#Nor Susan.

[bloodbathfortwo]

Alex Forbes will never forget how much he yearned to hold Nigel Colbie on their wedding night. He wanted to taste his skin, temptation thumping in his veins, his hands were itching to pin him down, see his whole weight pressure the life off of Nigel's wrists, wanting to see the lines he'd leave on his skin, the way his parched throat is seeking his heavenly waters: He felt like a lecherous teenage boy. But for all he knows, he cannot wait to be one with his beloved Maraclea.

[veloursdor]

the thing about watching desperate housewives is realising just how much the husbands suck and ranking them from who sucks the less to who sucks the most.

none of them deserve their wives.

[burkleswinifred]

seeing a lot of klivorce stuff and as a child of divorce myself i just think it would be funnier if klaine got divorced but still had to live together because of reasons. the divorce actually helped strengthen their relationship and they basically act like best friends who happen to raise kids together. they still occasionally sleep with each other and even take vacations together. everyone is like "why don't you guys just get married again?" they both just laugh it off and say that being divorced is just better for them than being married.

[psychxpxthic]

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐖 other outfits for Edgar that I could see him wearing in my Amnesia!Verse, and thought it'd be fun to include @ofxfiercexfemales's Susan Storm due to our thread we have going on that I been having real fun with

[prigorie]

susan in the edge of destruction: the [tardis] can't crash, it's impossible

the tardis: *probably takes it as a challenge*

[erstwhile-punk-guerito]

[thebentleyao3]

no I REFUSE to give you asks for ur aus.... Anyways

how did the squad (alisusan+lawrusso+fifth wheel) form? :D

if this is daniel i REFUSE to answer this ask about my aus...but anyways - so when the cobras, ali, susan and barbara are 16, they all pitch in and buy this old, rundown cabin by a lake for real cheap. the plan was to fix it up and have summer trips as a group once they all graduated - after ali and johnny split up and their friend group with it, they all kind of forgot about it. it wasn't like they spent that much on the piece of junk, no big deal - fast forward a couple years though: it's summer after highschool, and after YEARS of pining, susan has tentatively entered a relationship with her best friend ali mills!! woohoo!! only ali still isn't sure of her identity, and neither of them have gotten the courage to put ANY kind of label on whatever they have. ali's going off to UCLA soon, and susan's getting anxious about them not figuring things out before then. - she then gets a great idea. what if the two of them spend a romantic weekend together at the lake, and while theyre there susan can actually start the "what are we" talk and maybe, if all goes well, bring up the idea of them being roommates in college, so they don't have to do the long distance thing. suze could apply for spring semester at UCLA, even. all ali would have to do was say yes. the weeekend was gonna be perfect. - except for the fact that johnny lawrence and daniel larusso seemed to have a similar idea. - after making out at prom, johnny and daniel spent a couple weeks dancing around eachother before finally (finally!) admitting to having real feelings for eachother. they'd been dating for a couple months, and johnny's kind of been stressing over how to tell the rest of the cobras that they aren't just really close friends now - and thats when he gets a GREAT IDEA. bobby's his best friend, and he's always kind of been the mom of the group. if he tells him about daniel first, surely it'll make telling tommy, jimmy and dutch way easier afterwards. so he plans for him, daniel and bobby to take a trip up to the old cabin for a couple days. that way, he and daniel can break the news to him then, AND it'll get him more used to the idea of seeing them together. foolproof. - what are the odds of both alisusan and lawrusso ending up at the same unused cabin on the same weekend? turns out, high enough. love that for them!

[iit-s-kitty]

me five-or-six-years-ago: i don't play favorites, i love everything about chronicles of narnia equally!

me rn: i don't care about the last battle

[favroitecrime]

i don’t wanna be annoying in that post’s tags because op doesn’t need that but i never really read coin (?) as being a resistance leader so much as a reflection of what happens when bad people infiltrate resistances.

to me katniss & peeta & the hunger games’ victims, as well as the people surviving were ‘the resistance’. any hierarchy established was never in question and i kind of just assumed coin was gonna be an antagonist of sorts when she disliked katniss and her method of resistance.

because katniss wasn’t terrified of getting violent when she had to and she wasn’t exactly quiet with her anger towards the system by the end. i think the issue came to a standstill when the very thing she was fighting for was bombed and killed before her eyes. by a weapon designed by the guy who promised to keep her safe. ordered by someone who used katniss’ resistance to push forth a twisted goal.

like a weak comparison to, say, nazis trying to infiltrate pro-Palestine movements in hopes of being able to co-opt the movement into something more sinister. anyway. this is really just my interpretation of the text but it has been like a couple of months and a lot has happened in said couple of months so idk, take it with a grain of salt.

