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sorryimanon · 4 years

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Character: Shouto Todoroki

Long distance isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Your boyfriend, Shouto, goes overseas on a special mission in America. Back home, you try to take advantage of the distance with a couple of pictures.

Warnings: 18+, phone sex

Word count: 4k

Shouto watched with somber eyes as you packed the last remaining suitcase into the trunk of the car, back still turned against him so he couldn't see your tears. Bakugou and Izuku insisted on driving to the airport together, taking into consideration that they were all traveling overseas to the same destination. The night before, you were being a stubborn brat, not liking the idea of sending Shouto off at the crack of dawn. He showered you with affection afterward, his body never leaving your touch. Making love didn't cross both of your minds. It would've hurt in the after glow knowing the distance that'll be between you for the months to come. The two of you decided to just lay lifelessly in each other's arms, limbs interlocking, fingers carefully tracing skin, and hearts beating in unison. Moments like that is what truly captured the relationship as a whole.

With your back still turned, Shouto saunters over and wraps his arms around your torso, along with his head resting on top of yours. You hummed at his subtle touch. Eyes drawn to a close, you ruffled his split colored hair, already imagining the smile forming on his stern face. It was always a miracle when you manage to witness Shouto genuinely smile without forcing it.

You turned on your heel and reposition Shouto's hands on your hips. "Call me as soon as you touch down in America. Okay?" you didn't care at how needy you sounded, anything involving Shouto and hero work gave you anxiety.

The arm holding onto your hip soon reached the bottom of your chin, tilting it slightly so your eyes can formally meet. His dark irises became glossy as you stared harder, trying to capture every feature before he leaves in case within those months you forgot what he looks like. Even though you had a separate album on your phone filled to the brim with selfies and funny pictures of him, mostly taking up your storage space.

"I promise sweetheart. Remember, this will be the shortest 6 months you'll endure. I'll be home quicker than you can say All Might," he said, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. The action made you blush and giddy, referring back to the ways he'd make you feel during U.A.

Subconsciously, you both lean in against each other, waiting patiently for who's making the next move. Your lips hovered over his, unsure if he wants to kiss goodbye or stay wrapped in your arms. A minute has gone by and you two stayed cemented in the same position. Fuck it, you thought. Who cares if it'll make you miss each other more. You harshly grabbed his face and leaned forward, preparing your lips to come into contact. But the loud beep emitting from the car made you both jump out of each other's grasp, knocking you backwards onto the cold surface.

Bakugou's head popped out comically from one of the windows, eyes gleaming with rage.

"Oi! Hurry up you dumbasses! We were supposed to leave 5 minutes ago!" he hollered, spit spraying out from this mouth.

You overheard Izuku, who was in the passengers seat, trying to calm down the explosive blonde. A pair of calloused hands slipped behind the back of your neck, crashing your lips to mount another. There's no hunger in the kiss. No teeth or tongue battling it out. Just pure passion burning within the languish kiss. Feeling satisfied, Shouto released himself from your mouth, leaving you breathlessly staring back at him in awe. With one last romantic gesture, your boyfriend rubbed the outer part of your cheek and pinched it between his fingers, smiling at your reddened reaction and shuffled towards the side door of the car.

"I love you y/n," was all he said before sliding the door shut.

You mumbled the exact sentiment as the car revved up and maneuvered out of your driveway. Shortly after wiping away some dried up tears, the car soon disappears from your line of vision, leaving you all alone on the driveway.

“All Might...” you whisper to no one in particular.

About 3 months into the trial of long distance, you were already experiencing the symptoms of postpartum-boyfriend-syndrome. Constantly crying yourself to sleep? Check. Going through his Instagram to make sure he didn’t delete any of your pictures together? Check. Texting him every hour on any given day to see how fast he’d respond? Check. Also, the inevitable weight gain from stress eating? Double check.

A couple of your friends noticed the sudden mood change when Shouto arrived in America that first initial month of separation. Momo for example, confronted you in the locker room at the agency one day, spewing about how you almost got yourself decapitated by a villain when your guard was down.

“I’m sorry Momo. My mind has been in the gutter lately. Shouto hasn’t texted me all day since this morning. I’m just worried this whole long distance thing is going to ruin our relationship,” you admitted , wincing at how incredibly clingy you sounded.

Momo began undressing herself, her lips caught between her teeth, clearly taking in what you said. Once she shimmied our from her hero costume, a devilish smirk rested upon her face.

“If you feel like your relationship is going grey, maybe try to spice things up a little. Ya know? Use the distance to your advantage.”

Your hands stopped themselves from unzipping your tight suit. “Hah? What do you mean by that?”

Momo chuckled, amused by how innocent you were acting.

“Come on, you know what I mean y/n,” she slipped on her everyday attire and closed the locker. “You know what they say, a picture is worth a thousand words.” With that she gave you a wink and left the room.

A picture huh?

Across from you was a massive mirror. Each end reaching the edge of the room, everything being showcased, including you. Sometimes you’d walk in catching a few of the prohero girls taking selfies. They all had one thing in common, confidence. Something you had before Shouto’s departure. It felt as if someone used an ice pick to cut away the very little self esteem you had left, leaving you with barely anything to offer anymore. You couldn’t help to compare yourself to the proheros Shouto has been working alongside with since being in America. American girls were a different breed. Everyone over there looks exactly the same but different somehow. You tried not to think too much as you resumed on unzipping your hero costume. Today you wore a plain black bra set underneath. You hardly put on anything skimpy or sexy since you’re practically on patrol everyday, resorting to your trusty sport bras.

You caught a quick glimpse of yourself in the horizontal mirror, gaping at the added fat in your chest area. All thanks to the weight gain, your boobs looked delicious in the bra. The lower half of your body was nothing to ignore either. Your ass filled up the small undergarments, cheeks teasingly spilling out.

A picture is worth a thousand words.

Momo’s words enticed you enough to grab your cellphone from the pocket of your duffel bag. Work hours was over for everyone in the building, so you weren’t worried about someone walking in on this compromising state.

You tried to mimic the poses you witnessed from the times you watched the girls do it. One hand on the hip, the other behind your head, along with angling your ass to the side. The pose was uncomfortable. How did they manage to hold this stance for longer than ten seconds? You took some pictures anyway, ignoring how awkward you presented yourself in the mirror.

Each picture you swiped through didn’t meet the criteria. Were these even good enough to send off to Shouto? He loves you no matter what, he reminded you everyday in fact, but your stomach dropped of the thought of him being revolted at these images. You quickly deleted all of the them and sighed in defeat. One more try.

Dropping down to your knees, you held the camera above your head, showing off every part of your body. You spread your legs a couple of inches, your cloth slit on full display. To add even more, you leaned forward a little bit to have your boobs almost spilling out from your tight bra. Through the camera lens, the top part of your nipples were visible. Surly Shouto wasn’t dense to not notice.

Your mouth was agape as you stared at the pictures you recently took. This person in the frame didn’t look anything like you. If you were to show this to Momo she’d be a proud mother.

Without hesitation, you sent a couple of the pictures to Shouto, leaving a cute little message at the bottom once they finally delivered.

Missing you extra today :) xoxo

You didn’t wait for his reply and started packing up everything in your area. Hopefully Shouto won’t be angry at your sudden bluntness, but he left you no choice. An acute noise came from your duffle bag. The blood rushing through your veins suddenly became very cold. It must be a message from Shoto, it has to be. You waited till you arrived safely home to check what he responded with. To your dismay, it was a reminder for next weeks meeting. You shuffled out from your car and headed straight to your shared apartment, a pout currently prominent on your face due to the failed mission.

On the other side, Shouto sat stoic in a plush chair listening attentively to one of the leaders reporting about the current mission. Next to him was a grouchy looking Bakugou, who was currently falling in and out of sleep in his seat. By no surprise Izuku was the only one in the group wide awake and full of energy. The trio has been traveling across the nation helping out with smaller hero agencies in hopes for there to be a stronger allegiance between the USA and Japan. So far it’s been excruciatingly draining on not just their bodies but minds as well. All Shoto wants is to feel the familiar warmth of your body pressed against his. His touch starving tendencies wandered into his personal life when Bakugou caught him snuggling the hotel pillows one night, mumbling your name over and over again. Pathetic as it is, he misses you so much. Although, he wouldn’t admit that out loud, he tried to keep you updated on everything that’s been happening. He has a hard time expressing his feelings, especially when it comes to you. So when he felt his bottom pocket vibrate, he half expected it to be a goodnight message from you, since you’re a couple of hours ahead of him. Nothing prepared him for the promiscuous photo you shared of yourself plastered on his screen, looking back at him with dilated eyes and flushed cheeks.

Blood rushed to the lower region of his pants as he pinched the screen to get a better inspection of you. He thought you looked absolutely beautiful in this vulnerable state, not to mention how your body perfectly clings to his favorite pair of underwear, every curve and beauty mark showcasing before him. Below the plethora of lewdness, a short message from you was attached.

Missing you a extra today :) xoxo

Stifling a groan, he began to type out a reply, stumbling on his words even in text. Before he could press send, someone slapped Shouto’s shoulder and dragged him to his feet.

“Come on half cold bastard the meeting is over. We’re free to go,” Bakugou grumbled as he pushes Shouto out of the cramped room, having Midoriya to follow suit. Bakugou shifted his gaze to Shouto’s phone, gazing at the gross nickname for you on the screen. Shouto angles his phone away from Bakugou’s peripheral vision, praying that he didn’t see your half naked body.

Shouto stuffed his cellular device into his back pocket again, awaiting for the right moment to text you back. Knowing the dynamic of the relationship, his silence is nothing out of the ordinary, so maybe you weren’t thinking too much into this.

Hours later and still no reply from Shouto. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, you figured he probably hasn’t seen it yet, but the “read at ___” has your heart twisting in a knot. You knew he was a couple of hours behind, but would it take for him to at least send a well thought out compliment. Maybe he’s in the midst of an intense battle? Or worse, hooking up with one of the American colleagues. No, Shoto isn’t like that. Being unfaithful is uncharacteristically unlike Shouto. You mentally slap yourself for painting your loyal boyfriend in a different light, all because of some stupid pictures.

Clearing your mind from anymore self sabotage, you did your nightly routine to get ready for bed. As you tucked yourself in, the bright light from your phone flashed, indicating a notification. Everyone in your contact list has already gone to sleep. Everyone excluding Shouto. Frantically, you reached over to grab the phone, swiping across the screen to view his message. The following text shot daggers through your chest.

Call me now

No mention of the photos you sent hours ago. It took him this long just to conjure up a cryptic message. Although, you were curious to see what he'll say to you once he picks up. You pressed the phone icon on his profile and waited, the ringing making you sweat with anticipation. He answered on the third ring.

There was an uncommon silence hanging in the air. On the other end of the call, you can hear the faint acute breathing coming from your boyfriend. You laid frozen in bed, cowardly holding in your breath to prevent any noise.

Shouto broke the silence and said, "I'm sorry for not texting you all day. There was an immediate emergency that lasted longer than we expected."

You nodded your head, but then caught yourself after realizing he can't see your movement over the phone, and let out a grunt instead.

"So..."

"So?" It came out more aggressive than you wanted it to be, but the constant cat and mouse game of today set you over.

"Are you mad at me?" He asked.

No. Not in a million years could you ever be angry at him. Yes, sometimes there's things he did that you wish he'd do better, like expressing himself instead of sheltering back in his shell. Or the way how you envied the relationships your coworkers had, their partners showing them off like it was second nature. Not once did Shouto verbally express his sexual desires. As selfish as it is, you wanted to explore more with him than just regular mundane vanilla sex. Sadly you knew his response was probably going to be lackluster. But no, you weren't mad, just jealous.

"I'm not mad Shouto. Just...very disappointed in you."

In the background, the definite click of a lock from a door rattled your ears. He's in his hotel room, you thought.

"Is this about what happened earlier today?" he started, dragging his tired feet to the hotel bed. "You know, the pictures-"

"Right, the only pictures I put any effort into just for them to be completely ignored by my own boyfriend."

The line went silent again. Even though he isn't here, if he was, he'd be glaring at you with his intense stare, those bi-colored eyes never wavering away from yours.

"You really want to know how I truly felt about those pictures you sent?" His voice dropped a lower octave, sounding as though he dipped himself in pure molasses. Rich as it is, his sudden change of tone aroused you, sending an involuntary wave of pleasure through your body, tipping to the peak of your sex. The only time you heard him sound like this was either when he's livid to the core or about to completely wreck your shit. Both would coincide with each other on special occasions.

He didn't give you enough time to answer, figuring you were too stubborn to reply, and voiced his inner thoughts.

"The fact that you even think I didn't appreciate the photo's is quite silly sweetheart. In fact," you can hear the clanking of metal on the other end. "It makes me sad that I'm not there to worship every inch of that body. Was that your plan all along? To get me worked up by how much I miss your touch?" Shouto struggled removing his pants, the tent forming beneath them restricting him to smoothly slip them off.

You tried to keep your excitement down by squeezing your legs together, almost to the point where they crossed. Soon your breathing became sporadic. Just picturing Shouto touching himself while you both were on call gave you an adrenaline rush. Knowing you couldn't touch him but just yourself intensified your arousal even more. Slowly, you dragged a lazy finger from your sternum to the area around your belly button, tracing small circles on the skin.

