#but i have my old catholic school uniform

[cranberryjuice-posts]

HELLO?? I LOVE YOUR CLARISSE FANFICS I EAT THEM UP EVERY SINGLE TIME!!! ok ok so i was wonderingggg if you could do dior goodjohn x (actor/singer) reader! their in this interview together just the two of them for percy jackson, the interview makes reader uncomfortable and then clarisse is just like protecting reader! then when they get home they get blasted with edits of them but if you don’t do fanfics of the actors that’s totally ok because i have one for clarisse! clarisse la rue x (athena) reader! the reader and clarisse where friends before clarisse got sent to camp haft blood and so like about 3 years later reader gets sent there too, reader doesn’t recognize clarisse before clarisse says this one things that makes reader remember (you can decide on what she says! would be amazing if their could be like a makeout sesh😋😋) TY IF YIU SEE THIS AND YK MAKE THE FSNFICS AHH LOVE YOUR WRITING

You know where to find me — and I know where to look

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! daughter of Athena! Reader

One of your earliest memories was when you were 13. Running around with clarisse in your private catholic boarding school, skipping class and watching as she would constantly get into fights.

You both looked after eachother, clarisses mom was enlisted in the army thus she lived with her grandma who wasn’t the nicest and you.. well your dad seemed to only care about you when he needed something solved.

Forcing clarisse to sit on the schools bathroom sink counter you started to clean a cut on the girls cheek. Not wanting to even think about how you’ll get the blood off her light blue uniform top. “It’s not even my fault!” The young girl yelled. “If Jeremiah thinks ‘slap ass Friday’ is so funny then maybe he should get his ass beat every now and then”

You just nodded following along with what the girl spoke. Moving a frizzy curl out of the girls way you noticed how she scoffed. “I should just cut this off” she grabbed the loose curls shoving them into her messy ponytail. “Don’t do that” you sighed pulling her hands away from her hair. “You Just Need some help to keep your curls nice that’s all”

Clarisses cheeks flushed, she shoved your hands away as she looked to the side. “Whatever”

“Hey!” A teacher aggressively busted into the bathroom. “Skipping class really?! Both of You principal office now!”

Clarisse grabbed your hand pushing past the teacher and down the private schools halls. You laughed as you followed the girl around the school, running down the stairs and past the nuns.

Shoving into a janitors closet and shutting it before the teacher could catch up. You panted while clarisse who Just practically ran a marathon was fine. Turning on the light you plopped down onto a pair of stacked chairs. “How are You able to do that!?”

“Do what?”

“Run like That and not even be tired” you questioned. Clarisse just shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t really know I just am I a guess” she sighed sitting on a shelf.

Finally catching your breath you looked over “Hey clarisse?”

The girl set the tool she had been messing with down. “Yeah?”

“Will we always be best friends?” You quietly asked. Paying attention as clarisse had an annoyed look on her face she soon nodded. “Yeah.. cause you’ll always know where to find me”

You rolled your eyes “well I always know where to look” chuckling you reached out with your pinkie. Clarisse followed suit latching here onto yours. You knew what was between you and clarisse was far away from platonic but what did you know you were just some 13 year old kid.

The next morning clarisse was gone. Not a word not a letter nothing.. she had just left

You promised yourself you would never forget her. At first it started with not remembering how she spoke, then you forgot her face, and soon enough even her name you had completely forgotten.

———

Three years later.

After being chased by a hellhound and a few other angry monsters you found yourself at camp halfblood.

The weeks sorta merged together. However once you were claimed by Athena everything seemed to change, new found siblings. People wanting to be your friends and now finally not feeling like you were alone.

Through out your weeks at camp you had heard about a girl named clarisse. The name sounded familiar but you couldn’t place it exactly. The fact the mysterious girl avoided you to didn’t help either.

—

Annabeth Open the door agressivly throwing her dagger onto the bed. “What’s wrong?” You asked looking up from your book. “Nothing nothing.. I just got paired to lead a training class with clarisse”

“And what’s the problem?”

“She’s terrible What do you mean ‘what’s the problem’” your sister scoffed crossing her arms.

“I just meant that clarisse hasn’t done anything to me personally.. I don’t think I’ve even met her before” shaking your head you returned to your book.

Annabeth stayed quiet for a moment before grabbing the boom out of your hand. “Fine then, if you’ve never met her before then you should go lead the class with her.. besides it’ll be good for you”

Begrudgingly you accepted. Leaving your cabin you headed towards the arena, dagger strapped at your thigh.

—

The arena was loud and well… sweaty. Joining the kids who were sparring you made your way to a girl who stood crossed arm wearing Greek armor. “Uh hi? Your clarisse right” You stepped up to her. “I’m annabeths sister she wasn’t feeling well so I’m here to help you uh lead the class”

“You have any experience in battle” she rudely spoke not looking at you. “No b—“

“Then get lost I don’t need any dead weight” she scoffed before turning her attention back to the other campers who were sparring. “Hey! Did I not just say to stop stepping out!!”

You looked at the girl with a irritated face. “I’m not dead weight I can help”

Clarisse grabbed her spear before she harshly turned towards you. Just as she was going to say something she stopped. Looking at you for a second clarisse seemed to calm down. “Y/n?” She quietly asked.

Stepping back some you looked around confused. “Uh yeah.. that’s my name” you nodded awkwardly.

She took her helmet off tossing it aside looking at you excitedly. “It’s me? Remember? no fucking way your a demigod to! I should of guessed you were always the top of our class— gods how have you been”

At this point you were weirded out. “I’m sorry but I don’t know you..” She furrowed her eyebrows slightly fustrated. “What do You mean you don’t know me? We were best friends”

You just shrugged your shoulders apologetically. Clarisse nodded taking a moment to think before grabbing your hand, forcing it into a fist with your pinky sticking out. She linked her pinky with yours and gave you a slightly annoyed look. “You know where to find me”

It took you a few seconds to register what she said. After an uncomfortable amount of silence clarisse sighed, before she could pull away however you tightly linked your pinky with hers “and I know where to look” You smiled “oh my god clarisse!” you laughed hugging the girl tightly.

Some of The campers around stopped what they were doing, shocked at the fact clarisse was being hugged by a pretty girl. Quickly returning to what they were doing after receiving a hateful glare from clarisse.

The strong girl hugged you back tightly, allowing you to pull back you continued to grin. “Look at You! Wow you’ve gotten so pretty, and strong to gods” laughing you reached out to touch the girls face before noticing her hair. “And your hair— see what did I say all you needed to do was learn to take care of it properly”

A familiar rush flooded your body. How clarisses hands were now squeezing your hips with her body close to yours- so close you could smell her pine cologne. Your cheeks turned red once you realized you were playing with the girls hair

Clearing your throat you pulled back completely taking a few steps away from her. “Sorry I just uh.. I got to excited”

Clarisse shook her head “don’t worry about it.. anyways uh if you still wanna help with all this just grab a sword from over there ok”

You smiled in response. It had been years since you felt like that, Clarisse for some reason always made you get flustered… but that didn’t mean anything.

———

Over the next week you found yourself spending every free second with clarisse.

It was like a breath of fresh air. You both had changed a-lot from being 13 to 16 but the same spark was still between you both. You found it amusing how she could go from an Absolute bully to a sweet heart towards you.

What didn’t help was how attractive the girl was. Her muscular arms and face that was meant to wear greek Armor made you go weak in the knees. Being gay was something you came to terms with years ago but finding yourself falling in love with your best-friend was just cringe. Out of all the girls at camp you choose clarisse.. really

——

The best part of camp in your opinion was the bondfire. Being able to sit around a cozy setting with friends and family warmed your heart in more ways than one.