[blahblahblees]

ヽ｀、☁ヽ｀─── fantasize ミ rodrick heffley

✎ ·˚ ༘ ─── after some “fun in the sun” the heffley’s catch a side of rodrick that they rarely see.

wc: 785

movie!rodrick heffley x fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns)

tw: kissing/making out (?) mentioned

a/n: this was a reblog request :)

RODRICK HAD been known by his to be this “rockstar” who didn’t have much care in the world. He cared more so about his band than his schoolwork and his music more than the chore list that had been miles and miles long that he always made Greg do with the help of Rowley.

But somehow, someway, Rodrick had a small soft spot in his heart for his family and his girlfriend. That spot, though small, could hold the weights of the world and they all knew that in their very special way.

And if girlfriend knew that Rodrick loved her in his own special way.

He wrote songs about her, he invited her to his gigs, he sat around while she study, they made out in the back of his van… all love in his own very special way.

Even now.

It was dark and late into the night when Rodrick had invited her over. She didn’t plan on staying long, not because she didn’t want to, it was because she didn’t want to intrude on the Heffley family dinner, but he, along with Susan, insisted that she was no bother.

But she’d been over for hours and had been cooped up in Rodrick’s room the entire time.

They’d listen to music, they listened to his music, they jumped up and down and called it dancing. They were with each other and this was a side that many people didn’t see of Rodrick, not even his family.

After that, the two of flopped down on Rodrick’s bed. She held her hands over her mouth to stifle her laughter but Rodrick propped himself on his elbow and took his free hand to remove her hands from her mouth.

She continued to stifle her laughs as Rodrick smiled down at her, drawing closer and closer to her lips and gently placed them on top of hers, which quickly made her laughs disappear and more so focus on him.

It was a gentle, exploratory kiss, with Rodrick's lips moving slowly against hers as they both savored the moment. His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing back and forth along her skin.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. She ran her fingers through his tousled hair, enjoying the feel of it under her fingertips.

As the kiss continued, she felt her heartbeat quicken and her breathing grow shallow. She was completely lost in the moment, her whole being focused on the sensation of his lips on hers.

Rodrick's hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head, deepening the kiss even further.

It was like nothing she had ever experienced before, and she never wanted it to end.

THERE WAS a gentle knock on Rodrick’s door and on the other side of it had been his little brother Greg. It wasn’t often that the boy knocked, but he knew that his girlfriend was over and from the previous time… he knew to knock.

But Rodrick nor his girlfriend made any noise on the other side of the door. He continue to knock to let them know that dinner had been ready and they needed to come down to each per Susan’s request.

But again, nothing had been heard on the other side, so he shrugged his shoulders and made his way back downstairs to let his mother know that Rodrick wasn’t answering to his knock.

Susan gently put down her napkin and made her way upstairs into Rodrick’s room. And for Greg? This was gold and was something that could only happen once in his lifetime.

Though he knew that he wouldn’t get into too much trouble by skipping out on dinner, it was enough trouble for Greg to grab his camera and prepare for Rodrick to be completely embarrassed in front of his girlfriend.

So, as soon as Susan knocked on Rodrick’s door, Greg hit record.

“Rodrick, sweetie.” Susan called. “It’s time for dinner.”

But once more, absolutely nothing.

So Susan gently grabbed the doorknob and twisted it open. And inside laid Rodrick and his girlfriend laying in his bed with their eyes shut. Rodrick’s arm draped over her as her hand laid gently interlocked with his.

Her shirt had been swapped with one of Rodrick’s Löded Diper shirt that neither Greg nor Susan commented on.

Greg groaned, cutting his camera off and making their way back downstairs to eat his dinner with his father and little brother, Manny.

Susan held a small smile on her face, her hand over her heart as she gently shut the door behind her, making note to save some of the dinner for the two of them.

— lucy has something to say !!

i feel as if this is short and i’m sad about it sadge

my request are opened! check out my rules and such before request and check out my masterlist to see who i write for!