"What would you have done to me if you caught me in that moment? Taking those pictures," your sultry tone boomed through his speakers, almost taken back by your approach.

Shouto raised his hips and shimmed out from his tight work pants and started palming himself through his briefs. "Sweetheart, id do nothing but ravish you. Taking my sweet time with you....fuck...I miss you so much," he couldn't hold back the whine he trapped in his throat as soon as his finger swiped over his clothed slit. The sound alone triggered a warm sensation spreading down below, already feeling the wetness coating your panties. By now, Shouto’s fingers would be disappearing inside of you, scissoring and messaging your velvety walls till you broke out screaming, but you had to make do and resort to playfully teasing yourself.

"Ngh...I miss you too...S-Shoto."

"Are you touching yourself love?"

Both of you were far too gone in arousal, there was no point in holding back your sexual pleas.

"Y-Yes, but I wish it was your fingers instead."

Hearing those words coming from your lips encouraged him to shove his entire hand down his boxers, gripping the base of his cock with ease. A small gasp left his lips feeling the crisp, cold air of the hotel room hit his exposed member. He shifted his hand vertically, giving light tugs to it before pumping it vigorously. The sensation strained him to close his eyes, seeing nothing but you doing the work for him. Late nights in the various hotel rooms consisted of him getting off to memories of all the intimate moments you two shared together. Of course it was lonely, but he never resorted to surfing the internet of lewd videos of random girls. They just weren't you. But tonight, he could finally relieve himself to the sweet ambiance of your moans. And he definitely wasn't going to regret it in the morning like usual.

"Listen to me, go faster for me baby," Shouto instructed, "Imagine it's me touching you."

Your cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, fully coaxing your face in heat. You followed through and dipped your fingers into your sex, feeling the warm texture of your walls petting them. All those months without any sexual relief built up so much tension that the tightness within you restricted from anymore movements. After a few strokes, you loosen and manage to reach in far enough to the peak of your knuckles.

Meanwhile, Shouto's hand never grew tired at the tedious strokes, pre cum dripping till it reached his inner thighs. Your name kept spewing out from his throat like a mantra, like you were the only thing he prayed for at night. Despite his lack of moaning, he grunted with each pump, the built up causing him to breathe heavy as well. Generously, he held the phone close enough for you to hear the continuous slapping of skin, along with the combination of wetness. You didn't restrain yourself from moaning though. Every whimper, moan, and groan reverberated across his empty hotel room.

"You wanna know something?" He tried to keep his breathing at a normal pace, but he hastily kept pumping at quick speed. "Everytime I go to one of those dull meetings, I can't help but to imagine you riding me in front of everyone...ngh!"

The confession elicited a moan from you, along with your legs shaking due to the stimulation. Your head flew back and hit the pile of pillows, mouth agape as you added in another finger.

"I miss the feeling of being inside you. So...fucking...bad,” he was beginning to lose his voice , sounding as though he was in constant pain. Poor boy.

"I never took you as being so up front Shouto, what happened?" You challenged him through the phone.

"I guess you really don't know me baby," Shouto shot up from the bed and bent over, not once removing his hand from his member. "Fuck fuck fuck...I can't wait till I come home, so I can finally taste you."

The coil within you was beginning to snap. Snaking your fingers underneath your shirt, you started flicking your thumb over one of your perked nipples, still immersed into the idea that he's actually the one touching you instead. Toes curling and arms bunching up the sheets, you knew you were about to climax. Just by hearing his speech pattern, you can conclude he was close as well.

"I'm about- I'm about to cum S-Shouto!" You pathetically whine.

"Cum with me baby. I've been holding off for you."

Even during intense moments like this, Shouto's gentleman persona didn't fade away over the course the relationship. With the knowledge you have now, knowing he's been on the verge of relief, you pumped your fingers in sheer brutality, never once missing the g-stop. Throwing his head back, Shouto was now on his knees pleading for mercy from the pleasurable pain shooting up through his member. He let out an exasperated whine.

"Now baby, cum for me."

Then you felt it, the knotted tension within you disappearing. Everything around you looked white, like someone snuck in and painted your room a different color. You can faintly hear Shouto orgasming on the other end of the phone as you calm down from yours. He's heard you climax many times before, but hearing your angelic screams over the speaker made him cum harder.

A few minutes later and you two were now recuperating from the intoxicating session, harsh breathing overlapping each other. It felt like years later when he detached his hand, now coated in his own fluids and cramped up. You loosened yourself and removed the two fingers finally. They glistened with your fluid as well, giving off the impression it was just sweat.

"Y/N? Are you still there?" Shouto's voice alerted you awake, almost forgetting you didn't manifest him to finish you off. You grab the phone after cleaning your drenched fingers and propped it on the pillow next to your shoulder.

"Wow that was-."

"Amazing?" He finishes.

"Took the words right out of my mouth."

He mischievously chuckled, "I know. I heard it loud and clear a minute ago."

You audibly groan loud enough for him to hear while snatching the nearest pillow to smother yourself with.

"So, are you planning on sending any more pictures like that during these last 3 months?"

His innocent inquiry made you break out into a grin that stretched from ear to ear. Those pictures sprouted a future of appraisal from your boyfriend, who you thought would never voice his inner thoughts till the day he dies. You two also found a secretive kink to phone sex as you continue to explore with him during these periods of loneliness. Once he arrives home, he assures none of that is just a “phase” as you two kept venturing beyond to sext each other during important events.

A picture really is worth a thousand words.

(Truthfully, honestly, this is possibly the worst thing I wrote but someone asked for a cute little passionate session with Shoto specifically. I hope you enjoyed (?)

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beyoncesdragon · 4 years

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The disappointing Gender

Pairing: Bestfriend!Ashton x Reader

Warnings: shit ton of cursing, dont worry I love men, but women are just easier at times. Based on a real story, that shit really happened to me.

Summary: Some men are just straight up trash. And what’s better than to vent about them to your willingly listening best friend Ashton.

My Masterlist 🦋

(Gif credits: @ghostofmashton)

“I don’t know exactly what goes through your mind when deciding to finally peel your limp body out of your comfy sheets, go through the usually long, self-esteem-damaging process of “getting ready”, find an outfit you would feel comfortable but not underdressed in and then leave for a party. Let me be honest, I mostly think: at least let it be worth all this. And then maybe something like; maybe I’ll meet someone. “Someone” carefully and fully on purpose undefined because you don’t want to get your hopes up and then be disappointed. But “someone” secretly being a guy, optionally a boyfriend even, but just maybe.

“However, now you are at that party, ready to meet new people and you take a look around. You see many people; some you think are pretty in your eyes some aren’t. But that’s okay, that’s only natural. So then after a time, when you have met a few girls you get along with, you spot the “someone”. And your friends somehow knew about him and all that bullshit and tell you the teeniest bit of bloody information alright? And he, on top of that, seems to be interested, keep that in mind.”

I stopped for a second, taking a gulp of my water. The few ice cubes clicked softly against the glass when I placed it back down.

“Alright. Now, you chat with him, all friendly funny business, you develop a sort of insider joke. It’s funny and you think wow, it isn’t all that difficult to talk to boys, amazing. Eventually, you also had a few, and I don’t want to say advantageously but it does help.”

A giggle fell from my bestfriends lips, but I decided to just keep going. “I will again be honest, I was a bit…inebriated if I may say so and if you would want to take me as an example. However, maybe you flirt for a while, and it really all goes well, so well that you would’ve started to become suspicious, since it was you after all. Continuing, because you’re bloody sloshed, you don’t suspect anything, even though if you would’ve just listened closely you could’ve totally heard fate snigger.”

I earned an amused hum from Ashton for that, picking up my glass again. “Further on, one of your new friends disappears with a guy and it’s okay for you but not for her friend whom you also are friends with now. That, because the other girl actually does have a guy eventually. But she isn’t sure. So you go get her, and you sit down with the girls outside to have a chat. Because it’s important that she still has a good night and so on. During that amount of time, you selflessly neglect your guy. Not that he is your guy in reality, but you secretly might have planned on making him your guy.” After a big gulp I placed my glass back down again, the ice now almost completely molten.

“Suddenly, that bloke walks out, raising a single hand at you as an obvious goodbye. And you sit here, startled and a bit dumbfounded because what the fuck is he leaving already. Quick note; it was hardly midnight, the clock stroke twelve maybe two minutes ago. So you get up, approach him and ask, why in the love of Jesus effing Christ he’s leaving already. His response; well. He hasn’t been blessed with the best of experience with women.”

And annoyed frown settled on my face. “I mean what kind of excuse is that? I haven’t only met them good guys either, but do you see me acting like an antisocial scaredy-cat? Nope sir, because I am not that superficial, and you shouldn’t be as well because I am not “women”. Also, have I mentioned that my friends told me, that he was total slag, like a fuckboy freshly bred. Best experience with women my fucking ass. However, back to my example; you then are still a bit startled because he slips that he has been cheated on and all that godforsaken crap. And in your woozy, naturally kind-hearted state you are in, you do feel sorry and possibly even apologise for being so bold. Also, because you don’t want him to think bad of you, he is very attractive after all and you have not given up your hopes just yet.”

A grin had now settled on Ash’s lips, as he leaned back with his drink, the attention still fully with me. “Then he says something like; but it was nice to meet you, and asks you to say your name again, and you do so. Naturally you do ask him the same thing…and you may have forgotten the name already.” I added with a frown, desperately trying to remember. “Something with F and it sounded French or such. Don’t know, not important anyways. Just like his existence.”

At that, Ashton laughed out loud, but wisely keeping quiet. “Yeah you just laugh…however, he then throws that horrid line; we’ll see each other again yeah?

At you, and you might think cool. But how for the love of fuck, since you don’t have anything except for a name. So the thing you do then is, you scrap all of your…I don’t know confidence from off the bottom of your rotten self and ask, if he wants to at least give you his snapchat.” Ash let out a whistle but I waved him off.

“I’m not done yet. So you ask. And he just ignores your question somehow, can’t really remember how. The whole time he’s walking away from you backwards, I guess towards the busstation and you have to follow him like damn mongrel…however. You end up leaving it be and sprinting back to your friends telling them what happened. Because they “know” him, they know his Instagram, so you decide to follow him. But he is on private so you got to send a request. Done with a few clicks, in approximately ten seconds. So now he is gone, you feel disappointment bubbling up, because fuck.”

Ash nodded slowly, looking up at me since I got up impatiently from his couch. “Sounds fun?” he said in a more or less questioning manner and I shot him a dark look.

“Buzz off twat, the best part’s only coming.” Ash rose an eyebrow, leaning back expectantly again. “Next morning you go and check your Instagram, somehow curious if he accepted your request and what do you see? He fucking declined it! This bloody wanker skipped my music, stole my attention and wasted my fucking time, four hours of it!” Ashton broke out in a fit of laughter, nearly spilling his drink.

“Comedy at its finest, certificated gold. Platinum even. Oh Jesus Christ. And that all has obviously not happened to you, you just purposely told it like it did right?” I huffed annoyed, dropping down again. “Never, as if stuff like this would ever happen to me. I mean, I totally understand mankind, it’s just that you can’t fucking use any of them.” Ash giggled, a dopey grin on his face.

“Come again?” I rolled my eyes. “I said, that you can’t fucking use any of you gentlemen. Men are so disappointing, like get a grip on yourselves honestly.” Ash grinned, nudging me with his foot. “Haven’t you just said that he should stop being superficial because of one woman?” he teased and I gave him an angry glare.

“Cheating and just generally being international disappointments is something else. I slowly start to believe that you guys are just born with that twat-gene. It’s almost not your fault. It’s probably the Y-chromosome, would explain why women aren’t like you guys.” Ash shot me an amused grin.

“I don’t know if I would surprise you saying that the explanation why men and women aren’t the same accurately is rooted in our genes. To be specific, it’s even a matter of just those two chromosome, the X-chromosome and the Y-chromosome…” I groaned annoyed, aiming a pillow at his head. I missed, but the message was clear.

“Smart-alecky dimwit, get off my back. I need emotional support, because member belonging to your sex has wasted my time and, in addition to that, ruined your all’s reputation.” Ash just hummed amused.

“Is that so.” I nodded, pouting bolshie. “Then I suggest, you listen to Ariana Grande’s Thank u Next and some Beyoncé, maybe also Rihanna. They’ll support your idea of men being trash immediately I am sure.” I flipped him off immediately, even though he had brought up a good point.

“I am kidding sweetheart. I know men can be idiots, but so can you females.” I couldn’t help but throw him a derisive look “Yes, males and females can be difficult at times.” I mocked him and he just shot me a lopsided grin. “Now you get off my back, annoying brat. But you are over him?” I shrugged.

“I mean, I was never actively involved with him, so I guess?” he nodded softly. “Venting felt good?” I nodded quickly. “Always does. Thanks bud.” He smiled warmly at me. “Everything for my best friend. Mind if I quickly call Kaitlin…” as he saw my face he immediately rolled his eyes. “Oh your little girlfriend huh? Young Irwin’s a little whipped?” giving me the finger he got up and grabbed his phone. “Shut up. I’m right back you bitter prick.”