After some time you were approached by a girl named Willow who you later found out was a daughter of Hermes.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like her. She was tall, strong and had a charming face, And she clearly seemed to like you to. “Don’t lie to me pretty girl you’ve seriously never had your first kiss”

Shaking your head you let out a soft laugh. “No never, actually I’ve never had a girlfriend before” Willow scoffed, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear she leaned forward some. “Well.. I can offer an easy solution to both those problems— that is if you would like it” she tilted her head some.

Before you could answer however clarisse shoved Willow back from where she was making her almost fall out of her seat. “Clarisse what the fuck!”

“She’s not interested Willow, instead of preying on girls who don’t want you why don’t you go fuck around with one of your ex”

Campers looking over, embarrassed enough as it was you Grabbed clarisses arm pulling her away. Quickly finding the Athena cabin you threw the girl inside. “What was That” you almost yelled.

“What was What” she continued to play innocent, now messing around with you stuff— grabbing s mechanical pencil to mess with. “Stop Just stop! Clarisse a girl was finally showing Interest in me—-“

“Yeah a fuck girl who only wants to finger you then break your heart but god forbid I look out for you right!”

“I don’t care about that! It’s still the matter of fact someone liked me and you just—“

“Did you ever stop to think there might me other girls out there better than Willow who like you!”

At this point you were beyond frustrated. “Gods can You stop interrupting me!” You watched as clarisse awkwardly shifted her stance, now feeling bad you sighed walking over to the girl hugging her. “I know I’m new to this whole demigod life and you have no idea how thankful I am for having you here”

Clarisse squeezed you slightly. After a few moments you laughed. “What did you mean by ‘other girls here like me’ I’ve only been here for what like a month?” Clarisse didn’t respond however her actions told you otherwise. The shifting in her feet, the way her eyes avoided yours, how she held you— fuck clarisse liked you.

Once you realized it the daughter of ares knew you already figured it out. She cursed under her breath for a moment but was soon caught up in the fact you had grabbed her face and kissed her. The kiss only lasted for a second even though it wasn’t that great of a kiss it got the point across. “I like you I like you a lot actually uh clarisse your super cool and sweet and I ju—“ you started to anxiously ramble until she cut you off with yet another kiss this time it being more directed and sweet.

Pulling away you smiled, keeping your lips close to the girls “you know what I love about you.. how you always let me finish my sentences” the opposing girl just rolled her eyes making you laugh once again

———

Once you returned to the campfire you were confused as to why people were making teasing remarks at you and clarisse.. until annabeth pointed out your now messed up hair, flushed cheeks, wrinkled shirt and lastly the growing hickey on your neck.

———

Y/n - you are a sociopath these look like you tried to strangle me

Clarisse - Yeah Well you weren’t complaining when I was leaving them there

—

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

Living Dead Girl

(Steve Harrington x Early 00s Goth!FemReader)

Spooky collab with my baby @reidsbtch here is her part Dripping With Sin🎃🖤🦇

Summary: You just moved back to Hawkins and your bestfriend is having a Halloween party, you’re excited to meet all of her friends, but especially excited to meet one in particular. Wk: 5K (divider used is by @firefly-graphics)

Warnings: Reader is dressed as a catholic school girl, Spanking(with a belt), choking (he also chokes her with her rosary at one point oops.) unprotected sex, outside sex (but it’s secluded), use of “sir”, mentions of alcohol, Oral (m receiving), also just some cutie cheesy fluff. 18+MINDI!!

You smiled at yourself in the mirror as you put the finishing touches on your costume. You spent hours altering your old school uniform and it turned out perfect. The skirt that used to go almost to your knees now barely covered your ass, the white button up top that used to fit a bit loose was now snug against you and tied in the middle to reveal your midriff and the top of your red push-up bra.

You finished off the look with some black thigh highs, the old rosary you had tucked away with your uniform stacked with your signature choker and platform boots.

You were both nervous and excited for tonight. You had just moved back to Hawkins a few weeks ago to be closer to your lifelong bestfriend, Iris. Even though your parents forced you to move states and go to an all girls catholic school when you were 13 your friendship never wavered. You spent hours chatting on the phone, sending each other countless IMs through AOL, and even going as far as to write each other letters if one of you was grounded.

It’s something you had been considering for a while, holding out hope that your college life would get better over time but friends came and went and so did guys. The only constant in your life being Iris from thousands of miles away. She had been suggesting it for about a year now, telling you how amazing her boyfriend and all her friends were and how much they’d love you. So after you had a falling out with the closest friend you had back home you finally decided to pull the trigger.

You’ve been back a few weeks now and while you’ve of course seen Iris several times you hadn’t had time to meet her friends or even her boyfriend Eddie yet. She’s told you a lot about all them but the one that you’ve been most excited to meet was Steve. She’s been talking him up to you since before you even moved, and you were hoping he would be just as good as she made him sound.

When you arrived at Iris’ house the party was already in full swing, you weaved through the crowd in search of your bestfriend. Your eyes finally land on her in the kitchen, filling orange and black plastic cups with the punch you were sure had a generous amount of alcohol in it.

“Pookie!!”

Her head shot up at the sound of your voice and a huge smile spread across her lips.

“Pumpkin! Oh my god! You look so sexy!”

You prance over to her and wrap your arms around her like you hadn’t seen her in ages even though you saw her yesterday.

“Me? Look at you, you look good enough to eat! The uniform turned out perfect!”

You watch her eyes wander towards the door and then light up in a way you’ve only ever seen when she sees NYSNC on MTV. You follow her gaze to the person she’s looking at that you could only assume is Eddie.

“Eddie, baby! This is Quinn.” She gestures towards you like you’re a prize on the price is right and it makes you giggle.

“Hi Eddie, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Our girl here has told me so much about you, I feel like I already know your whole life story.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” She playfully slaps your arm and laughs.

“But I thought you were my girl sweetheart?”

Eddie wraps himself around your bestfriend with a pout on his face and a knowing smirk spreads across yours. Iris told you how clingy he is and you have to stop yourself from laughing as you watch it happen in real time.

“Yeah but technically she was my girl first.”

The pout on his face deepens and his arms around her tighten a little and it makes you laugh.

“Aww don’t be so dramatic, she’s totally obsessed with you.” You tease.

“Me? She’s obsessed with you. She never shuts up about you either!”

“Well I guess that just makes us the two coolest people alive then.”

“Hey Harrington! Come over here, I want you to meet someone!” You abruptly halt your banter with Eddie at the sound of his name.

You look behind you and you swear you believe in love at first sight for a second, because holy shit this man is beautiful. His chestnut hair is shiny and slicked back, a leather jacket adorning his broad shoulders, the white tee he’s wearing underneath is tight against his abdomen and those jeans hugged him in all the right ways. When he approaches he leans on the counter next to where you’re standing, up close you can see that he has a toothpick hanging from his lips, his lips that looked extremely fucking kissable. His face looked like it was made with Greek gods in mind, his brown eyes flecked with green and his nose and jaw prominent, and also perfect for kissing. Damn, he hasn’t even said a word to you yet and you’re already thinking about leaving lipstick marks all over him.

“Steve, this is my bestfriend.” She tells Steve your name before winking at you and letting Eddie drag her off into the crowd.

“Hi, I’m Steve.” He smiles at you sweetly and you can’t help but notice that he seems a bit nervous, which makes you want to laugh because he’s standing in front of you looking like that.