[savechivasfemenil]

maybe it’s a good thing I’m not able to watch todays game cause pato is not a serious man

[spilladabalia]

‘We are an elemental people’: Grief, love beyond the grave and the liminality of the coast in Tigon’s Neither the Sea Nor the Sand | Horrified Magazine - The British Horror Website

[pink-princess-pussy-pop]

Making Up For Lost Time - Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Based on the following two requests:

can we get an enemies to lovers with edmund that has smut in it??

PLEASEE an edmund smut,, preferably something with a risk of getting caught? or not bb i don’t mind- but a lot of dirty talking too 🤭

It's not necessarily enemies to lovers? But I really hope you enjoy it, this is probably my favorite thing I've written thus far.

Summary: You and Edmund are definitely feeling the effects of your arranged marriage.

Warnings: Language, Smut, not proofed!

Female reader

You couldn't take much more of him, nor him you. The both of you knew why the marriage had to happen, Narnia couldn't risk another war, and Calormen was losing resources due to the Great Desert. As a compromise, Peter, Caspian, and Susan met with Prince Rabadash to secure a compromise. A truce between the kingdoms and a new way for the resources to be traded was sealed with the promise of a marriage between you and Edmund.

And neither of you was happy with it.

It didn't help that you had shared chambers either. You and Edmund had asked The High Kings and Queen about a switch in rooms but they only pushed further.

"Imagine what the people would think if the newlyweds weren't sharing a room?" So you were forced to live with him. Fall asleep next to him each night, and wake by his side every morning.

Granted, Edmund wasn't intolerable. He just wasn't tolerable either. He was a handsome man, sure, but that face also came with his quick wit and sharp tongue, two things you'd grown to loathe.

He'd challenge you, yes. But his tone of speech was never rude or condescending. But the biggest thing you hated about him, he was always so charming. So sweet. So fair.

He didn't earn the title of The Just King for nothing. But it just added fuel to the fire.

He'd always let you use the bath chambers first, and never complained or protested when you took longer baths.

He didn't pressure you to do anything on your wedding night. He simply kept to himself, offering you a smile and a "goodnight" from his side of the bed. You had been told what was to come, your mind was full of stories from other women in your life. Horror stories.

"It is ever so painful."

"Not pleasurable at all!"

"I can hardly wait until it's over!"

Needless to say, when your new husband had simply wished you a good night and went to sleep, you were surprised. The next morning you woke by his side, finding it odd that he had barely moved an inch. You were basically in the middle of the large bed, Edmund sleeping soundly on the edge, right where he was the night before. You were gone before he'd woken up.

Edmund never failed to greet you kindly, entering the room quietly just in case you had decided to take a nap. He never raised his voice to you either.

Was he snarky and sassy? Of course. But he had always treated you and your family with kindness and respect. It was insufferable. Sometimes you wished he'd just be rude so you would have a real reason to hate him, aside from the fact that he was your husband but you never seemed to communicate. You had gotten used to the fact that there would never be any sort of friendship, let alone a relationship, between you and Edmund, so you resorted to hating him.

The only time he'd gotten angry with you was when you hadn't returned to the bedroom one evening. Unbeknownst to you, he began searching frantically for you, creating quite a stir in the grand castle, only to find you asleep in the library. He cursed to himself before picking your sleeping form up in his arms and bringing you back to your room.

You woke up that morning in bed, confused at first about your location, but relaxing when you saw Edmund's sleeping form next to you.

As you rolled out of bed and made your way to the bathroom you heard his voice.

"Don't do that again." You froze, turning around. His dark eyes were on yours and he was very much not asleep.

"Do what?" He sat up, giving you a view of his very shirtless torso. You averted your eyes immediately.

"Not come back." Your confusion brought your eyes to him again. His lanky, but well-built frame, was now sitting on the edge of the bed.

"What?" He rose from the bed, a hand running through his dark hair. You stare at him while he walks toward you, stopping less than a foot away from you.

"You didn't come back last night. Don't do that again." He brushed your cheek with his hand, and leaned forward, pressing a kiss there too. You could feel your cheeks heating at the proximity. The last time he'd been this close to you was your wedding. He hadn't touched you since then either.

He pulled away quickly, stepping around you.

"Did you bring me back?" You turned your head to face him.

"Yes."

...

That night, there was a ball between the great nations. Narnia was the gracious host to Archenland, the Conglomeration of Nations, Ettinsmoor, and of course, Calormen.