I laughed sitting up again. “I am not bitter, I am happy for you Ash. Furthermore, I don’t have any problems with taken people or relationships. The problems I have, start when selfish and inconsiderate assholes rub in the fact that they have someone, and start gushing about them. When I, as an admittedly slowly bitter, but independent single person, couldn’t give a shit or two.” Ash grinned at me, shaking his head slightly. “I love you, you madwoman. Also, I am sure you’ll find your guy and we can do all those disgustingly cute things best friends do when they both are in relationships.”

I scrunched my nose. “Like what? Double-dates? In this case, I’d rather stay single Irwin, and now get lost you need to call your babygirl or whatever. Our ice cream is melting and our friends-day is not over yet. So you better hurry your red-dyed, slicked back visage up.” I responded harshly but with a loving lilt to it.

“On my way, woman. Love you, don’t eat my ice cream.” I just huffed, waving him off quickly. “Love you too, you ashy bitch.” I then almost choked on my water when I saw his expression at my words. He grinned and shook his head, pressing his phone against his ear.

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first-edition-dumpster-fire · 4 years

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Okay, I’m in a mood and I just finished midnight sun, so I thought I’d put my current motivation to good use and hope it lasts. Let’s start with my opinions and thoughts on the characters of twilight. Part One; Bella Swan

Okay, but like, I actually love Bella Swan so I may be a bit biased but at the same time, I understand that she has flaws and I like to put my perspective on everything. For the most part she’s super unproblematic and her character (like all of the other characters) wasn’t done proper justice which is why I’m so glad that Tumblr has taken them into custody.

Honestly, though, Bella’s personality and characterization was on the fritz and complicated. She was entirely self-sufficient, a care-taker, chill, and ambitious. Like, sure, all she wanted to do was become a high school English teacher/college English professor and live in the sunnier places but man did she work at it. She had a whole ass plan that was derailed when she met and fell in love with Edward and found out about the supernatural. I’m gonna admit, really disappointed after I found this out and then realized she never discovered her dreams. Yeah, she made whole new dreams that she was really happy with and got a fulfilling life in the end but seeing Bella helping out a struggling writer or suggesting certain books to help with someone’s thesis would’ve been super cool.

But on the other hand, the books totally victimized her and made her into a damsel in distress. I know most of her problems were supernatural, scratch that all of her problems were supernatural, but she should’ve been given more power. Why make a heroine if she’s always hiding behind her love interests and never saves herself? Bella also drinks hella dumb bitch juice, which Edward had teasingly pointed out in the hospital after her tussle with James. (Really, it was one of the only things Edward said to her that wasn’t either hating on himself or saying something super shady (like insulting her intelligence or committing himself to her for life even though they’ve only been official for a day)) She will put herself into situations she might not come out of alive but cowers at the little things like needles and prom. Another example of her dumb bitch, self sacrificing, did-not-think-about-this-decision-nearly-as-long-as-I-should-have-so-now-I-have-to-work-with-what-I-got energy is her attempt to bare knuckle box and jujitsu her attempted rapists instead of screaming or running. Commendable bravery and determination, loses points for lack of brain cell use.

If it were me, I would’ve cut Edward off or at least made him work a lot harder than he did. She just let him off the hook whenever he did anything wrong for the sake of keeping him with her. Which makes a lot of sense actually. She’d never been a daughter really. She paid bills, she went grocery shopping, she took care of her house as well as her mother and herself. She’s never had someone take care of her or care for her in the romantical sense and in the giving sense. Most of the boys who liked her, were only attracted to her and wanted to know more about her to see if her interest matched their own. Not for the sake of getting to know her, understand her, but to see if she matched up to the pedestal they put her on. Edward didn’t do that, and I’m not saying their relationship was healthy because it wasn’t, but I can see and understand why Bella latched onto Edward so quickly even though it was super out of character from what we knew of her before their relationship.

Also, I really fucking hate how vulnerable Bella was in New Moon. Like, Edward left her in the fucking woods and she almost died. I would’ve been so angry, and she should’ve been considering that Bella had multiple moments in Twilight where she was displayed to have a temper and even sometimes considered violence against Edward when he pissed her off. She was broken, sitting around lazily and trying her damned hardest not to have a mental breakdown as to not worry her parents and friends anymore than she already had. Her self confidence was gone, she was already insecure, not believing herself good enough for the Cullens and Edward took advantage of that. He took advantage of the fact that no one had ever expressed romantic interest in her therefore she doesn’t have a fucking clue on how anything involving relationships are supposed to work. Bella was mature, Bella grew up too fast, Bella overestimated herself. And she was so emotionally stunted that instead of building up emotions, she held them down and decided to feel nothing. Then she met Edward and truly allowed herself to feel something. And it was too much, seventeen years of living as nothing more than an empathic caregiver took its toll on her and she felt everything at once and intensely. And when he left her, she felt that intensely too.

I don’t know why Stephanie Meyer wanted to further inforce that Bella was beautiful and desirable to the boy students and caused envy from the girl students, except for Angela. It was gross. Bella was so obviously heartbroken and vulnerable and emotionally unavailable but smeyer still had Mike ask her out multiple times and make Jacob’s crush on her grow, which was unfair. She thought multiple times that Jacob was family and made her feel like Bella again. He was a bright happy person with a good sense of humor and a sunny disposition and I felt like his feelings for Bella kinda put a hinder on a great character. Angela, Jacob, and Bella would’ve been an iconic trio of best friends and you can’t tell me otherwise. Bella, Alice, and Rosalie would’ve also been a great trio and that is a non-arguable fact. You cannot tell me that Rosalie would’ve held the same animosity towards Bella had she known what had happened to Bella in Port Angeles. Alice was already Bella’s best friend before they officially even met, so there’s that. P

I absolutely loathe the plot of Eclipse. The love triangle between Edward, Jacob, and Bella had never made any sense but then smeyer forced it even further and made it worse. That non-consensual kiss made me gag. That’s not Jacob’s character. Then Bella all of a sudden growing feelings for him made even less sense. Especially when it was so obvious that she was going to choose Edward over everything just as she always has. I loved the interaction between Bella and Jasper, though, and it has nothing to do with the fact that I ship them. It has more to do with the fact that this was the first unawkward conversation that they had ever had with one another. It wasn’t a exactly light discussion but it really pulled along how involved with every member of the Cullen family in some way. It was cool. The rest of the train wreak included Edward’s inane jealousy and even-creepier-than-usual behavior, the coercion into marriage and sex (because Bella didn’t respect Edward’s morals anymore than Edward respected hers) along with a pressured kiss between Jacob and Bella that was just bad. It ain’t a bad thing when someone doesn’t return your feelings. Jacob, honey, you’re perfect, just not for Bella (or Resume, smeyer). Then Bella and Edward begin planning their wedding, which makes no sense. Bella doesn’t want marriage, she’s against the institution of it. She’s already said that she loves Edward and wants to be with him forever regardless of how she does it. Why isn’t that enough for him? She doesn’t want to end high school with a marriage based on how her parents relationship ended.

Who else thought that Bella’s powers could’ve been cooler or that she shouldn’t have had powers at all? It’s too even. Two couples where neither have gifts and two couples where they both have gifts. It would’ve made more sense if she controlled possibilities or had a subtle way of making things go her way, like Siobhan from the Irish coven. She loved her privacy and separation from others and while that kinda back fired in a way- she was flocked around by others as soon as she walked into school -it also didn’t. For one, obviously Edward could t read her mind. Privacy and solitude from him at least. But at the same time, everyone was pretty much bending over backwards to be near her at all times. What if it was Bella’s subconscious ability acting up and making them want to give Bella whatever she wanted? Of course, since she was human, her abilities couldn’t have been working right, and instead of making people give her what she wanted, she made them have the inexplicable desire to give her what she wanted. And with Edward, he didn’t notice her lack of voice until he focused on her and couldn’t hear her inner voice. After she had set her sights on him. After she’d taken interest and her mind began to shape the reality around her to make her unmistakable and absolutely appealing to someone like Edward, someone who is perpetually bored and self loathing. By silencing her mind so he couldn’t read it and scenting her blood in a way that make it impossible for him to stay away. It’s just really suspicious how Bella never really has any problems that last more than a few days. Except for Edward leaving which-to her at least-was a huge problem. But she is human and doesn’t know that she even has powers so said powers are bound to fuck up somehow. Or maybe they didn’t, at least not intentionally. The beginning of New Moon featured Bella agonizing over her aging and the belief that Edward and the rest of the Cullens were all better than her. Her subconscious took that to mean that she didn’t want the Cullens around since they were unwittingly destroying Bella’s self-esteem which never really was that high to begin with. So the accident on her birthday never was an accident, it was Bella trying to protect herself because she does t know how to do anything else, she has no one to take care of and is being taken care of for the first time and doesn’t trust the feeling. Because we all know Jasper attacking her makes no sense. For one, he was a disciplined vampire army leader surrounded by bloodthirsty newborns, for another, he killed James with Bella lying in a pool of her own blood not three meters away from him, and lastly, he fucking drove her to the hospital in a hot car while she bled out. You cannot fucking tell me that Jasper just had a lapse in control, that the bloodlust of his family rendered him unable to resist. Nah, Bella just lost control of her powers that just so happened to be cooler than a shield. Because she learned how to master an ability that should’ve taken months and years to master in only a few months. The Volturi walked away and everyone except for Irina made it out alive, including the shapeshifters.

Anyway, in conclusion Bella is a BAMF who loses her brain cells over the course of two years.

#twilight renaissance #twilight #bella swan #edward cullen #jacob black #jasper hale #theories

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fuckyeahimbrown · 6 years

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Dying Inside (The war of grief)

by Deborah Schurman-Kauflin Ph.D.

I am sorry you have found your way to this article because more than likely, you are reading it because you are suffering. In an instant, your life changed forever. You heard the news that no one ever wants to hear, words so horrible that you can’t even process them. Maybe your child was killed. Perhaps your loved one was diagnosed with a terminal disease, or it could have been you who got the bad news of illness. Your heart may have been broken when the love of your life betrayed you. And let’s not forget the silent grief of a child who has been abused and withers inside. There are many horrors in this world, and you may be one of the wounded warriors who limp through life after your life was destroyed.

I have worked with families of murder victims and police for many years. I also spend time advocating for those who have incurable, painful illnesses. In all my years, I have seen so much suffering and witnessed the secret tears of those who life has left behind. This article is for those of you who know the pains of great misery and the reality of how the world treats you when you are down.

Anyone who has been through a real trauma knows how it impacts your life. Devastation surrounds you, and at the time you need help most, many times, you don’t get it. In fact for a large group, help never comes.

Instead of softened empathy, you’ll hear all kinds of platitudes of how life’s sucker punch will make you stronger. Others will say it is part of some big mysterious universal plan that you are not allowed to know about, and that you simply must accept it (get over it). Then some will say the trauma was a good thing to bring about change in your life. For those of you out there that have heard these words, you know exactly how it made you feel. This notion that having your heart ripped out can make you stronger is nonsense. Destruction weakens you. It is the nature of the beast. Pain and suffering do not fortify you. They act like an anchor dragging you further and further into a dark pit. At best, some days all you can do is survive.

The raw nature of true trauma goes much deeper than societies will allow. What I mean by that is those suffering indeed suffer alone. In our world, people are not interested in hearing about the horror stories of others’ lives unless the stories are packaged into neat one hour television shows. To say that modern society is shallow is terrible understatement. People have become quite psychopathic in their lack of empathy.

Truth is very ugly. Anyone who has lived through or is living through hell knows what a horrific event can do to you. It ruins who you once were, and you know you will never be the same again. When your life has suffered a fatal blow, there is no coming back from that. You can’t be who you used to be. That simply is not possible, and for people who surround you, such a notion is unacceptable. People want you to be the sister, the wife, the brother, the husband or whoever they once knew. But how can you be who you were before that horrible event? After and during trauma, you are damaged. You change inside which is difficult for others. This can result in abandonment by people you thought were your friends. So many times, a husband will leave a sick wife or vice versa. ‘Friends’ slowly migrate away. Thus the hurt individual gets a double whammy.

There are many theories about grief, and people are not shy about telling you how they think you should be coping. However, there is no guide book for how you must respond to tragedy. Having worked with parents of murdered children and advocating for those suffering from incurable illnesses, I have seen what the war of grief does to human beings. They become battered as if combat veterans. They take one ‘punch’ right after another while doing their best to stay standing in a world that just doesn’t care about them. People will say that they care, but when you look at their behavior, it tells a much different story.

Sufferers are told hope is frail but difficult to destroy. They are lectured about how they must ‘get over’ the tragedy because it weighs them down. This advice is particularly cruel to those who lost a loved one or those enduring a horrible illness. There is no getting over having your life shattered into little pieces. Reality doesn’t work that way. Sure it reads well in books and sounds good in classes, but real life is very different from the world of ideas. If you have endured such things, you won’t get over it. You can integrate it into who you are, but you won’t forget.