“Hi Steve, it's nice to meet you. Iris has told me a lot about not just Eddie, but you too. She’s been really wanting us to meet.” You giggle and turn towards him, resting your hip on the counter so you can look at him better.

“Yeah? She’s uh - she’s told me a lot about you too. She told me you were pretty but wow.” It would’ve sounded like a douchey pick up line if his face wasn’t red as a tomato, his eyes wide and roaming, but bashful.

“Me wow? Look at you.” Your eyes look him up and down while you bite your lip. “I like your costume, a greaser, right?”

“Yeah, it was kind of a last minute decision because I waited too long and this was easy to throw together. I borrowed one of Eddie’s jackets. But I think it turned out okay.” He put his hands in the pockets of the leather jacket before spinning in a circle to give you the full effect.

“I think it turned out great, I like your hair.” You really wanted to tell him that you wanted to take a bite out of his ass but that seemed a bit forward, for now.

“Thanks honey, I like your costume too. Naughty school girl?.” His eyes roamed your whole body now and you didn’t miss the way they lingered on your cleavage and thighs just a little longer than the rest of you.

“Yeah? It’s my old school uniform that I altered. But I think it turned out okay.” You smirk at him before throwing his actions back at him and giving him a spin, your skirt going up just long enough for him to get a view of your ass.

“Your old school uniform? Fuck…Yeah, I like it. I like your shoes. And your necklace.” But what he really wanted to say was that he wanted to worship every inch of your body and kiss you until he couldn’t breathe anymore but that seemed a bit forward, for now.

You look down at your combat boot clad feet and giggle, your hand subconsciously reaching up to touch the studded choker that adorned your neck.

“Pumpkin!!! It’s our song!!” You hear Iris a second before the fact that Living Dead Girl had just started playing through the speakers.

“Sorry, I’ll be back! Duty calls!” You give him a quick kiss on the cheek, leaving behind a dark red lipstick stain before skipping off to the middle of the living room.

You felt eyes on you as you and Iris’ bodies moved closely together to the beat. You had glanced over your shoulder once to see a very pouty yet adorable Eddie staring directly at your bestfriend but you couldn’t stop looking at Steve. His eyes were locked in on you as your hips swayed and your short skirt lifted with each movement. You look him directly in the eyes and smirk as you back against Iris, grinding your ass against her. Your staring game abruptly ends when Eddie walks over demanding your bestfriend’s attention. You wave her off with a knowing smile before finding your way back to Steve.

“Eddie is such a baby I swear, I can’t believe he was jealous of that, that was fucking hot.” Steve snorts, teasing his friend and complimenting you at the same time.

“Iris told me he was clingy, but damn, that boy is attached. It’s cute though, they’re really cute together. Opposites attract and all that.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure I believed in that until I saw those two. But I definitely do now.” The look in his eyes said more than his words and you felt your cheeks flush.

As the night went on you and Steve got closer, getting to know each other, having a few drinks together. You eventually found your way into his lap on the couch and all you wanted to do was shove your tongue down his throat and grind down on him but you didn’t feel like having your first kiss with him in the middle of a crowded living room.

“You wanna go somewhere with me Stevie?” You bring your hand to his face, running your thumb over the apple of his cheek.

“Yeah. Anywhere.”

“What? Scared of a little trespassing, pretty boy?” You smirk at him as you hike your leg up on the fence that you’ve climbed countless times before.

“Don’t worry, me and Iris used to sneak back here all the time when we were kids, it’s safe, promise. Now come on.”

You climb the fence and drop down on the other side before he even has a chance to respond. The fence rattles and you see Steve’s large hands grasp onto the top, you watch as he pulls himself up and jumps over in one swift motion. Hot.

“Show off.” You snort and roll your eyes.

“I can’t help that I’m not only devilishly handsome but naturally athletic.” Steve smirks and you can’t help it when you bust up laughing.

“Okaaay, someone’s been watching too much Zoolander.”

“Hey! You know what… actually, you’re probably right.” Steve’s face settles in his attempt to pull off “blue steel” and it sends you into a second fit of laughter. His deep laughter joins yours and you can’t help but think you’d like to make him laugh like that again and again.

“Oh noooo, he’s found my greatest weakness!! However will I resist the blue steel? Looks like my only choice is to run!!” You take off running, weaving through the apple trees like you have dozens of times before, platform boots be damned.

“You can’t get away that easily!!” You hear Steve’s converse clad feet crunching the fallen leaves as he chases after you.

You take a sharp left and halt when you see your destination, your favorite tree, quickly ducking behind it.

“Pretty little girls always think they can hide from big bad wolves but that’s often not the case.” He dropped his voice octave and you know it’s meant to sound goofy but it makes your thighs clench.

“Ohhhh cute little school mouse, come out, come out wherever you aaaare.” You hear his footsteps approaching the tree and you feel anticipation grow in your belly.

“GOTCHA!!!” Steve pops up behind you, his hands grab your shoulders and you let out a yelp.

“Oh my fucking god! You scared the shit out of me asshole!!” You turn around and land a playful slap on his chest.

“Maybe next time you’ll think twice about teasing me and then making me chase you through a giant apple orchard.”

“I don’t know… I don’t think I’d mind if you chased me around, Steve Harrington.” You bite your lip as your eyes roam over his body. He looks good enough to eat.

“Yeah? You like getting chased, baby? Want me to stalk you like my prey?” He steps closer to you, so close that you can feel the heat radiating off of him and smell the mix of beer and cinnamon gum on his breath.

“Yeah. I think I’d like that.” You bite your lip and your thighs subconsciously rub together.

“Maybe some other time…” He closes the small amount of distance remaining between the two of you and reaches his hand up to push a piece of fallen hair off your face. “Right now, I’d really like to kiss you.”

“Yeah? I think I’d like that too.”

One hand cups your jaw and the other comes to rest on your hip so he can pull you flush against him, Steve’s lips meet yours and he kisses you with passion, he kisses you like a boyfriend would and it makes your knees weak. You bring your hands up to fist the collar of his jacket as he guides you backwards until your back hits the tree. His body presses against yours and you can feel that he’s already starting to get hard.

“Mmm I’ve been wanting to do that all fucking night.” He groans as he pulls away for air, both hands now resting on your hips as his body traps you between him and the tree.

“I’ve been waiting for you to do that all night.”

“Looks like I’ll have to do it again then.” His lips met yours again but this time the kiss was more desperate, his tongue swipes against your bottom lip and you dart yours out to meet his, the taste of him making your pussy throb. You feel his gum glide over your tongue and take it into your mouth before pulling away.

“Don’t you know you aren’t supposed to have gum in class, Mr. Harrington?”

“Mr. Harrington, huh? Don’t the teachers make the rules? If that’s the case then I say we can have gum in class…” He licks his lips as he watches you pull the end of the gum from your mouth and twirl it around your finger.

“You want me to do what you say, Mr. Harrington? Is that what you’re saying?” You swirl the gum all the way around your finger before inserting the digit in your mouth to pull it off.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Have you been a good girl? Did you do last night's homework?” He presses you up against the tree, his cock rubs against your inner thigh and you can feel that he’s huge, his caramel eyes that were flecked with hues of green before look black in the light of the moon while he’s looking at you like he wants to eat you alive.

“No… but…” you bring your black pointed acrylic nails up to his face and drag them lightly down his neck to his chest. “Isn’t there something I could do for extra credit, sir?” You give him your best ‘innocent girl’ pout and bat your eyelashes at him.