You hadn't seen Edmund since the morning. You had been whisked away by maids to get ready for the celebration. The ball was for you and Edmund, another party after the wedding you guessed.

You were dressed in a gorgeous light blue gown with intricate white floral stitching and lace along the neckline. It was gorgeous. The long sleeves were fitted and the back laced up like a corset. Your hair had been fixed down with small braids throughout as to not disrupt the crown you'd also be adorning for the evening.

Then, you were whisked away to the celebration, the guests awaiting the arrival of the newlyweds. Edmund was waiting in the corridor, dressed in the same light blue as you, his silver crown on top of his head. He looked very handsome, more so than usual, and suddenly your thoughts were filled with images of you and Edmund dancing together, of Edmund touching you, his large hand on your waist, maybe even his lips on yours.

"M'Lady?"

You blinked, eyes meeting his. What had he just called you?

"Y-yes?"

"I said are you ready to go in?" Your cheeks heated once again and you nodded, looking away from him. He chuckled and then he laced his fingers through yours, effectively making your heart stop.

...

As soon as your introductions were over, you slipped away from Edmund's side. The thoughts kept popping up in your brain. Why did you keep thinking these thoughts? Edmund didn't want to marry you, let alone consummate the marriage, so why did your brain keep doing this? You hid yourself well by the banquet table, keeping away from the crowds.

"Queen Y/N?" You turned at the use of your title, looking at the sheer opposite of your husband. A man with blonde hair and blue eyes was staring at you with a dazzling smile. You found yourself preferring Edmund's dark hair, brown eyes, and ever-present smirk.

"Hello..."

"I am Prince Cor of Archenland. It is very nice to meet you, M'Lady."

You had to stop yourself from reacting to the name Edmund had called you only an hour before. You'd much preferred it coming from his mouth than Prince Cor. Oh now you'd done it. This poor Prince was trying to make small talk with you and now you were thinking about your husband's mouth? The blush creeping over your cheeks and shoulders was enough for you to shake yourself out of your thoughts.

"It is nice to meet you too, your Highness."

As you and Cor began to make conversation, Edmund's wondering eyes found you. His hand tightened around the goblet he'd been holding and his gaze narrowed.

"Who is that?" He hadn't even noticed he was interrupting his brother.

"Who is who?" Peter replied.

"The bloke flirting with my wife, that's who." Peter held back a laugh.

"Ed, I hardly think Prince Cor would flirt with Y/N, this is your marriage celebration after all. Besides, she wouldn't flirt with someone else so shamelessly."

Edmund wasn't even listening and was halfway across the ballroom before his brother could finish speaking.

"I really do believe that astronomy is one of the most interesting subjects one can learn about-" The Just King interrupted the blonde prince, swiftly interjecting himself into the conversation.

"Hello, My Love." Your face burned at the new name. Then he turned your face to his and kisses your cheek. You could feel your heart in your ears and you looked down, suddenly interested in the floor. "May I ask what you and Prince Cor are talking about?" The blonde man looked uncomfortable.

"We were speaking-"

"I believe I asked my wife, not you." Cor lowered his head in a nod in return, quickly and quietly exiting the conversation. If looks could kill, Prince Cor would have been dead on the ballroom floor in mere seconds from Edmund's piercing glare.

You began to slip away from your husband before his strong hand wrapped around your arm and gently tugged you back. His front was lightly pressed against your back, his head lowered so he could speak into your ear.

"And where do you think you're going?" His voice sent shivers down your spine. His hand trailed up your arm, resting where your shoulder meets your collar bone, visible from the Sabrina neckline of your dress. "Are you trying to make me jealous?"

What? Were you dreaming?

"Because it's working, darling."

Edmund's hand grasps yours again and he begins to lead you out of the room, desperate to get you alone. It isn't until you are outside of the boisterous party that you speak.

"Where are we going?" Edmund stops to look around, before ushering you into a corridor adjacent to the party. "Edmund!"

"Shh!" His hand covers your mouth and he presses his front to yours, making sure you are silent and unseen as guests walk past the hall. He looks at you and almost melts at the beautiful, wide eyes looking up at him. He removes his hand from your mouth, placing it on the wall by your head. You don't even register that the other is on your waist.

You speak gently, making sure your voice is hushed.

"Edmund, why are you jealous?" Your husband takes a deep breath before glancing down the hallway. "Ed?" Your hand timidly reaches up to bring his face back to yours and his eyes widen at the contact.