Society in general has become quite indifferent to suffering of others. We have been so desensitized by the world’s traumas that our fellow man has become an object to be ignored. Anyone who has had the misfortune of being diagnosed with a bad illness knows how the medical system treats those who are suffering. Beyond the misdiagnoses and incorrect labels, patients suffer almost every indignity. When doctors cannot figure out what ailment patients have, patients automatically get labeled as head cases. Imagine what that does to someone suffering from a painful incurable disease that has been undiagnosed. Or take the example of the mother whose daughter had been murdered and her case botched by officers who were overly anxious to go off the clock. As she cried for justice she was told that this is the way things are, and she needed to pick up a hobby to distract her. One therapist told her to pick up a musical instrument, and she could strum her pain away!

So many parents of murdered children or those who are sick have had ‘friends’ slowly slide away as if no one will notice their absence. The fact is such people don’t want to see what could happen to them. The suffering is an ugly reminder to everyone what can happen in life, and for the shallow, walking away is easy. Then they don’t have to see the ugliness and can walk through life with their blinders on. And it isn’t just friends who jump off the sinking ship. Family members scatter as well. These fair weather relatives slink away when the going gets tough, but should there be any improvement, they come trotting back as if nothing ever happened. Yet the person who was going through the trauma knows exactly what transpired and what their fickle friends and family really are. There is no forgetting that.

Life destroying trauma is not something that the sufferer can get over. It bores into their souls and creates a new worldview where people become the enemy because frankly, they are. Few truly understand them which leads to isolation and an increasing inability to relate. If people are kicked when they are down, the injury sticks.

I know this sounds so ominous. Real life is messy and complicated and many times cruel. How many times have you gone through something so unbelievably horrifying that you can’t understand how it could have happened? You become lost in grief, almost as if in a parallel universe where everything seems backwards. Nothing is right, and without fail, when you are at your lowest point, bad things keep happening.

However, you are not alone.

There are others like you out there. There are walking wounded all around you who have learned to keep silent about their suffering. The pain you feel can be lessened. I’m going to be honest with you and say that your pain will never fully go away. Your loss will always be there, but this doesn’t mean that you cannot have a life after a trauma. It won’t be the life you planned, and I know how painful that can be. Just getting out of bed can be the best you can do in a day. If you think that is not big deal, then look at it another way. If you got out of bed, consider a victory. You did something, and that can be a first step. However, it will not be easy to find a new way of living. There are many obstacles in your way. Yet just trying can help build your self esteem.

I met a woman who was the victim of two attempted sexual homicides. Yes, you read that correctly. She was the victim twice in her life. The first time she was in her late teens, an attacker broke into her home. He raped and beat her, leaving her for dead. She was crippled physically and emotionally from the attack. Almost twenty years later, she was attacked again. Raped and strangled and left for dead, she somehow managed to survive. She does volunteer work for victims when she can and has managed to find some happiness in her life by helping others. However, she was very clear to me that the pain of the attacks is with her every day. It is not something she forgets, and she is very angry with her family and the mental health profession.

Her family left her one by one as time went on. They uttered such phrases as ‘you are too bitter for me’ or ‘you need to move on’ when she was suffering from the long term physical effects from the attempted murders. Professionals were no better. Doctors told her she shouldn’t still be having such horrible headaches years later and that she should just get used to the pain that went along with her traumatic brain injury. They told her not even to ask for any pain medication because they weren’t going to give it to her. She went to a balance disorder specialist who was rated as being compassionate. He gave her one heart medication for her dizziness which didn’t work. When she went back, the doctor said he didn’t want to try anything else, and she should just learn to live with her condition. Doctors failed her and treated her like dirt.

Counselor after counselor dropped her when she wasn’t progressing the way they wanted. She didn’t fit neatly into a box, so they didn’t know what to do with her. The first therapist wanted her to take a nerf bat and hit the wall when she got angry. When this didn’t help her, the therapist suggested blowing bubbles to reconnect with her childhood. Needless to say, this didn’t do the trick. So off she went to counselor number two. Number two wanted the victim to explore how she played a part in causing the attacks. What did she do in her life that drew these killers to her? When she reacted badly to this, the therapist dismissed her saying that she couldn’t heal until she owned up to her role in the attacks!

Number three simply refused to take her on as a client because she was seen a trouble maker who had already been to two professionals. Number four wanted her to journal her feelings. She said that just upset her more, and the psychiatrist gave her heavy doses of antidepressants. This improved her mood slightly but did nothing to help her work through her grief. When that doctor had nothing more to offer, the victim kept moving to find someone to help. It took seven professionals before she found one who was sympathetic, didn’t suggest that she was at fault, and took the time to simply listen. The victim said the best thing anyone did for her was to listen. The bad advice just made her angry and did nothing to heal her.

What those who are on the outside looking in don’t understand is that trauma becomes a part of who you are and colors how you view life. There is no magic pill to make it go away. There is no one with an enchanted wand to set this right. It is on the shoulders of those suffering to make a decision to live. I know how this sounds, but it is true. You must decide that you want a life. It won’t be the life you imagined, but you can find something better than the misery you live in. Those who have been through a deep trauma understand that the happiness will always be tempered by a hint of sadness. Yet there can be something better for you. When you are in the depths of despair, it seems impossible. But if you try to find something that gives you joy, you can find yourself actually laughing and smiling. I know your heart has been battered, and you will always be guarded. This is part of who you are now.

I can’t say what will do the trick for you. Only you can find what can make you happy. All I know is that the best thing you can do is try to find something that you love to do. Try to find someone who is sympathetic who can help point out resources which can be more tailored to you. Someone who is suffering from your illness or someone who has lost a loved one may know a good therapist or group that can help you. Just the thought of reaching out can be traumatizing, yet taking control of your life by stepping out can be helpful.

Don’t give up. You can find your spirit again. Keep looking for something you can love. Only you can do that, and the good news is that you don’t need someone else to take that first step. You have the power to do that. Give yourself the gift of easing your pain by doing something just for you. And keep trying. Reward yourself for taking the baby steps because you deserve every reward.

#depression #social anxiety #grief #hopelessness #empty #sorrow #mental illness #loneliness #mental health #help #lost #dying inside

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icanneverbesatisfied · 7 years

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I Need Your Help-- Part Three

Word Count: 4800

Summary: your sister is getting married in two weeks, and your mother demands that you bring a date. Who better than broadway star, Lin-Manuel Miranda?

Notes: thanks SO much to @timesarehardfornewsies for proofreading and making sure this didn't suck. ❤️

Tags: @secretschuylersister @anthonyramosobc @withthatbitch @imwritingmywayout @tinyturrtle @chloehamiltonn

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, self esteem issues, a terrible mom

“Lin, wake up,” you shook him lightly, and his eyes fluttered open. Goddammit, his eyes are pretty. “Do you realize what we did?” His eyes widened a little bit, and a startling presence of mind seemed to grab him full force.

“Oh shit,” he sat up, beginning to scramble around the room to find his clothes. You followed suit, pulling on a pair of underwear and a shirt.

You turned around, running square into an extremely shirtless Lin. You'd seen him shirtless countless of times--you practically lived in his dressing room, it was bound to happen--but you'd never been pressed against him like this. He smelled good, you couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was, but it was good nonetheless. He had a mole on his side, why it took you a year in Broadway with him to notice, you had no clue. You were so in love with him that it was stupid.

“We should probably-- um-- get dressed,” Lin said, rubbing the back of his neck after taking a step away from you.

“Good idea.” You took several steps backwards, and grabbed a pair of jeans from your duffel bag. “Mom and Kalena are expecting us for breakfast, anyway.”

“Wait, they are?” He asked, the colour draining out of his cheeks. Why was he so bothered at the news?

“Yeah, it's no big deal,” you said, waving your hand. “Mom’ll probably just make comments on how much I'm eating, but nothing worse than that… in case you wanted to know.”

Lin said nothing in reply, choosing to remain silent.

The breakfast was going terrifyingly well.

Kalena had picked a little diner in town that always made great breakfasts, and that both of you had loved since you had been young.

Your mother hadn't said anything remotely cruel yet, although she had asked Lin questions about Hamilton and the writing process and had asked about your relationship. Somehow, your mom being civil had you more on edge than her usual commentary on your choices did.

And then there was Lin.

He never looked at you if you were looking at him, but you had caught him staring at you at least a dozen times. His eyes seemed a little brighter whenever he mentioned an intricately fabricated detail of your fabricated relationship.

After a while, you excused yourself to the restroom, and you were certain that Lin watched you walk away.

“So, Lin, I have to ask.” Lin snapped back out of his lovestruck daze at the sound of your mother's voice.

“I… yes?” He was expecting a question like ‘why would someone like you stay with someone like Y/N.’ But the question he was asked would have knocked him off his feet if he would have been standing.

“Do you really care about my daughter?” She looked deadly sincere-- her face set, her eyes casting a different kind of warning than their usually cruelty. “I don't want you breaking Y/N’s heart.”

Lin cast a terrified glance at Kalena, who looked back at him with the same terrified look, before shrugging.

“I-- I love her very much,” Lin said.

For the first time all morning, he wasn't telling a lie.

---

The breakfast passed quietly and easily after you came back, but you knew the day would be hectic. Your sister was getting married, which felt like the wildest concept. You could still remember building pillow forts and telling ghost stories. The idea of her getting married just seemed so unnatural. But you were excited. Kalena was happy, this was the best you could ever hope her to have.

Before you knew it, you were being whisked off with your sister and mother to get ready. You already hated the prospect of people seeing you in the dress your mother had mocked and criticized, but you'd do it for your sister. That's what you always did.

“Let's go over the schedule again,” your mom was saying, and you already felt panicked. There was no way your mother's mood at the diner was permanent-- there has to be something coming.

“We’ll get hair done-- Y/N’s, especially. That… mess… has to be dealt with, you're also getting makeup done professionally-- thank God.” Your mother continued on, and you wanted to screw your eyes shut and hideaway somewhere. You knew her good mood at breakfast wouldn't last.

“Y/N, you okay?” Kalena whispered, your mom still continuing on.

“Yeah, I'm alright,” you said, blowing out a breath. You would survive this, and then you'd go back to New York-- putting thousands of miles between you and your mother sounded great right about now.

Your mother hovered while your hair was being done-- the look was simple enough, but your mother felt the need to over complicate it. Every strand of hair had to be perfectly in place, every pin placed strategically.

Finally, after what felt like one million years, your mother deemed your hair ‘suitable’, and sat Kalena down to have her hair done. You took the time to properly look at your hair with a hand mirror.

Sometimes, your mother's relentless nitpicking paid off-- your hair looked great, small flowers and sparkling clips pinned perfectly into it. The updo kept your hair off your neck, the way you liked it, and it looked much more elegant than your regular thrown together buns and ponytails.

Your phone lit up, and you set the mirror down, switching your focus to your cell phone. You smiled when you saw a text from Lin, accompanying the dorky profile photo of him with his hair in pigtails.

You doing okay?

The message read. You didn’t want to worry him, but you knew he would be upset with you if you didn’t tell him the truth.

Decent. My hair somehow simultaneously looks like a “curly rats nest” and “a garbage man's forgotten pickup” but at least it’s done.

The reply from Lin came almost immediately after.

I bet your hair looks amazing + you do too. Wait, I dont need to bet on you looking amazing, I already know you do ;)

You smiled, feeling a blush rise in your cheeks, and shut your phone back off, setting it down on a countertop.

“Y/N, get over here,” your mother said waving you over. The makeup artist had arrived, and you were first to get makeup done, seeing as Kalena was still having her hair worked on.

Your mother sat you down, and immediately started on what she wanted for you.

“I want you to cover up any acne and scarring she has-- she had terrible acne as a teenager, she just takes well enough care of herself now to hide it-- hide her under eye bags, they look atrocious,” she continued to rattle on, but you began to tune her out, focusing instead on the humming of the air conditioner in the corner of the room. When your mother had finished prattling on, the makeup artist clicked her tongue while turning to look at you.

You could imagine what she was thinking, and all of it lead back to how in the world am I expected to make this mess look decent? But instead, she surprised you.

“You know,” she said, opening up a bag she had brought with her, “I think you look gorgeous the way you are now. Maybe a little bit of eyeshadow to bring out your eyes, but-- I really do not understand what that- that woman's issue is.” She clicked her tongue again, getting a start on your makeup.

“Believe me, we don't know what her issue is, either.”

“Personally, I don't think she would even notice if I didn't cover half of the things on her list,” she said, looking at your face. “You have almost no acne scars and no acne-- that I can see-- it's just bizarre.”

“Yeah,” you said, flicking your eyebrows up for a moment. “That would be the word.”

---

After both you and Kalena had been deemed worthy, you slipped into your outfit, before beginning to help Kalena into her wedding dress (a forty minutes struggle with laces and straps that involved mostly laughter and many curse words, some of which were newly invented). When the final strap was set in its place, you knew, it was truly wedding time.

You and your mother were leaving earlier than Kalena, since you wanted to be there and ready before Kalena would make her grand entrance.

The ride to the wedding destination was spent mostly in silence as you stared out the window. You knew your mother had gone over her mental checklist for you, and you couldn't entirely rule out a rude comment or remark yet, so you held your breath the entire way there.