“I’m sure we can figure something out… but first I have to punish you for not doing your work.” He grabs your jaw in his large hand and squishes your cheeks together while he shakes your head from side to side. “Hmmm… what am I gonna do with you, huh little mouse? Maybe I should spank you with my belt till you cry?”

Your eyes roll in the back of your head and you moan, the way he quickly transitioned into this dominant role making your head spin.

“You like the sound of that? You’re such a naughty girl.” He has no idea how crazy this is making you, not only were you getting fucked by a boy dressed as a greaser outside on Halloween in your old school uniform that you altered to show way more skin than would be school appropriate but he was basically role playing with you.

Steve was in a similar boat, he genuinely couldn’t believe this was happening. He was mostly just playing it up, maybe testing the waters a little bit, but if you actually let him spank you right here right now he thinks he might fall in love with you.

“If that’s what you think I deserve, sir…” you give him that look again and Steve actually moans, he hasn’t felt like he was going to cum in his pants for years but right now, with you looking at him like that, he thinks he could.

“Turn around and bend over.” His tone is stern and matter of fact and you wouldn’t dare disobey him, even if you wanted to.

You spin around and place both your hands on the tree with your ass sticking out just enough that your tiny skirt rides up to reveal your ass cheeks and a sliver of your red lace panties.

“Jesus fucking christ, baby, you look so sexy like this fuck.” Steve momentarily forgets about your little game, his brain feeling like it was about to short circuit. “Too bad I have to punish you… I’d love to just throw you down in the dirt and have my way with you right now. But you still have to learn your lesson.”

“Yes Mr. Harrington, please teach me a lesson.” You whine and wiggle your ass, causing your skirt to ride up further. The anticipation is killing you as you wait for him to do something, but then you hear it… the sound of his belt clanking open.

He pushes your skirt further up your ass and he rubs his hand over one of the soft cheeks before harshly smacking it. He bites his lip at the little whimper that escapes your mouth and the way the fat on your ass jiggles. A second smack comes down on the other cheek and you let out a loud moan. His hand leaves you and you almost want to cry but then you’re crying out for a different reason when you feel it snake around your hair and yank your head back.

“You gonna be a good girl and count for me? How many do you think you deserve? I say ten.” You feel him bring his belt up to your ass cheeks and run it across them, he swipes it between your thighs and over your pussy, rubbing it along your slick panties.

“Whatever you think is best, sir.” Your voice comes out syrupy sweet.

He leans over you so his lips are grazing your ear “If you want me to stop say red. Now count.”

He stands back to his full height and without warning a loud smack lands on your ass causing you to yelp and surge forward.

“One.”

“Good girl. Again.” Another smack comes down on the same cheek and the sting is delicious.

“Two.”

Another smack on the same cheek followed immediately by a third on the opposite cheek.

“Three - fuck - four.” He releases his grip on your hair to rub his large hand over your ass before landing another smack.

“F-five!”

The next three came swiftly but you still counted each one.

“Good girl, you’re doing so good for me. Just two more, okay?” The bark of the tree was digging into your hands and your ass was burning, Steve’s hand came up to rub over your reddened cheeks and you sigh.

“Yes please.” Is all you can muster and you hear him practically growl behind you before the ninth smack lands on your ass.

“Nine!”

“Good girl baby, that’s my good girl, just one more.”

You brace yourself for the last smack on your ass but it doesn’t come, instead the belt comes up between your legs and smacks against your pussy through your wet panties.

“Ten! Fuck!” You clench your thighs and throw your head back and Steve immediately steps up behind you, wrapping you in his arms.

“Mmm you were so good for me little mouse, I think you deserve your reward now, what do you say?” His hands wrap around you and come up to grab your tits through your shirt while he rubs his hard cock against your ass.

You turn around in his arms and take his face in your hands, kissing him urgently.

“How do you want me, Mr. Harrington?”

You’re still giving him that look and you have this smile on your face like he just got you the gift you wanted most for your birthday. He’s pretty sure you’re his dream girl.

“First, let’s get this off of you.” He reaches for the knot on your shirt that’s keeping it held together and pulls it, the shirt easily falling open to reveal your red lace push-up.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

The way he was looking at you could only be described as romantic and loving, which was a stark contrast from how he was smacking your ass raw just moments ago. His hands reach up and ghost over your collar bones and down your arms, he snakes them around your back before looking at you with a question in his eyes and you nod. As soon as he gets the go ahead he’s unclasping your bra and letting it fall down your arms in one swift motion. Goosebumps rise on your skin as the cool air hits it, causing your nipples to harden immediately.

“The most perfect tits I’ve ever seen.” He leans down to press hot wet kisses along your throat and collar bones. You feel him sucking a bruise into your throat and you gasp, both at the feeling and at the thought of being marked by him. Without warning you pull away from him and drop to your knees in front of him, looking up at him with big eyes that shone in the moonlight.

“Can I suck you off? Please?”

“You don’t have to say please, pretty girl.”

He smirks down at you as he undoes his button and zipper, pulling his boxers and jeans down enough for his cock to come out. When it springs from his pants you can’t hold in the gasp that leaves your lips. It’s big, long and thick and veiny with a well trimmed patch of brown curls at the base. His tip is leaking precum and he is so fucking hard it almost looks painful. You meet his eyes with yours again, spitting in your hand and bringing it to his cock, pumping him a few times before you lean in and lick the salty cum from his head.

“Fuck baby, you’re so sexy like this. On your knees for me in the middle of an orchard in nothing but that little skirt and those socks.” That fucking choker and those boots that he was sure could crush him, he’d let you crush him if you asked.

You take him in your mouth as far down as you can, letting your throat restrict around him before pulling off again for air. You take as much as you can in your mouth and use your hand to glide along with the movements of your mouth. Spit is dripping down your chin, his cock and all over his balls. When you pull off and look up at him he has to physically stop himself from cumming. You’re still jerking him off when you lean in and take one of his balls in your mouth and hum around it. You switch to the other side and he swears he’s losing his mind, he’s never had someone pay attention to his balls like this and your mouth is so warm and wet and if he looks close enough he can see that drool has started to drip down onto your chest.

“O -oh fuck - fuck - shit!” He grips onto your hair to pull you off of him. “God damn, you’re so good, such a good girl. Why don’t you get on your hands and knees for me so I can reward you?”

Instead of responding with words you turn your back towards him and rest your hands on the soft dirt and leaves that covered the ground, you arch so your ass is in the air and look over your shoulder at him. You bite your lip as you watch him take off the leather jacket followed by his shirt and discard them on the ground. He comes up behind you and gets down on his knees, shoving your skirt up over your ass once more. There’s a moment where he pauses and you figure he must’ve noticed your tattoo. You and Iris went to the tattoo shop a few weeks ago and while she got her nipples pierced, you got a tramp stamp.

“Look at these pretty marks on your ass honey, they go so well with your pretty little tattoo, you’re going to be thinking about me for days after this.” He runs his hands over your hips, hooking his fingers into the band of your underwear and pulling them down so they pooled at your knees.

“I’m gonna be thinking about this for the rest of my life, pretty boy.”

“Yeah? And I haven’t even fucked you yet.” He runs his cock through your slick folds, tapping it on your clit a few times before lining it up with your entrance. He pushes his tip in and out a few times before he starts to slowly thrust into you.

Normally you would appreciate him taking his time to let you adjust but right now he has you outside on your knees in the fucking dirt and you want him to ruin you.

“You don’t have to be gentle, I want it rough.” You push your ass back towards him causing his dick to go a few inches deeper. He thrusts the rest of the way into you pushing his hips flush against yours before starting to fuck into you at a brutal pace.