"You were talking to another man. At the celebration of our wedding."

You had to stifle your shock.

"Edmund, you are my husband, you have no reason to be jealous of a prince from a neighboring kingdom." His lips quirk up a bit.

"How can I not be when you are showing more interest in anyone else but me? I am your husband and you are my wife. I should be by your side tonight." His words are so surprising and you are glad for the wall behind you, and the man in front of you, for the extra support to stand.

"I thought you would want your space."

"Why in Aslan's name would you think that?" You look at him again, taking him in completely, the way he looks in the blue fabric, his dark hair framing his face with that godforsaken crown making him look better than he had a few hours ago. "Y/N, why do you think I wouldn't want to be near you?" His eyes search yours and you blink away, far too flushed under his heavy gaze.

"You haven't ever wanted to before." The words hit him like bricks.

"What?"

The words begin to spill out before you can stop them.

"You always sleep on your side with your back to me, you are always gone when I wake up, I never see you except when you come to get ready for bed, and on our wedding night you didn't..." You push through the embarrassment. "You didn't even touch me. I know this marriage isn't what we had wanted but I thought that maybe we might have been friends-" Edmund cuts off your monologue with a kiss. Your first kiss since your wedding night.

His hand moves from the wall to your neck and the other pulls you to his body, needing to get closer to you.

Your body reacts immediately, melting into the kiss, hands resting on his waist.

It ends too soon, Edmund pulling away first, putting his hand back on the wall while he catches his breath, but the other remained on your waist.

"You think I don't want to be near you?" He stares at you with an incredulous look on his handsome face. The closeness of his face to yours is enough to make you blush, again. "Darling, I haven't..." He takes a moment to breathe, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "I didn't touch you that night because I didn't want to hurt you. I'm so bloody drawn to you that I have to sleep on the opposite side of the bed turned away from you so I don't taint your virtue. I leave in the morning because-"

Your hand covers his mouth as another rowdy group of guests wanders by the corridor. You wait for them to leave before speaking again, keeping your hand plastered onto his face.

"So, you don't hate me?"

He shakes his head.

No.

"You never did?"

No.

You remove your hand from his mouth and the two of you just stare at each other. Unmoving. It feels like minutes pass before he covers your mouth with his again.

His hand returns to your neck, pulling you to him once more.

"I'm sorry I ever made you think I didn't want you. You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen and I am the luckiest man alive to have you as my wife."

"Edmund..." The kind words hit you straight in the heart.

"And now, it seems I have something I have to make up for." His smirk appears and it sends your insides to mush.

"But Edmund I-"

"Shhhh." He smiles, his head dipping to yours. "Don't want to get caught, now do we?" He kisses you again, this one full of heat and passion, the lack of contact between you only adding fuel to the fire.,

Edmund pulls your body flush against his and groans into your mouth. You falter at the glorious sound but he is there to support you

His kisses travel down your neck to your collarbones.

"Edmund... What are you doing?"

"Making up for lost time, darling." He grins at you again. "Now be quiet." He kisses you again, his sneaky hands running down your sides to your skirt. He breaks the kiss to look down, his hands pulling the fabric up to your waist.

"Fuck." Your eyes went wide. You'd never heard Edmund use that kind of language before. His eyes lock on yours again.

He looks perfect. He's a king. Your king. Your husband.

"Are you ok with this?" You nod yes multiple times, making him smirk yet again, and then you gasp at the contact of his fingers against your womanhood. Your hands grip his shoulders for support, his muscles tensing at the fact that you are touching him. That he is touching you. His fingers find no resistance due to the effects of his words and his ego grows. You bury your face into his shirt when his fingers slip into you. Though foreign, it is an immensely pleasurable feeling and you can't help but want more.

Then he begins to move them. You push further into him to silence your mouth, the feeling far too wonderful to not have a vocal effect.

But then his thumb brushes on something that makes you let out a loud moan. Your face flushes in embarrassment.

"Do you want everyone to know that I'm defiling you in the hallway?"

Oh dear, you're afraid his words combined with whatever he is doing with his fingers are going to kill you.

He repeats the same action but kisses you once more, your moans muffled.