Finally, you pulled up outside of the wedding, and let out a breath. Just one more day, and then thousands of miles between you and your mother.

You got out of the car, walking up to the wedding, still holding your breath.

---

It had been a long, anxious wait.

Lin’s day had consisted of breakfast, tux, waiting waiting waiting waiting.

He had talked to several of your relatives, and the highlight of the long period of waiting had to be your grandmother cursing loudly, in what Lin could only guess was Japanese.

Lin felt someone tap him on the shoulder, and he turned around to greet the stranger. Christopher's groomsman, John, was standing behind him.

“Look at Y/N,” John said, tilting his head in her direction. Lin turned and looked, and his jaw dropped.

You looked gorgeous. Your hair was pinned up, framing your face with dark curly wisps. Your dress looked amazing on you-- the jewels standing out and the skirt fluttering around your knees. The colour looked beautiful on you, lighting up your eyes. Overall, you looked gorgeous.

“I do not deserve this,” he whispered, watching you as you made your way over to him.

“You okay?” You asked, your eyebrows raised. “You look like you saw a ghost or something.”

“I…” he began, then shook himself mentally. You could never see how utterly head over heels he was. “Yeah, I'm okay. You look gorgeous.”

“No, I just look acceptable,” you said, waving off the compliment. “But you look handsome, Hamilton knows how to clean up,” you remarked, smiling at him.

“Apparently,” Lin replied, focusing on doing anything but staring at you. “When is Kalena getting here?”

“In about fifteen minutes. I'm just going to be waiting up there for her, she knew I'd feel uncomfortable doing literally anything else besides waiting,” you said, raising your eyebrows for a moment.

“How has it been with your mom? Other than the whole garbage thing-- which, by the way, is super wrong. Your hair looks gorgeous and so do you, love.”

“Thanks, Linny,” you said, smiling. “And she's been relatively normal. She didn't really say anything about the dress, but Kalena and I didn't really give her a chance to.”

“That's good,” Lin said, looking around.

“She didn't say anything in the car, either, even though I kept expecting it,” you said, knotting your fingers together and twisting them around.

Lin was about to say something when John walked up, looking at a watch on his wrist. “Hey, we have about five minutes. Lin, you should go sit, Y/N… you do your thing.” You smiled at John, and Lin nodded.

“So, I'm gonna go do my thing. Wish me luck?”

“You won't need it,” Lin said. “But good luck, anyway.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and walked back to his seat.

You took a deep breath, and followed John.

---

You seemed calm enough. Lin, on the other hand, was freaking out for you.

Despite how calm and cool you seemed, Lin knew you were panicking. And he knew it was because of everything your mother had made you feel about yourself.

Lin didn't even realize who was seated next to him until he turned around.

Your mother was sitting next to him, and Lin was immediately annoyed. Your mother was off putting enough, but then her always immaculate appearance made it worse. There was never a strand of hair out of place, her nails were always perfect, and there wasn't a speck on the dress she was wearing. It only made her judgemental nature worse-- this was a woman that knew exactly how to make every remark, then always have her own back covered to keep it from coming back around to her. The only true comparison he could draw to her would be that of Miranda Priestly and Lord Voldemort's daughter.

He turned back around, resolving to ignore her throughout the ceremony. He sent you a smile and a thumbs up, and you smiled back at him.

People in the small crowd began to stand up, and Lin followed. He caught sight of Kalena walking down the aisle, and looked back to you quickly.

He smiled at you one last time, and somehow, you knew that no matter what your mom could say about you now, everything would be okay.

As long as you had Lin.

---

The ceremony had gone on without a hitch, and the reception seemed to be going in much the same way. Your mother hadn't really talked to you yet, and you silently thanked whatever gods were listening for it.

You had mostly been busy talking with Kalena and enjoying the rest of your time here with her. You and Lin were leaving early in the morning. You had been looking forward to it the whole time you were here, but leaving also meant not seeing your sister. You wanted to be away from your mother, but leaving your sister again made you ridiculously upset.

“I'm going to miss you, Kale,” you said, both of you watching Christopher dance with his mom. “Seeing you was pretty much the only upside to this whole time being here.”

“You're not going to have to miss me for long,” she said, and you turned away from the dance floor and looked at Kalena instead.

“What?”

“Christopher and I are hoping to move to New York in a few months,” she said, and you lit up like a Christmas tree. “We’re aiming to find an apartment in your area by January.”

“Yes!” You shouted, pulling your sister into a hug. “Oh my god, I can't wait.”

Kalena pulled away from the hug. “You should go dance with Lin.”

“No, no, no. I don't dance,” you said, then immediately stifled a laugh.

“Y/N,” Kalena said, looking you in the eye and grabbing onto your arms. “You are a dancer. On Broadway.”

“I know,” you said, rolling your eyes at yourself. “But it was worth a shot, right?”

“No,” Kalena said, shaking her head. She grabbed your hands, pulling you out of your chair and pushing you softly in Lin’s direction. “Dance with him.”

“Fine,” you grumbled, making your way to Lin, twisting your fingers together nervously. You stopped in front of him, smiling at him nervously.

“Hi,” he said, giving you a confused look.

“My sister demands that we dance together,” you said, thankful that you managed to get the words you. “And she's literally staring at us with a look of murder in her eyes, so we better dance.” Lin shrugged, but grabbed your hand anyway, leading you onto the dance floor.

One of his hands rested on the small of your back, the other on your hip, rubbing small circles on your side with his thumb. Your arms were around his neck, and you resisted the urge to make a bad joke about this being just like dancing in middle school.

“You look gorgeous, by the way,” Lin brought up, smiling at you.

“No, I really don't-”

“You can't say that in reply every time I call you gorgeous, you know,” he said, laughing a little. “No amount of denial can change just how stunning you are.”

You could feel your blush began, and resisted the strong urge to hide your face in your hands. Your ugly blush had been something your mother drilled into you to hide for so long.

“Hey, about what happened last night--” Lin began, and you cut him off.

“You don't have to worry about it, Lin,” you said, blushing an even deeper shade than before. “It's not that big of a deal.”

“I kind of think it is,” he said.

“I don't want anything to change with us because of it,” you said. You were certain that anything you felt for Lin besides friendship had to be unreciprocated. “You're one of my best friends, Lin.”

“Yeah, but I was thinking--” you knew that whatever Lin was going to say had to be important. So, naturally, the universe had to screw you over. The sound of a microphone being tapped cut Lin off, and you turned to the source of the noise.

Your mother, with a wine glass in her hand, was standing at the microphone.

“Oh god,” you whispered, already scanning the room for any escape route. Everything about her standing there screamed danger, and your first impulse was to run.

“I would like to make a toast to my daughter on her wedding day,” your mother said, and you took a deep breath, digging your nails into your palms.

“Kalena, I watched you in high school meeting and falling in love with Christopher, your lovely husband. I have never seen two people more meant to be together.”

“Not too bad so far,” Lin whispered, and you weren't sure if you were meant to hear it or not.

“I think we can all agree that the wedding was beautiful-- I'd also like to say something to my younger daughter, Y/N.” Your mother searched you out in the crowd, and Lin immediately wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his side. You dug your nails deeper into your palms.

“Y/N, I haven't been the best mother to you, and I have no reason for it. Just know that… I love you very much. You looked gorgeous today, and I hope that you can see it yourself,” she said, nodding her head at you for just a moment. She turned back to Christopher and Kalena and continued talking, but you heard none of it.

Your ears were buzzing. You had no idea how to process what you just heard, and did your mother really call you gorgeous?

“Y/N,” Lin said, grabbing one of your wrists. “You're cutting your palms open.” He uncurled your fingers, revealing your palms. You'd opened up the barely healed cuts in your palms, and pushed them much deeper, blood coming up to the surface in a small amount.

“Oh shit,” you cursed, holding up your other hand to examine your palm. They were in much the same condition, and you wanted to punch a wall.

“C’mon, I'll help you clean these up.”

---

You were sitting on the tiled bathroom floor while Lin cleaned your palms with antiseptic from a first aid kit he had found outside the bathrooms. It stung, but you knew it had to be done.

“Y/N, you have got to stop doing this,” he muttered, holding your hand up to the light so he could look at it.

“I know,” you replied. “I just… panicked. And she said nice things-- for the first time in my whole life,” you said, leaning your head against the cold tile. “I just… didn't know how to react.”

“I get it,” Lin finished wrapping a bandage around your hand, before kissing your knuckles. “You ready to go back out there?” He hadn't let go of your hand, and you didn't want him to.

You took a deep breath. “Yeah, I think I am.”

---

The rest of the reception passed quickly. You and Lin left around eleven, and collapsed in bed nearly as soon as you were out of the shower.

You woke up early the next morning, packing everything you hadn't already packed, and left for the airport.

You hugged Kalena goodbye for what felt like ages, until finally you had to board the plane.

You had never been this torn up about leaving your hometown before. You had always been excited about leaving your mother in your dust, but after what she said during the wedding, you were mostly conflicted. But, the excitement about Kalena moving to the city helped quite a bit.

The first half hour of the flight was spent in silence. You flipped through a magazine and Lin scribbled into a notebook.

“Okay, the silence is killing me,” he finally said, closing his notebook and grabbing the magazine out of your hands. “We should talk.”

“About?” You asked, turning to look at him.

“Um…” he said, biting his lip. “Okay, you know more about me than I know about you, so can I ask you some questions?”

“Shoot,” you said. As far as activities to pass the time went, this shouldn't be so bad.

“Okay… first crush?”

You laughed, and pushed your hair out of your eyes. “Okay, so I was in first grade and he was blonde and ran the fastest. Total chick magnet, all the girls had crushes on him.”

“Are you serious?” Lin laughed, smiling widely.

“Dead serious,” you said. “I think his name was Colin or Corey or something.”

“You don't even remember his name,” Lin scolded. “Must not have been that cute.”

“I think now he's a pharmacist,” you said. “Kalena might've mentioned it once.”

“Pharmacy isn't as cool as Broadway,” Lin pointed out, winking at you.

“This is true,” you admitted. “Next question?”

He thought about it for a second. “Speak any other languages?”

“Yeah, actually,” you said, nodding.

“Really?” He said, looking surprised. “What do you speak?”

“I know enough Japanese to understand my grandmother-- my mom's mom-- when she shouts Japanese swear words,” you said. “And I also know Hawaiian. My dad's parents taught me.”

“Can you say something in Hawaiian?” He asked. You knew by his body language that he was completely focused on everything you were saying.

“Okay… um,” You thought about it. It finally hit you-- you couldn't tell him you were in love with him in English, but you sure as hell could in Hawaiian. “Aloha au ia 'oe,” You said, smiling at him as his face lit up.

“That is the coolest thing ever,” he said. “I don't think I've ever met someone who speaks Hawaiian.”

“Quite odd. I know many people who speak Spanish,” you said, shrugging with a look on your face.

“It's a small world,” Lin replied. “But what did you say?”

You panicked. You, for some stupid reason, had not anticipated him asking you the meaning of what you said.

“It meant that you have ink on your lips,” you lied. You didn't even think there was even a Hawaiian translation for that, but it was better than telling him the true meaning. “Right here.” You reached out, swiping your thumb along his bottom lip, effectively removing the mark.

“I gotta stop chewing on pens,” Lin said, laughing nervously and rubbing the back of his neck. His face was turning red, and you imagined yours was as well.

“Do you have anymore questions for me?” You asked, hoping to relieve the awkward energy.

Lin started spitballing seemingly random questions at you. Between the laughter and the awkward questions about your high school love life, it was almost like nothing had changed at all.

If only it could stay that way once you got off the plane.

---

“Here we are,” Lin said, and you stopped in front of your apartment door. “I… um… I guess the whole fake relationship deal ends now?”

“It ends once I step through my threshold,” you said, laughing to yourself. “You could carry me through, but that wouldn't change the inevitable ending.”

The word inevitable hit him like a slap and he could almost feel his heart stinging. Nothing was inevitable. And even so, he found himself shaping the words goodnight, and telling you to sleep well, that you and him would have a show to do tomorrow.

He watched you walk into your apartment, his mind feeling disconnected from the rest of him. Your door closed with a click, and he suddenly seemed to jump back into himself, everything clicking back in place as he pushed your door back open.

“Lin, what're you--” You were saying, setting one of your bags down on the couch.

“This doesn't have to end here,” he said, taking a step closer to you. Still staying close enough to the door to have an escape route. “We do not have to stop being something but it does have to stop being fake because god dammit I'm in love with you.”

“Lin-”

“I've been so stupidly in love with you since I watched you dance through your first show and Tommy yelled at me for paying more attention to you than I did my lines,” he said, his sentences rambled and barely put together, exclaimed into the air in one quick breath. “And then I complimented you on your stellar first performance and you smiled so big and your eyes crinkled at the corners and you laughed but thanked me anyway and we were friends-”

“Lin-Manuel-”

“I'm not finished,” he said, and could almost laugh at the look on your face. “And then months later you asked me to your sister's wedding because your mother is the worst human on Earth. And you dig your nails into your palms and I have to stop you from doing that, and your mother makes you cry in the middle of the night,” he took a breath, sure he was losing his mind. “And I hate everything about that but by god if you're going to be doing it then I will never stop being the person that uncurls your fingers and kisses the cuts, and that holds you when you cry. Until-- until you don't have to do that anymore.”