He’s gripping your hips so hard that you hope you have bruises tomorrow, and the noises coming out of him are making you insane. If anyone heard you guys they might think wild animals were fighting.

“You’re so fucking good little mouse, letting me fuck you on the ground like this? God - fuck!”

You don’t think it can get any better than this and then he proves you wrong, you feel his hand wrap around the beads of the rosary on your neck and tug, choking you with it.

“Oh my god - god Steve, fuck! S-so good it’s so g-good.”

He changes his pace slightly, hitting the exact right spot inside you. He drops the rosary so he can snake that hand around the front of you to rub your clit.

“I’m gonna - I’m gonna c-cum Steve, I’m gonna cum.” Your eyes roll in the back of your head and your pussy clenches around him as your orgasm crashes through you.

“F-fuck FUCK! You’re so fucking good, so so good, fuck!” His thrusts turn sloppy and then he’s spilling into you.

“God fucking damn Harrington, you really know how to introduce yourself to a girl.” You giggle as you turn around, letting his cock slip out of you. After you pull your panties up you stand up with shaky legs, looking down at him with an adoring smile.

“I swear I’m usually more of a ‘take her to dinner first’ kinda guy but that whole ‘Mr. Harrington’ thing you did really got me going. I can't lie.” He chuckled, standing up and buttoning his pants. He reaches down to grab your bra off the ground and does a spinning motion with his finger, indicating for you to turn around. You oblige, and you’re pleasantly surprised when you feel him guiding your arms back through your bra. He does the same with your shirt, spinning you around so he can redo the tie. He gives you a sweet kiss and then picks up his shirt and jacket to put them back on. You smile bashfully at him, after all that the thing that makes you blush is him treating you sweetly.

“Thank you Steve, you’re very sweet. It’s also not too late for you to take me to dinner.”

“You’re right little mouse, it’s not, would you like to go to dinner with me? This weekend? Maybe we can catch a movie. Iris told me you like vampires and I saw that a new one is coming out, damned queen or something?”

“Queen of the damned? I really want to see that! I would love to, Stevie!” Your heart swells at the fact that he remembers that little detail about you and you remind yourself to thank Iris later.

“Shall we head back to the party?”

“Ugh, if we must.” You sigh dramatically and playfully roll your eyes. Knowing damn well you are about to walk back into this party looking absolutely wrecked. Your socks were covered in dirt, your ass was bright red and your skirt did little to cover it, and you hadn’t seen it yet but you know with the way Steve was sucking on your neck you have one or two hickies there. But you couldn’t bring it in yourself to care, you would do it all over again.

When you walk back into the party Iris immediately catches your eye, bounding over to you and whisking you off to the bathroom. You observe her and you can tell you weren’t the only one who just got fucked in the middle of a party.

“Soooo… you took him to the orchard, huh?”

“Oh, I took him there alright, Harrington is a freak. But I guess Eddie is too, huh?” You point to her legs and she looks up at you with flushed cheeks when she sees you’re pointing at the obviously dried cum that had dripped down one of her thighs.

“Well Eddie reaaaaally liked the piercings. It looks like Steve really liked your costume…”

“Oh, you have no idea…”

[veryintricaterituals]

I am Jewish, what does that mean?

I was born in Colombia on the 49th anniversary of Hitler's suicide, I was raised here but I lived in Israel for about four years. I am not white, I don't look white, and my first language is Spanish. I came back to Colombia three years ago because of the pandemic.

I grew up Jewish and swallowed all the pro-Israel propaganda, I moved there looking for better opportunities and somewhere safe where I could come out of the closet. It took me less than a month to understand where I really had ended up in. It wasn't so different from my own colonized third world country filled with violence.

I did my best, I voted against the current Israeli government four separate times, I worked with and was great friends with many Palestinians and Arab Israelis (there unfortunately is a difference), I went to protests, I donated blood, I donated food and money. I fucking hate Netanyahu with all my heart.

For two years I taught English at a low income school in Jerusalem where all my students were mizrahi jews (from Arab countries) whose families had been kicked out of various surrounding countries in the 20th century. When I spoke to their parents and grandparents they talked about Iran, Morroco, Egypt, Yemen, with such longing and they brought me the most delicious foods. (Two of my students were killed two weeks ago, kids, barely 18 now, much younger when I taught them, I remember them).

My great grandmother on my mom's side was born in Jerusalem and raised in Egypt until all Jews were expelled and she had to flee with my newborn grandfather. They ended up in Colombia because she spoke ladino (Jewish dialect that is close to Spanish) they were undocumented, without a nationality because Egypt had rejected them, they had to lie and pay for falsified documents in order to get a passport, I still have a Red Cross passport in my house with my grandfather's name that determines he has no home country.

My great grandparents on my dad's side were born and raised in Bielorrusia and had to escape with my newborn paternal grandfather from the progroms after they destroyed their shtetl, they tried to make it to the US but they wouldn't take any more Jews so they ended up in Colombia.

My great grandmother on my paternal side was born in Romania, at the age of 12 she got on a boat with her 15 year old cousin, not knowing where it would take them. Her parents had both died and antisemitism was on the rise. She was so afraid that they were going to send her back that she threw her passport (that said JEW in capital letters) into the sea when they arrived at the port of a country she had never heard of, to this day we don't know when her birthday was.

My maternal grandmother is Colombian, she was born and raised here, Catholic until she converted to marry my grandfather, and yet when I went looking up our family tree I found we came from Sephardic Jews that had been expelled from Spain almost 500 years ago by the inquisition.

There are less than 400 Jews in my city that homes over 4 million people. My synagogue has been closed since October 12th, our president has equated all of Israel with Nazism on multiple occasions in the last few weeks. The kids that go to our tiny Jewish school have stopped wearing the uniform so that they cannot be identified. Ours is one of the countries with the least amount of antisemitism in the world. Someone in my university saw my Magen David necklace and screamed at me to go back where I came from. I went online and saw countless posts telling Israelis to do the same.

I am Jewish, I am latina, I am gay. My story is complicated, my relationship with my community is complicated, my relationship with my country is complicated. My relationship with G-d is complicated, my relationship with Israel is incredibly complicated. My history is complicated.

I am Jewish. What does that mean?

[mrsstan21]

A Night to Remember

GIF credit: @21jumpstreet-x-reader

Summary: The gang heads to prom!

Tom Hanson x Reader 

A/N: Based on season 1, episode 6 "The Worst Night of Your Life"

Warnings: None! Fluffy as one can be

Word Count: 1.9k :)

Hobbs and I were put on a case together at a catholic school for girls.

 Apparently someone in the school has been committing Arson. 

It was a pain being in a place like this. It brought back so many memories from when I was in High School. 

Hobbs, and I were in health class, it was sex ed week. 

We were about to watch a video on the “wonderful life of marriage”. 

A girl in the class made a smart comment causing us all to break out into laughter. 

When the video started it was far from a perfect marriage, but more like the honeymoon at its extreme. 

The sisters quickly took out the tape as more laughter filled the class room. 

Just as we were about to get a lecture the fire alarm went off all the girls began to panic frantically running down the halls. 

***

We got back to the chapel completely tired, and exhausted. 

The guys all concern asked if we were ok.

“Medium well, thank you” Judy spoke taking a seat next to Jenko. 

I took a seat over next to Hanson. 

“How much longer do we have to be on this case I’m starting to get tired of wearing this god awful uniform” I spoke losing the tie around my neck. 

“Until we figure out who is trying to set the school on fire” Jenks answered. 