Edmund can tell you are getting close, you've begun to shake, you're gasping into his mouth, and you are practically rutting into his hand. He makes the conscious decision to break the kiss to suck on your neck, covering your mouth with his free hand to silence any escaping sounds. Then, his thumb presses up again and his fingers hook inside of you and you convulse around him.

He is in awe of how gorgeous you are and what he'd just done.

As you catch your breath, your trembling hands find the waistband of his trousers and gently begin unbuttoning them, eager for more. His eyes avert to what you're doing and he curses again. You falter.

"Do-do you want me to stop?" His head shakes back and forth.

"I think I'd die if you did, love."

Edmund begins kissing your neck once again while you free him from the confinement of his tight pants and you gasp. He laughs into your neck, sending goosebumps throughout your entire body.

"Don't get shy on me now, darling. You wanted this, right?" You nod and feel him smile into your skin.

He makes quick work of your undergarments, tossing them to the side, lining himself up with your lower half.

He halts and you look into his eyes, body shaking in need and anticipation for what you had been so scared of on your wedding night.

With your eyes on his, he pushes into you, stopping when you push against him.

"Are you alright?" His voice is next to your ear.

"Just one second." Edmund waits, trying to distract himself from the way your body is clenching around him. Your small voice brings him back to reality. "Edmund."

"Yes?" You notice the rasp in his voice, the strain in his muscles. To ease him, you follow your instincts and roll your hips against his and his hands grip your hips in response, stifling the moan wanting to leave his throat.

"Fuck. Y/N. You can't do that." It's your turn to smirk. You do it again and he presses your body back into the wall. The soft grip on your hips tightens and his eyes meet yours, blown with lust. Then, they narrow at the smirk on your lips. "Oh, so you think that's funny do you?" He begins to slide out of you and your eyes roll backwards. Then he slams back in.

The moan that escapes your lips sets a fire in him and his hand claps back over your mouth.

"How many times do I need to tell you to be quiet?" He begins to move his hips again, the feeling ten times more wonderful than just his fingers. "Is this what you wanted?" You can barely comprehend his hushed words. "Is that why you were flirting with him? To make me jealous so I'd finally touch you?" His free hand worms its way back to the apex of your thighs, finding that place that made you squirm in no time. "You're lucky I love you." You don't even register his words as you come undone.

Edmund follows behind, pushing into you one last time before falling into you. His breathing is labored and the two of you don't speak while you catch your breath.

"Edmund!" Your heads snap toward the sound of Peter yelling his name.

"Dammnit!" He quickly makes himself presentable and you follow suit, making sure your hair isn't wild and your skirts are back in place. He takes your hand, smiling at you, before leading you back out of the hallway.

"Edmund!" Peter's back was to you.

"Peter, stop yelling, I'm right here!" The High King turns around, a glare present on his face.

"Your guests are wondering where the two of you have been! You disappeared thirty minutes ago! Get back inside, now."

Edmund doesn't reply to his bother, opting for an eye roll instead. Then he turns to you offering you a bow.

"Shall we get back to the celebration, my queen?" You giggle.

"Let's."

...

Peter may have overreacted just a bit because the only people wondering where the two of you had gone was him.

Edmund pulled you to the ballroom floor, his arms draped around your waist. You settled yours around his shoulders with a smile. The rest of the party seemed to disappear as he bent down to place a soft kiss against your lips.

You rest your head against his shoulder and whisper into his ear.

"I love you too."

AHHHHH! Y'all I'm really proud of this and hope you enjoy it. :)

[heavenlyyshecomes]

For the interested reader, diaries and notebooks can be placed in two categories: in the first the text is intended to be official, manifest, aimed at a readership. The notebook becomes a training ground for the outward self, and, as in the case of the nineteenth-century artist and diarist Marie Bashkirtseff, an open declaration, an unending monologue, addressed to an invisible but sympathetic ear. Still I’m fascinated by the other sort of diary, the working tool, the sort the writer-as-craftsperson keeps close at hand, of little apparent use to the outsider. Susan Sontag, who practised this art form for decades, said of her diary that it was ‘an instrument, a tool’ – I’m not sure this is entirely apt. Sontag’s notebooks (and the notebooks of other writers) are not just for the storage of ideas, like nuts in squirrels’ cheeks, to be consumed later. Nor are they filled with quick outlines of events, to be recollected when needed. Notebooks are an essential daily activity for a certain type of person, loose-woven mesh on which they hang their clinging faith in reality and its continuing nature. Such texts have only one reader in mind, but this reader is utterly implicated. Break open a notebook at any point and be reminded of your own reality, because a notebook is a series of proofs that life has continuity and history, and (this is most important) that any point in your own past is still within your reach. Sontag’s notebooks are filled with such proofs: lists of films she has seen, books she has read, words that have charmed her, the dried husks of completed endeavours – and these are largely limited to the notebooks; they almost never feed into her books or films or articles, they are neither the starting point, nor the underpinning for her public work. They are not intended as explanations for another reader (perhaps for the self, although they are scribbled down at such a lick that sometimes it’s hard to make out what is meant). Like a fridge, or as it was once called, an ice house, a place where the fast-corrupting memory-product can be stored, a space for witness accounts and affirmations, or the material and outward signs of immaterial and elusive relations, to paraphrase Goncharov.