“Lin,” you said, wanting to cry and laugh all at the same time. “Lin, you unbelievably ridiculous man.”

“I…” whatever he had expected you to say or do-- say no, throw him from the apartment, hand in your resignation to Hamilton, never speak to him again, just to name a few-- he hadn't expected that. He also didn't expect you to cross the room in a few steps and take his face in your hands and kiss him like the sun wouldn't rise in the morning.

For just a hair’s breadth he didn't respond to it-- his body felt like it was overload-- and then finally his arms unfroze and his mind unlocked and his hands were tangled in your hair and this was what he least expected but hoped hardest for.

You pulled away first, taking a deep breath and pressing your forehead against Lins. Your eyes were focused on his lips, and he could've sworn that his heart was smiling.

“If you couldn't gather it yet,” you whispered, and Lin could feel your lips barely brushing his. “I love you too. Aloha no au ia 'oe.”

“Thank god,” he said, pressing kisses all over your face. “What does that mean?” He whispered, his lips still against your forehead.

“It means I truly love you,” you replied, laughing as Lin pressed another kiss to your forehead. “And what I said on the plane had nothing to do with ink-- it actually meant I love you.”

“I am a fool,” Lin said, laughter following the sentence. “But even fools need rest, and I'm feeling the jet lag. How does a nap sound?”

“A nap sounds amazing,” you said. “I'll go change into pajamas, you know where the bedroom is.

You changed quickly, pulling on one of Lin's old shirts that you had stolen from the theatre and a pair of sweatpants to sleep in, and walked into your bedroom. Lin was already half asleep, tucked under your fluffy comforter.

You giggled, but slid into bed next to him, rolling over and closing your eyes. You felt Lin's arm sliding around your waist and pulling you against him.

A few days ago, you would've freaked out-- too worried about exposing your ridiculously huge crush on him-- but now there was nothing left to worry about. You smiled, knowing just how Renée, Jasmine and Phillipa would react when you told them tomorrow.

“Y/N,” you heard Lin mutter, his voice sleepy sounding.

“Lin,” you answered, your voice reflecting just how content yet exhausted you were.

“I'm so glad you asked me for your help,” he whispered, pressing a warm kiss to the back of your neck.

“So am I,” you said, smiling bigger than before. “So am I.”

#lin manuel miranda #lin manuel miranda x reader #faking dating AU #roses writing

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eikatsukiyomi · 7 years

Text

Marinette, Twice Exposed

(In response to prompt: “This is damaging to my self esteem. I hope you know.” Submitted by howlwiththerain)

Marichat and Adrienette fluff

Rated T (for mild language and sensuality)

Notes from the author: I fully intended for this to just be a drabble, but I got so invested in building the exposition that it turned into a full-fledged fic! I’ll be posting this on FanFiction as well, since it’s about time I had more than one fic posted there!

Hope you enjoy!

Next Chapter >

Chapter 1: Cars, Pigeons, and A Chocolate Shop

There was nothing unusual about yesterday's fight against Hawk Moth’s latest supervillain...certainly nothing to suggest that Chat Noir and Ladybug’s partnership would be irrevocably changed that day.

No matter how often he imagined how wonderful it would be if just one or two select things were different between them (the first being mutual feelings of love and the second being the sharing of each other's true identities), Chat Noir had been nothing but the best partner for Ladybug he could be. Whatever she needed him to be or do at any given moment, he was there in a heartbeat to provide, be it another opinion, a distraction, the destroyer of an obstacle in her way, or to take a hit she couldn't afford to take... and all the while, since the day she unknowingly stole his heart away, he was content to wait forever for her to fall for him in return.

As much as he wanted to know who his lady was underneath that red and black-spotted mask, and to tell her who he was and how hopelessly in love he was, he understood that protecting their secrets was part of protecting each other, and the rest of the city of Paris. But when the time was right...when there was no more reason to hide from Hawk Moth, maybe...he would know. Because she loved and trusted him...

Not because he just happened to see her detransform behind the same parked car he had been about to hide behind.

To be clear, he had not been following her (he insisted as his Kwami, Plagg scolded and jeered at him while snacking on his third piece of Camembert that day at the same time)! They had left the scene and gone their separate ways in almost opposite directions as they always did. He had barely cleared the first rooftop when he realized he was heading straight towards the TV1 helicopter on its way back to the broadcasting station. If they had seen him going anywhere in a hurry, they might have tried to follow him in the hope of capturing more footage, so he had abruptly turned around and started looking for the nearest safe hiding place in the opposite direction, completely forgetting that Ladybug had gone the same way.

He had dropped down in front of a chocolate shop, scattering a trio of pigeons on the sidewalk, and ducked down in between two cars parallel-parked by the sidewalk. His Miraculous beeped one final time before his transformation dissolved and dropped a tired and grouchy Kwami into his hands. Adrien was rifling through an inside pocket of his jacket for a piece of Camembert when he heard the whiz of Ladybug’s yo-yo and the soft thump of her feet touching down (scattering the pigeons again, from the sound of flapping and affronted coo-ing) right on the other side of the car he had his feet jammed up against. He had frozen, alarm bells going off in his head, and stuffed Plagg in his jacket just has he heard the sound of what could only have been Ladybug detransforming less than two yards in front of him. He held his breath, and then heard the sounds of her voice and soft footfalls coming down the sidewalk.

“Maybe this shop sells cookies?”

“Maybe,” said a tiny, tired-sounding voice. “But it’s a chocolatier, not a bakery…”

“If they don't have anything for you, Tikki, you might have to wait until we get home. Is that okay?”

“I’ll be fine! Your parents’ chocolate chip cookies are worth waiting for!” replayed the tiny voice, sounding cheerful and reassuring in spite of its owner’s exhaustion.

Adrien could feel his heart pounding in his ears.

Please don't see me, please don't see me, just go on in and I’ll be on my merry way back to my own home...still not knowing who the love of my life is…

His heart actually throbbed painfully with longing at the thought. Adrien shook his head and ran both hands through his hair absentmindedly, now hoping he wasn’t about to lose his mind over the internal conflict raging between the responsible and the romantic sides of his brain.

For better or worse, the decision was made for him two seconds later.

By the time he recognized the sudden but familiar sensation of a tickle in a runny nose, reflex had taken over and he let out a sneeze loud enough to send the pigeons flying into the air for the third time. With no cars driving by in that moment, there was no way Ladybug hadn’t heard it less than three meters away.

“What was that?!” Ladybug’s voice demanded in a panicked squeak, just loud enough for Adrien to catch. “Where did that come from?!”

A car came around the corner of the block and Adrien used the noise as cover to fling himself face-up on the ground, grab the underside of the bumper of the car behind his head, plant his feet, and, ignoring the gritty scrape of the pavement, shuffle himself backward under the car behind him. He covered his nose and mouth with one hand to muffle the sound of his breathing and prayed to Mr. Pigeon that he wouldn’t inhale any more pigeon dandruff. Eyes bugging out in panic, he eyed the sidewalk visible to his right and waited, straining his ears for any sound of footsteps.

With the sound of the passing car fading away at the end of the end of the block, Adrien was able to catch Ladybug’s voice murmuring, “I don’t see anybody...well, there’s a lady with a little girl in a stroller across the street, but that sneeze sounded male…maybe it came from around the corner?”

“I don’t see anybody looking at you funny or acting strange, do you?” asked the tiny voice.

“No…”

“Then it’s probably nothing we need to worry about…” the tiny voice mused, still sounding slightly concerned but clearly trying not to be paranoid and worry Ladybug. “Nothing inherently dangerous about someone sneezing…”

“I guess, but…” Ladybug’s voice, though still tinged with trepidation, sounded somewhat distant now...almost contemplative, like there was something else on her mind. There was a moment of silence, broken only the sound of another car driving by, and then Adrien heard the soft scuff of hesitant footsteps...in his direction.

What is she doing?! Why?! Oh, crap, I’m so screwed...if I so much as move my head, she’ll hear me unless another car drives by! What do I doooooo!?

He saw a pair of girl’s feet in pink ballet flats walking slowly and hesitantly towards him, and then stand on tip-toe with her weight on mostly one foot. He guessed she was trying to see over the front of the car he was under, perhaps to see if there was someone else across the street that the parked car had blocked her view of. As long as she didn’t think to crouch down and look under the car, maybe he could still get out of this…

Wait...did he recognize those shoes from somewhere…? There was something undoubtedly familiar about them, though he couldn’t put his finger on why. He could tell they weren’t nearly expensive enough to be Chloe’s shoes (Well, of course they aren’t Chloe’s shoes, there’s no way she could be Ladybug...I mean, I’d recognize her voice if she was! Adrien admonished himself). Maybe it was someone in his class? But then wouldn’t he have noticed her before?

“I must have imagined it…” Ladybug’s voice muttered, jerking his attention back to the present. She seemed to relax, coming down from tip-toe, and tracing the sidewalk back and forth in front of her. Somehow it struck him as a very wavering, uncertain gesture, very unlike Ladybug’s usually confident and determined body language...except, he remembered she hadn’t felt fully confident and determined from the beginning: she had started out at least as awkward and fumbling as he had the first time he became a superhero with superpowers, and she had her moments from time to time when she felt unsure, even scared. He couldn’t recall any specific instance when he had seen Ladybug make this gesture, but somehow it still didn’t clash with his image of her...even Adrien wasn’t sure why.

Somehow I never got around to wondering what kind of shoes Ladybug might wear day-to-day… Adrien mused, beginning to relax a little bit now that it seemed she wasn’t going to check under the cars for him. I don’t know what I would have expected, but those are cute shoes...aww, I wonder if she likes the color pink...does she actually have a girly-girl style in everyday life?! That’s...so cute! I wonder if she’s more of a skirt or pants kind of girl…? She’d probably look gorgeous in anything, honestly...or adorable! Or both!

Adrien’s impromptu daydreaming jolted to a halt as the girl in pink flats who was Ladybug stepped back and started walking back the way she came, back toward the chocolate shop. He waited to hear the clunk of a push-bar or the tinkle of a doorbell to indicate she had gone inside, when he heard the muffled sound of what sounded like a cell phone ringing. He didn’t have his with him, so it must have been hers.

“Oh, crap!” Ladybug hissed. “That’s probably Alya. I gotta--Ack!”

Her phone--a plain white one with no case or charms--clattered to the sidewalk, and Adrien couldn’t help but wince (I’d bet my own phone that it’s broken now...hope she can get a new one…). Adrien saw Ladybug kneel to pick it up, and he realized a split second too late that keeping his eyes on her feet had been a bad idea.

He could only see her legs from the knee down as she knelt down, but it was enough for him to see that she was wearing capris in bright pink stretch denim with turn-ups lined with white fabric patterned with pink dots. An arm came into view, picking up the phone; there was no sleeve of any kind visible from his position, but it wasn’t necessary. Adrien would recognize those pant legs anywhere. His eyes widened and a soft gasp of shock escaped him (thankfully not giving away his position).

Marinette…

She stood up again, grumbling something about a protective case, but Adrien’s brain, which was currently functioning at about 40% its normal capacity, was refusing to process any sensory input.

Marinette…!? Marinette is...Ladybug…!?

Instead, his head was swimming with memories of moments spent with Ladybug, and with Marinette. It wasn’t helping him process this revelation any better, just filling him with an absolute maelstrom of emotions that he didn’t have the presence of mind to separate and identify.

Ladybug’s been sitting behind me in class this whole time?! I’ve been sitting in front of Ladybug this whole time?! LADYBUG IS IN MY CLASS?!?!

A familiar, sulking voice piped up, sounding like it was coming from far away.

“Listen, kid…I get it. You’ve just had a big shock...”

While Adrien’s brain was slowly restoring its lost connections to his senses, Plagg’s voice basically failed to reach Adrien’s network before his request timed out.

I modeled a bowler hat that LADYBUG MADE!!

“But you’ve got plenty of time to freak out about it when you get home. Right now, I have pressing needs that are more important!”

Oh my god, I’ve played Ultimate Mecha Strike III with Ladybug!! IN HER ROOM!! AND SHE GAVE ME HER LUCKY CHARM!!!

“Hey! I’m hungry! Gimme my Camembert!”

Adrien finally snapped out of his trance and awkwardly fished out the piece of cheese he had meant to give Plagg earlier. Gently pushing Plagg back inside his jacket, Adrien started working his way out from under the car. He realized as he finally stood up that his white jacket was stained dark grey on the elbows (and without a doubt all over the back and the seat of his jeans) from scuffing against the road. He hoped he wouldn’t have to dodge any awkward questions from Nathalie or his father about it.

He turned toward the chocolate shop, where Marinette...Ladybug...had gone to find food for her kwami. He stared at the window display, which prevented him from seeing inside, and just stood there, his mind entirely blank once again, except for visions of Ladybug...and Marinette.

“You gonna stand there until she comes back out?” Plagg asked pointedly from inside his jacket.

“Oh, shoot!” Adrien jumped, remembering that that he was supposed to be at home until 2PM, when he was scheduled for a short photoshoot at the Trocadéro. He had left his phone behind, so he would just have to hope he could still make it back in time. “I gotta get back!”