“Hobbs anything on today” he asked.

“Two kids got trampled on went to the hospital from smoke inhalation, and bruises, but they’ll be ok”.

“Those girls were like a herd of wild horses almost ran over me as we got out of the school” I spoke. 

Jenks was growing with frustration we were getting no where with this case. 

But Hobbs and I still had a ray of hope we’d close this case. 

Hanson spoke out on some files we had of some of the girls that attend the school. 

One of them had a very distinct background check and was on the prom planning community. 

“looks like you girls are joining the prom community”.

I groaned leaning onto Hansons shoulder. 

“What’s wrong with you” Ayoki asked.

“I’m reliving my senior year of high school that’s what’s wrong”. 

I got tired of this stupid tie that I finally just tore it off my collar.

“Oh yeah didn’t you go to catholic school” Penhall chimed into the conversation.

I rolled my eyes.

“You went to catholic school?” Hanson raised an eyebrow at me. 

“St. Mary’s Academy school for girls class of 78”. 

“Oh man that must have been hell” Ayoki commented. 

“It was…”.

***

The next day Hobbs, and I joined the prom community, and it was pure torture . 

These girls bickered over a stupid theme and how most of them didn’t have dates. 

Hobbs, and I payed very close attention to three girls who were there. 

Jane, Margie, and Patty. 

It was clear as day that Patty, and Jane hated each other. 

Patty made a hurtful comment towards Margie causing her to run out of the gym.

Yup I was reliving my old high school days. 

***

Hobbs stayed back to see if she could get any sort of information out of Jane. 

I changed out of the uniform, and into some casual cloths before catching the trolly back to the chapel. 

When I arrived Doug was frantically searching for a girl who had robbed him last night. 

“Still looking Penhall” I asked sitting on the table that Hason sat near. 

“Hasn’t stopped since this morning” Hanson informed me.

“Ah that’s the girl” he practically screamed.

Ripping out the photo of her he walks over to where I was leaning on the table. 

“Looks like you’re my date to the prom” he spoke looking over at me. 

Jenks then interrupted informing us that there would most likely not be a prom. 

Jane was caught last night almost setting fire to mother superiors office. 

Hobbs, and I couldn’t believe it. 

We made an agreement she’d blow her cover while I stayed back and see if we can clear her name. 

I had a strong feeling that Jane was not our girl. 

***

The rest of the day I wanted to do nothing more than to relax. 

I laid down on the couch near Hanson reading one of my books I keep in my drawer. 

“Hey y/n you remember your prom” Penhall asked from his desk. 

“Vividly” I spoke turning the page. 

“Well what happened?” He asks grabbing a chair and sitting closer to where I was. 

I looked over at him, and chuckled. 

“You guys do not want to hear that sob story. 

“Uh we very much do don’t we Hanson”.

I looked over at Hanson giving me a smile. 

“Alright then” I huffed.

Sitting up I took a deep breath. 

Can’t believe I am about to tell this story. 

“It was senior year of high school. Jake Russel captain of the football team over at Peters Prep for boys had asked me to the prom. Which was strange considering he was the most popular guy at his school, and was asking me captain of the debate team to the dance...But hey I was stocked I had a date. I remember working long shifts down at the record store to save enough money to buy this beautiful lavender dress. Well come prom night I got ready and waited for him to pick me up. But as time passed the clock stroke 11 and the dance was over. I had officially been stood up”.

Penhall, Hanson, and Ayoki all gave me sympathetic looks.  

“That guy’s a jerk” Hanson commented.

“Yeah he was. The next day at school I found out he took Laura Penning-way to the prom instead”.

“Let me guess captain of the cheer team" Penhall asked.

“Yup”. 

“Jesus y/n that’s terrible” Ayoki spoke.

“It’s whatever...really not like I cried myself to sleep that night. Just sucks that dress never got to see a dance floor or even got to slow dance”. 

“So maybe this can be like a do over for you” Ayoki smiles.

“I don’t think so guys I think I might sit this one out with Jenko. Be there as backup” I got up and walked over to get a coffee. 

***

Before night fall I went back home to grab all the files we had on the girls. 

I knew we were getting close, and tonight we would crack this case. 

I sat by my coffee table examining the documents when there was a knock at my door. 

I opened it reliving a smiling Hobbs.

“Shouldn’t you be at the chapel getting ready for this lame dance” I looked down at my watch. 

She comes in with a big black cover draped over her shoulder.

“You are going tonight” she smiles. 

I laugh crossing my arms.

“Hobbs I already talked to Jenko…”

“Well he changed his mind, you’re still going undercover tonight whether you like it or not”. 

I roll my eyes knowing there was no way out of this. 

Then I remembered something.

“I don’t even have a dress”.

“That’s what the bag is for” she motions towards it. 

I had only owned one dress in my entire life, and couldn’t possibly think it was the one. 

Unzipping the bag was the lavender dress from my prom night many years ago. 

“You broke into my storage unit” I laughed. 

“Maybe I did, but we don’t have time for that the guys are waiting for us at the chapel so let’s go”.

I was then dragged out of my apartment.

***

“I can’t believe this thing still fits after all these years” I said fixing the bottom of my skirt. 

“You look great y/n” she smiles.

Jenko yells for Hobbs and I to come downstairs.

Making our grand entrance the guys took notice at both Hobbs, and I. 

After all they weren’t use to seeing us all dressed up.

“Alright you both looking stunning…now you’re dates Hobbs you’re with Ayoki, y/n your with Penhall, and Hanson your date is Jane” Jenko spoke.

We then left to the prom.  

***

At the dance I was a little uncomfortable in the beginning, but slowly started to have fun. 

Penhall, Hobbs, Ayoki, and I were all dancing like there was no tomorrow. 

The song quickly changed into a slow dance. 

I looked over at Hanson who was left all by himself. 

“Dough you think I can sit this one out” I asked. 

He nodded knowing where I was going with this. 

I made my way over to Hanson who was already smiling. 

“You plan on standing here taking notes all night”

He laughs looking over at me.

“I thought you were dancing with Penhall” he asks.

“Nah you looked like you needed some company” I smile. 

Hanson stares at me for a while. 

I took a moment looking into those dark brown eyes of his.

Before I knew it he grabbed my hand, and lead me to the dance floor. 

But before we can even begin I saw Margie walk in with a blank stare on her face. 

Everything then began to happen so quickly. 

She slapped Doug, then rushing over to the wall with a lighter. 

Flames quickly emerged, and everyone began to run out of the gym. 

I lost my grip on Hanson when i was pushed around by the crowed.

I then fell onto the floor only inches away from the fire. 

Feeling the sweat already form on my forehead. 

“y/n!!!” I felt a pair of arms wrap around me helping me up, and out of the gym. 

“You ok” I saw the look of concern plastered on Hansons face.

I nod. 

He pulled me into his chest wrapping his arms safely around me.

***

Looks like Margie was the one setting flames to the school.

 She was arrested and we successfully closed another case. 

The dance ended early, but me, Ayoki, and Penhall weren’t ready to go home. 

Hanson ended up suggesting something to us. 

We found ourselves at a bowling alley that Hanson plays on with a team. 

Doug, and Ayoki were not amused. 

I kinda enjoyed Hanson get so into this game. 

I laughed every time he shouted. 

“Another slamerino!”.  

Hours went by until we were the only one here.

“Hey Hanson can we leave they’re about to close, and we’re the last ones here” Penhall shouted..

“Alright let’s go then” Hanson spoke putting away his bowling ball. 

Doug and Ayoki were the first ones out. 

I began to follow. 

