring the way more fun option of this does effect the doubles and maybe they start to show traits that the original had which would've been SO much fun but whatever, let's just say that your brain shape/makeup doesn't matter. Everything you do, everything that makes you you comes from something else. Your soul, your spirit, Rambaldi controlling you like a video game character, whatever.
This would make being a double really, really suck. Because your consciousness just got poured into this new body, essentially, which means that you have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA HOW TO USE IT. The proportions are just wrong, first of all. Maybe the original's legs are a little longer. Now you have to walk up a flight of stairs, and not only are their legs longer, maybe they're a little thicker. Maybe they have a bad knee that you never knew about. Maybe they work out a lot and their legs are way stronger than yours were. Even if you guys were exactly the same height and lived exactly the same way, you would still have fundamentally different legs.
But for the sake of argument let's give them the benefit of the doubt and say okay, so maybe you still have your soul/consciousness/whatever, but that just contains your memory and personality and what not. All of the physical aspects are controlled by your brain, which should be suited to your body either way because that's how the process works. (Disclaimer: I am not a scientist and have no idea what I'm talking about) Okay, fine. That's fair. Except...even if your brain can move your legs perfectly, wouldn't it still be terrifying to remember that this isn't how they normally move? Your body might be perfectly functional, but your mind still wouldn't be used to functioning it.
(And this is all very sudden, too! I mentioned puberty earlier, but that is something that a) still takes place in your own body, with your own brain. It's hormones changing, not DNA. And b) might come faster for some people, but you know, generally takes a little longer than a couple-hour long surgery)
Also if we were to go that route, what would happen if the original person say, had some mental condition? That's a brain thing, not a soul thing. Your physical brain is now the same as theirs, so would you inherit that too?
In conclusion: local idiot rambles about how Allison should've misjudged a step and fallen down a flight of stairs and gotten adhd from Francie.
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caffeinatedopossum · 1 year
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I don't understand why it's generally not socially acceptable to recognize your good qualities. Like I don't understand why it's bad to be a show-off or a know-it-all or to brag. Like I think most people know "those things = bad" but not why.
It also seems like people are always either waaaaay into one end of the scale where they are just so unbearably full of themselves and have preposterously high self esteem (and most people act like this is fine too? Like a lot of celebrities and white men specifically seem to be like this) and I don't understand why so many people respect them then. Or they're the complete opposite with self esteem way too low despite the fact that they have redeeming qualities.
I feel like maybe the reason it's considered bad to brag is because you might 'make' other people feel inadequate but see that seems like a stupid reason to me because the problem then is not that you stated an opinion of your own self worth but is actually that everyone else is conditioned to compare themselves to each other in a very unhealthy way. And I think instead of discouraging people from opening up about what they take pride in, what they like about themselves, what makes them feel happy or content or confident, maybe we could just be discouraging people from viewing those things as personal threats? Idk just trying to formulate some thoughts on this
#idk why but this feels like a very convoluted topic#like so many people are probably coming from different starting positions on this than i am and im afraid that might#make it be misinterpreted or something#like i feel like there definitely is a balance where some self esteem is too little and some is too much#it just feels like it is exceedingly rare to find anyone with ideal realistic self esteem and idk why#i also dont mean this in a way to say that every action is the responsibility of the people taking offense either#because obviously thats not how that works. its understandable to demand a certain amount of respect#and to accept that your words (even the ones you say about yourself) could negatively impact other people#and thats not necessarily on them for being defensive#idk social concepts are strange and foreign to me so im still figuring this stuff out and through an autistic lense to boot#so sometimes i feel a bit like im conducting a study or an experiment more than writing a blog post#im just trying to understand people because i need to#it seems like the overwhelming majority of allistics have absolutely no interest in why they do the things that they do#so i have to go around experimenting instead of asking direct questions about this stuff#because when i do ask direct questions they look at me like i just asked them if the sky is actually blue or if its just gasses up there#in case you are not the most common dimwit. the sky is both of those things. however when you ask someone a question#phrased like that about a topic they dont want to admit they dont know about. they will usually avoid the question or answer absurdly#its actually kinda funny you should try it sometime#now im distracted because i dont know enough about how the sky works and i need to know#anyways gonna go down a research rabbit hole methinks
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oh-katsuki · 1 year
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im going to be so fr.... i hate it when im shopping for something, perusing online or in person for stuff in my size and approximate measurements... and a skinny woman says to me “you should try poshmark instead” 🥺. u should look on there for stuff because it’s second hand 🥺 u should go to good will and thrift stores bc it’s more ethical 🥺 like i really wish u would be quiet bc u know damn well poshmark doesn’t do returns and that goodwill rarely carries good shit in my size. like ma’am, i’m fat and that transforms the ENTIRE way i shop for clothes compared to you. clothes are made for bodies like yours.... i’m expected to make do. 
#i hope im making sense i just..#sorry it is simply my BIGGEST pet peeve#like... it's already hard to shop in regular stores for things my size bc of my measurements#and to have a skinny person come up to me and say 'use poshmark to buy pants ' like they have just...#opened the doors of fashion for me... like no you have not.#i will still have the same exact problems as i do with every other store... except on poshmark i can't return the clothes#idk i just.... sometimes i think that a lot of thin people think that shopping for clothes as a fat person is the same as shopping-#when you're thin#when that is.... simply not the case#literally.... everything is different#and the fundamental difference is that clothes are made for skinny shapes whereas fat bodies have to compromise#idk i just... i have a lot of thoughts about this#but i genuinely hate being told that bc miss do you think i haven't already looked??#like i use poshmark for t-shirts and like... big jackets#everything else i need to be able to return#and i also think that they don't consider... what it's like to try and consume ethically under capitalism..#when you don't fit the general group that clothes or those sustainable options were made for#like any fat person can tell you how FRUSTRATING it is to try and thift for pants or shop for clothes#because all of those sustainable brands RARELY carry things in inclusive sizes#so to already STRUGGLE with that while shopping... and then to be told 'use poshmark instead... go to good will'#when those options... do not function the same for fat bodies... will never not be irritating#vent#tw: body image#tw: fatphobia
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