“Yup,” Plagg grunted, unconcerned as always with Adrien’s responsibilities. “I assume you’ll be transforming again, so just don’t forget to feed me again when you get back.”

Yeah, I know! Don’t worry!” Adrien assured Plagg hurriedly. He turned and vaulted over the front of the parked car to crouch down right where he had hidden before. “Plagg, transform me!”

The trip back took him only ten minutes, but he was lucky not to have smacked into the side of a building in his distraction; his mind was filled with racing thoughts of both his partner and his classmate, who he now knew were one and the same person.

Adrien managed to get back and into his bedroom with a few minutes to spare. He used this time to change clothes and make sure there was no incriminating dirt in his hair or on his face. He got another piece of cheese for Plagg, but was called downstairs by Nathalie before he could eat lunch. If his stomach growled during the shoot, it wouldn’t mess up the shots, at least, he thought. But then, Adrien also knew that Plagg would have been just fine going without his cheese until after they got back from the photoshoot.

Adrien couldn’t remember a time when he was more distracted during a photoshoot. His brain kept replaying the mind-blowing revelation from in front of the chocolate shop over and over and over, broken up by random flashbacks of moments fighting by Ladybug’s side, and moments spent in Marinette’s company, mostly at school. He was trying to merge his internalized images of Ladybug and Marinette together, but he knew each of them from completely separately facets of his day-to-day life, each of which he lived as very different versions of himself! Even in hindsight, he couldn’t think of anything that linked the two girls. Sure, it was now clear as day that, in fact, they were the same person, and it actually explained a lot the longer he thought about it, but they still just seemed so different...it wasn’t that he couldn’t see Marinette as a superheroine, or that he couldn’t see Ladybug as a high school student with many creative talents; his brain just had too much trouble...fusing them? He couldn’t even find the words to explain his thoughts to himself.

Maybe it was because his stream of thoughts were interrupted by the photographer so often; he would space out and stay in one pose for too long, requiring the photographer to recapture his attention. Once in awhile, he didn’t hear what the photographer was telling him for how to alter his pose, and would have to ask him to repeat his instructions. The photographer couldn’t exactly lecture Adrien for his lack of professionalism with Nathalie and his bodyguard standing right there, but it wasn’t hard to tell that he was annoyed and frustrated. Adrien was truly sorry for making the photographer’s job harder--if Nathalie told his father about it, his disapproval would come back to bite both of them--but he couldn’t help it: he had just learned his soulmate’s true identity! His whole world had been flipped over!

He remained spacy, scatter-brained, and high-strung through the entire rest of the photoshoot and the entirety of the car ride home. He almost completely bypassed his last chance to grab his lunch before the chef started preparing dinner. As soon as he was alone in the dining room, he tossed aside his table manners and wolfed his food down in less than five minutes. As soon as he made it back to his room and closed the door behind him, he let Plagg out from inside his jacket and started unloading everything on his kwami.

“Okay, Plagg! What-am-I-gonna-do? What-am-I-gonna-do-about-Ladybug?! What-am-I-gonna-do-about-Marinette?! Do-I-tell-them?! I-mean-her?! I-dunno-but-should-I-tell-them-I-know?! I-mean-HER! DO-I-TELL-HER-I’M-CHAT-NOIR?! TELL ME WHAT TO DO, PLAGG!!”

“Okay, okay! Slow down! Stop talking!” Plagg snapped. “One thing at a time! First question: Do you want to tell her you know her true identity?”

“Uh…” Adrien was flapping his hands in indecision, trying to get his brain to slow down. Did he want to tell her? Tell her he had accidentally seen her detransform? Or let her keep believing her secret was safe?

He immediately balked at the idea of leaving her in the dark; not telling each any personal information to keep their true identities secret was one thing, but now that he knew who she was, not telling her that he knew just seemed irresponsible, somehow. Besides, it was her identity; she had the right to know.

“I...I don’t think I could not tell her. It would eat at me until I blurted it out, or I let something slip that exposed me. It’s her identity, so she has the right to know! I feel like it’s just the right thing to do. I sure am not looking forward to the conversation, ‘cause I don’t want to upset her with the news, but...I don’t want to keep secrets from her.”

He was finally starting to feel calmer. He looked back up at Plagg, hoping the little kwami would help him figure this all out.

“Makes sense.” Plagg shrugged, appearing unconcerned. “Okay, next question--”

“That's it?!” Adrien squawked incredulously. “You're not gonna--?!”

“Do you want to wait until you see Ladybug again to tell her?” Plagg plowed on, completely ignoring him. “Or do you want to tell Marinette next time you see her?”

Adrien shut his mouth and thought about it. It was hard to imagine what Marinette's reaction would be to hearing that he knew she was Ladybug...she’d be shocked, of course--he knew he would be in that situation--and they would never see each other the same way again, though he admitted that this was probably inevitable no matter how he chose to break the news to her. Marinette was a bit of a mystery to him overall in a way: she had a tendency to stumble over her own words whenever she spoke to him, but he couldn't figure out if it was just a tick of hers or if it had something to do with him personally. He definitely noticed that she rarely had the same trouble when she spoke to Alya, or to Nino...or to their teachers, or to Chloe, or to Sabrina, or Rose, or Max, or Kim, or Mylene, or…

Maybe it was just him...but why? It happened a lot with him, but not all the time: he thought it was fair enough to consider them good friends, because if she didn’t like him, she wouldn't waste her energy being friendly to him; she certainly didn't try to pretend she liked Chloe, and she didn't leave her first impression of him a mystery, either (maybe she had been a little too quick to jump to conclusions about him, but he could imagine how it might have looked to her). She had been nothing but pleasant with him the day he accompanied her and her great-uncle to the cooking contest, and he got to see a whole new side of her during preparation for the Ultimate Mecha Strike III tournament…

Wait! The tournament! And whenever Chloe did...!

Suddenly, things finally started to fall into place: Marinette's confidence and bravado while she trounced Max at his favorite game; Marinette's righteous anger whenever she confronted Chloe; Marinette's calm bravery and sharp wits in the face of a supervillain with a grudge; that was the Ladybug he loved and admired, only it was never just Ladybug: it was there in Marinette the whole time.

“Hey...anyone home in there?”

And Ladybug…! Newbie, self-proclaimed klutz Ladybug managing to fall right out of the sky, knock them both off his makeshift balance beam, tie them together, and leave them dangling on their first day as superheroes...Ladybug pulling disgusted faces whenever she was forced to spend more than two minutes in Chloe’s company...Ladybug’s ability to put the most random things together to create the perfect solution to a sticky situation...that was all Marinette, too!

Brave, smart, creative, determined, kind, selfless, and the fiercest, most loyal of friends...and she had been so close to him, all this time. Oh, how much time had he wasted, not seeing her when she was right beside him?

“HELLO-OOO!”

Adrien yelped in surprise, jumping about a foot in the air. If he was a cat, his fur would have been standing on end.

“Sorry, Plagg!” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. He could feel his cheeks glowing pink...how long had he had been blushing for?

Am I gonna be, like, blushing 24/7 now? he wondered. Between Ladybug and Marinette...Oh man, I’m in trouble…

“So, was any of that spacing-out productive?” Plagg asked dryly. “Because If it wasn't, I’m done trying to help you think.”

“Yeah...yeah, it was,” replied Adrien faintly. He was having a little trouble staying present; his head was still full of visions of ladybug spots, sky-blue eyes, and hair as black as midnight.

“So, you gonna talk to Marinette or Ladybug?” Plagg asked again.

Adrien frowned thoughtfully, trying to recover his train of thought.

I can never really know when I’ll see Ladybug next, he thought. Unless we run into each other on patrol, it depends on when Hawk Moth akumatizes someone next… Not for the first time (not by a long shot), Adrien wished he and Ladybug could meet without needing to fight a supervillain, even if it was just once in awhile. Why did their relationship have to be business-only?

Well, actually, now that I knew who she is, I guess now I technically know her outside of work, too, he thought. Wait, he was supposed to be making a decision right now...what was it, again? Oh, right: which identity of hers should her talk to first?

Unless a supervillain pops up overnight, I’ll see Marinette sooner...at school, tomorrow...oh, god, I’m gonna see her at school tomorrow! But, wait...if I go up to her as Adrien, I’m gonna have to explain to her that I’m Chat Noir before I can tell her I know she’s Ladybug...which, I mean...I’ll probably end up telling her anyway--if I know who she is, then I should at least offer to tell her who I am--but if there really is something about me that makes her super nervous, it’ll make the conversation even more stressful...so should I talk to Marinette...as Chat Noir? Would that work? How would that work…?

“Uh...I don’t think I can afford to wait until I see Ladybug, so I should probably talk to Marinette,” Adrien said slowly. “But if I talk to her as Adrien, telling her I know she’s Ladybug is gonna seem like it’s coming out nowhere, and it’ll just freak her out even more unless I tell her I’m Chat Noir first. But if I somehow find a way to talk to her as Chat Noir, she at least won’t freak out about her classmate suddenly knowing her secret identity...I mean, if she wants to know who I am, too, I’m totally okay with telling her, but...am I making sense?”

“Barely, but I got it,” Plagg replied, still acting as unconcerned as if they were planning a shopping trip. “So, you’re gonna approach her as Chat Noir...where, and when?”

“Not at school, for sure; I’d probably draw a crowd,” said Adrien with a brief grin. “But where else would I know when and where to find her…?”

Plagg slouched in midair, as if someone was dangling him by the scruff of his neck. He suddenly looked like Adrien had said something really stupid.

“What?” Adrien demanded, confused and annoyed by Plagg’s dumbfounded stare.

“Where do you think she spends most of her time after school?” Plagg asked tonelessly.

“I don’t...oh.” It clicked, and Adrien suddenly wanted to smack himself. “Her house...I know where she lives…” Oh my god, DUH! Ladybug is Marinette, so she lives in Marinette’s house--her OWN house!! Ugh, my head hurts…

“Yes, her house,” Plagg affirmed dryly. “So, when are you gonna drop by?”

“Well, I can’t afford to have her parents walk in on us…” Adrien mused aloud, recalling with a small smile, how...inquisitive Marinette’s parents had been when while he had been training with her for the Ultimate Mecha Strike III tournament. “So...either during peak business hours, when they’ll be busy with customers, or after they’ve gone to sleep. They probably get busiest around breakfast and lunch, but Marinette will probably be eating with them during those times…” Adrien sighed. “I guess it’s gonna have to be...tonight.” His heart started pounding from nerves as soon as he said this.

“All right! We finally have a plan,” Plagg said with a sigh of his own. “Well, until it’s time to go, I’m gonna take a nap. When you wake me up, you’d better have a piece of Camembert for me!” And with that, Plagg flew over to Adrien’s desk and disappeared into the trash can (empty, as far as Adrien could remember).

“Uh...okay, then…” Adrien said, a little surprised to suddenly find the conversation finished. “You...you do that. And I’ll do...I’ll do the other that. Yeah…”

He trudged over to his bed and flung himself onto it. He reached over to pick up his cell phone where he had left it on the corner of his desk and woke it up to check the time: 5:34 PM. In a half-hour, he’d be called down for dinner. Since Marinette’s parents probably got up early every morning, he figured 7:30 would be his best chance at catching Marinette after her parents had (hopefully) gone to sleep but before Marinette had (hopefully!) gone to sleep herself.

He set an alarm for 7:25 PM on his phone, and then stuffed it in his pocket. He sighed, tucking his hands behind his head, and lie there staring at the ceiling, his mind buzzing and his heart pounding.

Two hours from now, I’ll be seeing Ladybug...Marinette...in her room, and laying it all out into the open, he thought. I just hope we’ll both be ready for it...

Next Chapter >

#my fanfiction #miraculous ladybug #marichat #adrienette #marinette twice exposed

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rinapiccolo · 7 years

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Musings On Keeping A Sketchbook Journal

A sketchbook journal is a type of time machine. In place of dials, there are pages. This time machine has boundaries, though: you can only go backward, and not forward in time. The future—your future—is yet to be composed. On any given day, you might open a sketchbook from, say, six years ago, and see something of what your life was at the moment in which you were living it. (Or should I say, in the moment in which you were documenting it.) Setting fresh eyes on an old entry is something like seeing a shadow of your self, as it was six years ago. It's you without the details. You ask yourself what sorts of benefits can be gained by working in a little booklet that can transport you from one day in your life to another.

You may be embarrassed by what you write, and draw, in your sketchbook. You might say that you’d rather die than have someone read it. Most likely, you're someone who looks at old work that you've created, and see it in the same way that you would see an old photo of yourself with bad 80s hair, or bad 70s hair… or bad hair from whatever decade you choose, because no matter the decade, bad hair seems to occur in every era throughout history. What’s up with that?