“Hey y/n wait” I heard Hanson call for me. 

I turned back around and saw him begin to get a little nervous. 

“What’s wrong” I ask. 

“Hey Joey hit the lights” he says to the guy at the counter. 

Confused at first, but then I saw all the lights go off and a large disco ball fell from the ceiling. 

A slow song came on shorty after. 

I chuckled looking over at him shyly smiling. 

“Hanson what are you doing”. 

“I believe I still owe you a slow dance” he walks over, and grabs my hand. 

“Hanson you don’t have to do this” I tried to hide my blush. 

“Oh but I want to” he smiles pulling me closer. 

I couldn’t help but smile as I wrapped one arm around his neck while he held my other, and began to dance. 

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” He asks staring into my eyes. 

“Hanson you are too much” I smile resting my head on his chest. 

I wrapped my other arm around his neck, and felt both his hands around my waste. 

His head rested on mine. 

Time suddenly stopped. 

I could hear the sound of his heart beat increase as I was in his arms.

We danced for the rest of the night. 

This was a prom I would never forget.

[lola-legendary]

Apology Post (with extra info)

TW! Suicidal thoughts/Intrusive thoughts, poor grammar

(Note: Every hate message I receive referring to the post below will be posted here as well. Pin of shame, bastards!)

I edited this lightly to add some extra information and move the TLDR up here, and added a cut.

Now, with the explanation, things have calmed down a bit. However, due to poor conduct, asks are going to be turned off until Sunday (25/2) and anon asks will be on back at 1/3.

If it continues when I resume anon asks, everything will be off again.

TLDR: I felt guilty and my mental health deteriorated because of the war, so I blocked the Palestine tag and received heavy backlash.

So the post I am referring to is this one. (Note: Said post has now been deleted by yours truly.)

Here, I will detail why I made this post, the events leading up to it and the backlash.

Some background information: I am a 14–year-old girl with unmediated anxiety and depression.

I have always been concerned about human rights. Even when I was a child, I would ask my mom, “Why do we have wars? Why can’t everyone get along?”

I tried to write a letter to my principal asking for more extensive sex ed, but scrapped it once I remembered that I was in a catholic school.

And when the Ukrainian war came along - biggest incident since I got access to tumblr - I was a staunch supporter of Ukraine. When I wasn’t in uniform, I made a point to dress in blue and yellow. No one noticed, of course.

In the early days of the Palestinian Genocide, I was eager to reblog any and all information that crossed my dash, even though I knew I couldn’t do anything to help. If you scroll down deep enough, you can find my posts.

However, as time passed and the war went on, whenever I saw those posts, I started getting thoughts to off myself. Those included, though not limited to:

“Oh, wow, look at you scrolling tumblr while millions are dying. Good job you, why don’t you go and join Hitler in hell, you’re contributing to this mess.”

And it got so bad that I would have mini panic attacks whenever I saw some posts like that.

I blocked the tag last year.

At that time, I sent an anonymous ask to @justagingerwithredhair, one of two people I trusted decently with my mental issues.

I can’t find it anymore, but it went something like this:

“Ginger, I’m sorry but I had to block the Palestine tag, it’s detrimental to my mental health and I can’t deal with it anymore”

and it was received positively.

Yesterday (in my timezone), I posted the post seen in the photo. I had not enough brainpower to realise that it could be taken both ways.

I was blocked by at least one person and received the following anonymous ask.

You can see my response in my blog, but I will repeat it again.

I am not a terrorist, a genocidal maniac, an Islamophobic bitch or a Zionist.

I have spoken out against Israel. I watch videos of Islamophobic people with disgust. I was outraged when the Holocaust was not required teaching in my school. I believe the Israeli Government is in the wrong.

If you keep this up I will be the one hanging from buildings.

You have made me write a post about my life that’s longer than 90% of my fanfictions. Congratulations.

@tobefree-in-palestine

[starbounddragon]

I am 6 years old and my family tries to call me Lexi.

They tell me it's a nickname

It is uncomfortable in a way I don't have words for

Like the Easter dress my mother always made me wear

There is an ache in my whole body I cannot explain

I ask them not to call me that

It's years before they listen

I am 8 and my best friend is a boy

I play sports and read books and detest Barbies

I am branded "tomboy"

It fits like wearing my dad's oversized baseball mitt

Roomy, not uncomfortable, but not right

I am told I should be more ladylike

I am 10 sitting with the other girls from my class

They ask why I never wear the uniform skirt

I tell them I just prefer to wear the pants.

I do not explain how I begged my mother not to buy any skirts.

I do not explain the panic I felt when I tried it in on at the uniform store.

I just prefer pants.

I am 12 and my best friend switches schools

The same girls ask if I miss him

They ask if we're dating.

My face grows hot and I forget how to speak

Before I can deny it another girl scoffs

She says my shoulders are too broad

She says I am not a pretty girl

She means it as an insult

Why am I relieved when she says I'm not a girl

13 and I have a new best friend

A girl this time

It feels different in a way I don't have words for

She doesn't go to my school

For the first time I beg my parents for a cell phone

I text her every day

The school year starts and I have my first health class

I go to a Catholic school

The two "teachers", a youth pastor and the ccd coordinator, tell my class to hate the sin, love the sinner

One of them says she loves her brother but he's going to hell for his "gay lifestyle".

To their merit, my classmates are outraged.

Their uncle, oldest brother, cousin, is gay.

They protest on behalf of their loved ones.

The teacher does not change her stance.

I am ashamed.

I am afraid.

I am silent.

I am 14 and I hold a door open for a stranger and his kid

The man tell his son to "say thank you sir"

I feel like a fish on dry land

I feel my broad shoulders

I feel like wearing a uniform skirt

I feel tomboy

I feel Lexi

He's gone before I correct him

How do I run from this

15 and I only wear blouses and push up bras

I only wear my hair down

I can't bring myself to wear a skirt

My highschool is Christian not Catholic

Chapel every Wednesday reminds us girls to honor our husbands

Health on Fridays says babies are God's plan

There is no path more fulfilling than joyful motherhood

I tell my teacher I do not want to be a mother

She assures me she didn't either at 15

Her husband changed her mind at 20

The rage I feel is familiar

So is the grief

This is the year I learn the term asexual

This is the year I learn I am not aromantic

This is the year I become two people

My family and school friends are all conservative

We do group activities

We talk about their lives

I keep them at arms length

They don't ask

They don't notice

They don't want to know

My summer camp friends are all queer

I tell them everything

My girl best friend is one of them

She's pansexual

I realize I'm in love with her

I also realize I can't have a girlfriend

Not like this

Not as two people

I'm not ready

We're 16 and she tells me she's gender fluid

She tells me her pronouns are she/they

I didn't realize a person could be that

I wish I could be they too.

They call me Lex.

It doesn't hurt.

At 20 I learn the term agender and it feels like finding something I didn't know I was looking for.

I'm still two people but not as much anymore.

25 is the first time I say it out loud to other people

Friends from college who are also they/them

And for the first time since 15 I feel like a whole person.

[lithium-poet]

D told me about his high school today. It’s a standard catholic high school in a small town nearby, with almost no social media presence and a website that was probably very cheaply designed in the late 2000s.

I scavenge for any clues he may have left from his youth like a starving animal searching for prey. I went through the poorly organised website, and there was something in me that made me click on the uniform shop. I discovered that their uniform is surprisingly similar to ours (well, there are only so many ways that a plaid skirt, a shirt and knee high socks can vary). A disgusting thought crossed my mind.