—Maria Stepanova, In Memory of Memory, tr. Sasha Dugdale (emphasis mine)

[gatheringbones]

[“People are attracted to the concept of a Nordic-style law that criminalises only the sex buyer, and not the prostitute – but any campaign or policy that aims to reduce business for sex workers will force them to absorb the deficit, whether in their wallets or in their working conditions. As a sex worker in the Industrial Workers of the World observes,

I find that how easy, safe, and enjoyable I can make my work is directly related to whether I can survive on what I’m currently making … I might be safer if I refused any clients who make their disrespect for me clear immediately, but I know exactly where I can afford to set the bar on what I need to tolerate. If I haven’t been paid in weeks, I need to accept clients who sound more dangerous than I’d usually be willing to risk.

When sex workers speak to this, we are often seemingly misheard as defending some kind of ‘right’ for men to pay for sex. In fact, as Wages For Housework articulated in the 1970s, naming something as work is a crucial first step in refusing to do it – on your own terms. Marxist-feminist theorist Silvia Federici wrote in 1975 that ‘to demand wages for housework does not mean to say that if we are paid we will continue to do it. It means precisely the opposite. To say that we want money for housework is the first step towards refusing to do it, because the demand for a wage makes our work visible, which is the most indispensable condition to begin to struggle against it.’ Naming work as work has been a key feminist strategy beyond Wages For Housework. From sociologist Arlie Hochschild’s term ‘emotional labour’, to journalist Susan Maushart’s term ‘wife-work’, to Sophie Lewis’s theorising around surrogacy and ‘gestational labour’, naming otherwise invisible or ‘natural’ structures of gendered labour is central to beginning to think about how, collectively, to resist or reorder such work.

Just because a job is bad does not mean it’s not a ‘real job’. When sex workers assert that sex work is work, we are saying that we need rights. We are not saying that work is good or fun, or even harmless, nor that it has fundamental value. Likewise, situating what we do within a workers’ rights framework does not constitute an unconditional endorsement of work itself. It is not an endorsement of capitalism or of a bigger, more profitable sex industry. ‘People think the point of our organisation is [to] expand prostitution in Bolivia’, says ONAEM activist Yuly Perez. ‘In fact, we want the opposite. Our ideal world is one free of the economic desperation that forces women into this business.’

It is not the task of sex workers to apologise for what prostitution is. Sex workers should not have to defend the sex industry to argue that we deserve the ability to earn a living without punishment. People should not have to demonstrate that their work has intrinsic value to society to deserve safety at work. Moving towards a better society – one in which more people’s work does have wider value, one in which resources are shared on the basis of need – cannot come about through criminalisation. Nor can it come about through treating marginalised people’s material needs and survival strategies as trivial. Sex workers ask to be credited with the capacity to struggle with work – even to hate it – and still be considered workers. You don’t have to like your job to want to keep it.”]

molly smith, juno mac, from revolting prostitutes: the fight for sex workers’ rights, 2018

[newtmas-supremxcy]

I'm sorry but charles being all possessive and jealous over literally any male character in this show and Edwin is so entertaining but lowkey infuriating to me tho because like my guy at least Edwin didn't straight up talk about sleeping with them and kiss them, infront of you, twice- once after you confessed your feelings to him and got rejected (albeit a very gentle one and it's still debatable whether or not it really was a fully fledged rejection but you get what I mean).

To be clear this is absolutely NOT me hating on Charles nor do I blame him I mean that dude is so deep in that closet he is closer to Susan and Peter than to edwin, just saying from the perspective of a viewer it is just a slight bit annoying