One day you buy a sketchbook. It costs about the same price as a good medium sized pizza. It’s a nice-looking little book. Its got pristine virgin pages that smell like freshly folded linen. Your new sketchbook may have one of those colourful little ribbons that hang down the inner spine of the book to mark your place in it. It might come with a cover that is durable, or soft and pliant. Precious, right? Yeah, it's precious. So precious that you are afraid of blemishing its pages! So, you sit at your table, or on your couch, and stare at the bare, blank first page, and you decide that it is a job and a half just to stare at the page, let alone make that first mark on it. More staring. If you were a robot, there would be an attempt to try to reboot you. And to carry the robot-thing further, the idea of making a mark on the page makes you feel like a robot unable to fix a target for its much-anticipated first step. What do I write? What should I draw? You say to yourself. Jesus, why can’t I make a mark? I’ve made so many marks in my life, and now it seems I’ve forgotten how. What the f***? Then you take your brush-pen, or pen-pen, or whatever, and you begin to make a mark. It turns into a line, but it's really nothing yet, of course. Everything you do starts as nothing. At best, what you've made so far is an unsure, wandering line. And you take that unsure line and plough ahead. Moments pass. You're not feeling it. You're just not feeling it. You've made a lot of lines, but somehow they misbehave. The thing that you made is not exactly what you had in mind to create. It's a mess. At this stage you begin to think that maybe you would’ve preferred to spend your money on a good medium sized pizza.

If you think about it, manufactures of blank books are in the business of selling an intangible product. What they’re selling runs up a spectrum of possibilities (you might say they’re actually selling mere possibilities). You are an artist, or a writer, or someone who wants to fill up blank pages. You’re someone who is chasing something, exploring something, or searching for -- what? Self-expression? Self-esteem, maybe. A goal? An improved self? Maybe it's an Identity you're after, or an elusive project that will lend you an identity. Who knows, there may be an idea in your head that the sketchbook is a time capsule of your own self. Then you wonder about all these things, and ask: is the desire to keep a journal self-indulgent—or even egotistical? You ask yourself, do I have the arrogance to think that my musings are so important that they need documenting? No, you say; it’s not like that. It’s not like that at all; it’s just for pleasure, you say—something I do to entertain myself. And, you might add, what’s wrong with that?

One afternoon, you decide you are going to become a sketchbook person. You are going to be that person that writes and draws every day. So, you go to the art supply store and buy a commitment. This commitment rides with you on the subway home, it sits in your bag like a light switch waiting to be rummaged for in the dark, and turned on. You even feel an itch between the creases of your palms. At home you take out the little book, and off you go with it, scribbling, drawing, whatever. Where have you been all my life, you say to it. Where? Where? Where? But then something else happens. In one week the sketchbook sits closed up, forlorn, and without you; and you are doing something else with your time, and you suddenly remember what a teacher once told you about how you should never buy someone a puppy for Christmas. The little terrier is so cute, he’s soft and warm, and you love the feeling of him falling asleep in your lap. But then, ah, there’s the feeding, the housebreaking, the taking out, the vet visits, etc. At this point the analogy tapers off, and you stare at your seldom-used sketchbook, and wonder if there's a good place for it on your shelf. You find a spot, closest to the ceiling, and you park it there. Thank goodness it’s not a puppy, you think.

It's dusk. You look at all the un-filled sketchbooks on your shelf and wonder if maybe you just haven't found the right sketchbook. That must be the reason why you can't make a drawing you're proud of. Surprisingly, you discover that the only way to get over the stacks of empty pages on your shelf is to go to the store and buy more stacks of empty pages. So, the following day, you go and buy a new sketchbook. You know it's a bit crazy, because you have so many un-filled ones, but that's what you do. You look at the price. It costs about the same amount of money as a Teflon coated wok in Chinatown. Not bad. You leave the store with a light step, and a lighter wallet. It’s not like I’m buying puppies, you tell yourself, as you hop on the saddle and peddle home with the new sketchbook tucked smartly inside the basket of your bike, which you are now riding like a super heroine through the streets of a mega metropolis. And besides, you think, this will be a different sketchbook. Something worthwhile will happen inside it. This is the sketchbook that I will complete cover-to-cover. Back in your apartment, or house, or room, you unwrap the sketchbook; mm…smell that linen scent. And you begin scribbling, drawing, writing, whatever-- and zero thoughts come into your mind. Except maybe one thought: I love this! I love what I'm making right here, right now. And I know that although I'm loving this thing I'm making today, when tomorrow arrives I'll look at it and think it's a piece of shit. But that's ok, because right now, I am a Goddess of lines and shapes and letters, and all things sketchy and new. And so, yes, let tomorrow's feelings come when they may, because right now, I don't give a damn.

On a spring day, you take your sketchbook to a parkette in the middle of a busy intersection. You have it in mind to sketch people; take notes, maybe. The exhaust from cars is a reminder of where you are, but soon you are lost in your scribbling. A woman with bad 80s hair is carrying way too many babies, and you jot something down about her. And now she’s walked half way to Bay Street, but you are still sketching her, even though she is gone, out of sight. That’s something you are capable of doing: you know how to pin down a person’s individuality seconds before they disappear into the wash of masses. It's a skill of urban sketching. You look at your drawing. This is pretty good, you say to yourself—not the best, but I’m just getting warmed up. At two o’clock, at the time when the postman is unlocking his postal box, you are laying down crosshatches on a drawing of a sparrow. More minutes pass. There are now three representations of sparrows in your book, and several of people. Five minutes later, your friend shows up. Hey, you say. Hey, she says. She takes out her sketchbook and begins to scribble. You look over at her. She’s way better than I am, you think. I’m a total hack-job compared to her. After several minutes of drawing, she asks to see your sketchbook. This is a multiple choice. Do you a) nonchalantly show her your sketchbook, b) show her your work while wildly exclaiming how terrible it is, or c) flash her what you consider an okay drawing in the same way that you would flash your boobs: really fast. It also occurs to you that you can just say no. Like, No, you cannot look at my sketchbook. What would she say to that? Hm. She’s waiting and so you hand over your sketchbook. I’m just warming up, you tell her. And then, as she turns and gives you her sketchbook, she implores you not to look at it. Don’t even, she says, Don’t Freaking Even. So of course you look. You turn the page of this other person’s sketchbook, and you suddenly feel like you’re in a foreign country, where dots and lines are invoke the symbols of a different culture. Another side of the world is what you see, and over here, even the pages of sketchbooks smell different. Like wheat, or wheat crackers, maybe. But you don't mind that your friend's sketchbook is unusual, and that the texture of its pages are like the surface of a fuzzy unfamiliar fruit, because, you consider, maybe she feels the same way about yours. And that's when it comes to you: maybe you are—at least in the eyes of others—an exotic sketchbook artist. Yes. Maybe. Cars honk, people move past, and the traffic lights make that chirping noise that help the blind find their way across the intersection.

#Sketchbook #Sketchbook Art #Sketchbook Musings #Blogs about Creativity #sketchbook Journal #Blogs about Cartooning #Sketchbook Doodle #Blogs About Creativity #Blogs about Art #Musings on Creativity #creativity

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gabrieljarvis1992 · 4 years

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Get Taller Lifting Weights Best Ideas

Lactose intolerance is more of the best ways of gaining inches to your growth.Perhaps you're wondering how best you can actually increase their height.Put the hands backwards trying to grow taller.The best exercises that you have not been successful in it.

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How To Increase My Height In Hindi

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#Get Taller Lifting Weights Best Ideas #What To Eat In Order To Grow Taller

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laurentuck · 6 years

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Jessica Biel, Kerry Washington, Pink, and more celeb moms on post-baby body pressure

Jessica Biel spoke out about the pressure to drop post-baby weight at The MAKERS Conference. (Photo: Getty Images)

Until recently, Jessica Biel didn’t know a lot about reproductive health. “When I was thinking about starting a family — I mean, obviously I know how to do it — but I didn’t quite know how to do it,” the actress admitted on Tuesday during The 2018 MAKERS Conference.

But it’s what came after she gave birth to son Silas, now 2½, that was a “real shocker.”

“This idea of ‘I need to lose weight as fast as I possibly can and be skinny again and look fabulous again,’ and there’s so much pressure from outside and it’s kind of like this mom competition to see how fast you can be skinny and it’s actually the worst possible thing you can do to produce a future baby,” she said.

However, Biel’s not the first celebrity to speak out about the pressure moms feel to drop their post-baby pounds. Keep reading for more from Pink, Anne Hathaway, Blake Lively, and other prominent parents.

Pink

In a mirror selfie from the gym shortly after having her son Jameson, the singer shared on Instagram, “Would you believe I’m 160 pounds and 5’3″? By ‘regular standards’ that makes me obese. I know I’m not at my goal or anywhere near it after Baby 2 but dammit I don’t feel obese. The only thing I’m feeling is myself. Stay off that scale ladies!”

Zoe Saldana

“You have to remind yourself that everything takes time. I feel bad for those women who are desperate and want to bounce back three months after having a baby,” the actress said after having her twins. “It’s more like — ‘Breastfeed! Stay home! Sleep! Your kid is only 3 months old, what are you going to the gym for? Catch up on f—king reruns of some sort!’ I definitely took a break and trusted that my body was going to bounce back when it was ready. I never wanted to push myself.”

Kerry Washington

After the Scandal star’s manager made a comment about Washington returning to her pre-baby weight, she clapped back. “She meant it as a total compliment, but we had this great conversation where I was like, ‘You know what? I try really hard not to use that language, because it’s not about going backward in life,'” she told Self. “I’ve been really focused on not being ‘back’ to anything, but being the best version of myself right now.'” She added, “My body is the site of a miracle right now. I don’t want to be pre-miracle.”

Kim Kardashian

“After I had Saint, I decided to set goals for myself,” the reality star wrote on her blog. “I was motivated, but it was tough! It isn’t easy to just bounce back. I was so jealous of women who had these cute little baby bellies and would gain 25 pounds — and then, a few weeks after giving birth, somehow look exactly like they did before they were pregnant… That’s not me… As North gets older, she’ll start to be more aware of herself and her body. Her attitude toward her body is directly related to my own, so it’s my responsibility to make sure she understands that positive body image comes from having a healthy self-esteem. We all have our hang-ups and things we might want to change, but my curves make me who I am. So I embrace my body and the changes I’ve gone through. If anything, those changes remind me of what I’m able to create with my body: two little angels that I love beyond words.”

Keira Knightley

“I have to say, as a woman, you hate certain parts of your body. You go through those periods where you look in the mirror and you think, ‘Oh, if only I had different legs or arms or whatever,” Knightley told ELLE Magazine in September 2015. :You go through pregnancy and labor and then feeding the kid and you go, Wow, my body is totally amazing, and I’m never going to not like it again, because it did this, and this is fucking extraordinary.”

Anne Hathaway

“There is no shame in gaining weight during pregnancy (or ever),” Hathaway wrote on Instagram. “There is no shame if it takes longer than you think it will to lose the weight (if you want to lose it at all). There is no shame in finally breaking down and making your own jean shorts because last summer’s are just too dang short for this summer’s thighs. Bodies change. Bodies grow. Bodies shrink. It’s all love (don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.) Peace

Drew Barrymore

“After making two babies, holy cow, does your body do some crazy stuff! It’s hard to stay positive and love yourself,” Barrymore told Glamour in 2015. “You feel like a kangaroo with a giant pouch; everything’s saggy and weird. But you think about how beautiful it is that you’re able to make children. When I lose sight of that, I exercise, read Dr. Seuss’s Oh, the Places You’ll Go!, and spend time with my kids. Then I start to see things that are bigger than myself.

Blake Lively

“I’m still 15 pounds heavier so it’s nice that people think I lost my baby weight,” the Gossip Girl said in 2015, according to the BBC, after giving birth to her first daughter James. “I still haven’t lost a pretty good chunk of it, but it’s also the pressure—who cares? There’s pressure to lose it, or women are supposed to look like they did when they were 19 right after you give birth to your child, I think it’s silly.”

She also said in an interview with Yahoo Australia, “It’s so unfair though, because it’s so celebrated,” she said. “It’s like, this is what someone can look like after a baby. I think a woman’s body after having a baby is pretty amazing… You don’t need to be Victoria’s Secret-ready right away because you just did the most incredible miracle that life has to offer. I mean, you gave birth to a human being! So I would really like to see that celebrated.”

Eva Mendes

“I feel like we can be really hard on each other. That whole term ‘bounce back after pregnancy’? I don’t like that terminology,” Mendes said on the Wendy Williams Show in September 2015. “Look, if you get into the bikini two weeks after, good for you, but that wasn’t me. And that’s OK. I feel like we as women need to support each other more.”

Kristen Bell

When asked about the topic on The TODAY Show, Kristen Bell had the best response: “Who cares?” She continued, “I didn’t lose my baby weight for over a year. And when I look down, even now, at the extra skin on my belly, it’s a reminder that I’ve done something spectacular. It’s a reminder that I’m a superhero. And I’m proud of it.”

Hillary Duff

“So you feel the pressure because of what people write about you. Not that they’re personal attacks, but obviously, when you see “Hilary Debuts Post-Baby Body!” you want to tell people, ‘No, actually, I was just going out to get a coffee,'” she explained to Parents. “There are some women who look the same right after — I think they are freaks of nature! I don’t know how that happens. I’m not one of those people. It takes your body nine months to get there — really 10 months. So I’m trying to be patient but I’m working hard. And I think now more than ever, I appreciate my body and what it’s done for me.