Dear D, I wonder if the way I wear my uniform reminds you of your first love in high school. I imagine her in an untucked shirt and a rolled up skirt and the same knee socks that I wear, leaning on the wall of the music room the way that I do every day.

And I then imagine you at my age, locking yourself in your bedroom writing abstruse songs for her on that old cranky piano, completely unaware of the passage of time. I imagine the way you talked about her in your bassist's basement when you'd have practice, the way you looked at her during theatre rehearsals, and the way you gathered up your courage to ask her to go to the formal with you. I imagine you working at your summer job as a cashier saving up for a guitar, feeling lost about your future and scared of the passage of time, being the first to get your drivers license in your friend group and driving your friends around blasting alternative rock, and it made me cry.

He was once just like me too.

I took the liberty to indulge myself in hypothesising his adolescence and thought of the lyrics to Lana Del Rey's Text Book.

𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒, 𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶

[aughtpunk]

Not a question, but I am so, so curious about your catholic school experience.

Previous attendee here

My school was on a monastery though and a lot of teachers were monks/priests

There was a lot of drinking. Like a lot. The trash cans were regularly full of beer cans

Some of the monks were pretty chill though. My Latin teacher kept a steak knife in his desk drawer

Fucking hated the uniforms. Still regret I didn't burn my blazer after graduating

Oh man my experience was completely different. Save for the uniforms, those are horrible no matter where you go. I literally have nightmares about them to this day.

My Catholic school was...interesting. I went in the late 80s/early 90s during a period of time when things were becoming sliiiiiiiightly more progressive. For example, when my older brother went to the same school they still didn't allow students to be left handed. So my very much left handed brother hand to learn to write and do everything with his right hand because Satan lives in the left hand or something. But by the time I went to St. Rose they were shockingly okay with letting left handed students exist although I'm sure it absolutely killed the Nuns on the inside.

The Nuns. God, the Nuns. Here's a story which I think will explain what it's like being taught by Nuns: Once a Nun explained to me that if took crayons from a desk of a student that wasn't in that day, used the crayons, and then returned them, that was stealing and I was going to burn in hell for all eternity for my sin. I was probably five or six when I was told this. I think because they legally couldn't hit us anymore they just doubled-down on telling us that literally anything we did would make God hate us. Which backfired, really. If God's going to make me go to hell for borrowing crayons then it really doesn't matter if he disproves of the rest of my life, you know?

One thing I will give old St. Rose is that they had a shockingly well developed sex education when I went. Like, yes, *obviously* they skipped over contraceptives (what a shock) but they went into the nitty-gritty details of everything else. Heck I probably got a better sex education at Catholic School then most kids get today. Which is all types of sad.

Still. The happiest day of my life was the day my mother took me to Friendly's to sit me down and break the news that I couldn't go to St. Rose anymore. I was so happy I almost cried. Then I went home and beat Final Fantasy 6 all by myself. Oh, what a wonderful day that was.

[avantguardisme]

in spain!!! some updates:

i am living in a residencia run by nuns

im not kidding

this is very strange for me considering i literally don't think ive ever seen a nun irl before (raised vaguely protestant + didnt go to catholic school)

but other than there being a picture of the virgin mary over my bed this has mostly been fine tbh

the only bad thing is that since all of them are a) old and b) wearing the same clothes, my faceblind self is having a difficult time telling who i've already met. ive already forgotten all their names im gonna be real

in other news: basically ate tapas for dinner last night! one was a sandwich with egg and basically potato chips. the other was veggies on some bread. also i got some tinto de verano (i missed it so MUCH)

i really need to remember to buy snacks for myself since they don't serve lunch at my place until 2pm and while i know this is standard spain lunch time my body has Not adjusted yet

spanish snack recommendations are welcome btw

i went on a walk this morning and only got slightly lost! i also saw at least 20 different old men milling around and/or on park benches wearing those newsboy caps that seem to be part of the old man uniform, at which point it hit me that i really am in spain huh

anyway i just ate and now im going to nap. bye

[d-the-designer]

Forgotten Culture: to Greatest and Silent Generation, black was for funerals

...and that MATTERED. If you're Gen X then Silents are the evil generation, not Boomers. This is one of the things that Greatest through Silent Generation policed in public life and part of what my generation had to contend with. Older generations (Greatest and Silent) of some culture spaces of Americans had weird associations around black clothing that are foreign to children of Boomers. It's for femme fatales and women of questionable morals, and Beatniks, and Catholics, and old immigrants, and for Greatest Generation, their mom some time after their dad died. In the mind of these people - if you're a Normal Person, then it's for funerals and funerals only. Also it was for artistes but you have to understand that to these people, artiste was the same thing as Communist. And pretty much everything that was "Communist" to Greatest Gen became "Satanist" to Silents once Silents were in charge of public life. A young girl wearing all black in public - even and especially if it was fancy or businessy - would draw stares. You really don't know how much someone who looked like Wednesday Addams stood out even in *my* childhood let alone my mom's. Wearing all black was something I had to *not do* when I was around friends' parents, and it's something I didn't really have the freedom to do until I was out of high school. Even looking more punk or skater by that time was less edgy than all black. There were very very specific social rules about who was allowed to wear it and up to the 1990s, those people were still very much in control of public life, and we got to start gothing out 24/7 largely because we started having Boomer and Jones authority figures. There really is a degree to which goth culture is in a direct continuity of relaxation of subcultural clothing norms (which all eventually end up in the mall, or Target/Walmart, or popularized by TV) dating all the way back to the Midcentury. Now it's nothing to wear all black, and women's business clothing has become hugely uniform from the variety of colors it used to come in, and the standard suit seems to be all black. That wasn't true when I was younger, a black suit was actually a turnoff and deemed only appropriate to specific professions. Various shades of beige or brown, gray, and navy were more common in the 80s.

[roger-d0dger]

Not hating either but about who is a choir member and who isn’t, I read the book recently and from what I can tell, ROGER isn’t a choir member. When he is introduced in Chapter 1, he’s described as:

“A slight, furtive boy, whom no one knew, who kept to himself with an inner intensity of avoidance and secrecy. He muttered that his name was Roger and was silent again”.

It’s hard to imagine that none of the other characters would know him if he was in the choir, so it’s likely that Roger might have been in their school (it seems that all of them are wearing the same uniform?) but probably kept to himself while there.

It’s interesting how this seems to never be talked about, and instead almost everyone just assumes he’s a choir boy. Personally I prefer the concept of him being one, and your recent designs are amazing, but it’s interesting that this doesn’t seem to actually be backed by the book.

Hi! So this is obviously kind of my area of expertise so I will yap.

So when they say no one knew him, they mean that more as in the personal sense. They did not know anything about him on any level besides that he was in choir with them. He is that kid that sits in the back alone; and no one even knows their last name. From experience, when I was in choir, which was around 15 of us, I never talked to anyone. They didn’t know a thing about me, i could skip weeks and no one would notice. A few years later I even ran into one of them and he didn’t remember me.

In addition, the uniforms that the boys are wearing are specifically choir togs worn by catholic choir boys during the era “…black cloaks which bore a large silver cross on the left breast, and each [of their] necks was finished off with a hambone frill” Merridew also confirms this later when he says “All right choir, take off your togs.”

So to sum up my yap, he is in the choir, he just keeps entirely to himself, and for a group of 12 year olds, that practically means you’re a stranger. They know him, but don’t know know him, iykwim.

No hard feelings! I am always happy to clarify it never feels like hate.

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hi Cas!!! It’s wedding anon. Real quick, CONGRATULATIONS! My partner and I are both young teachers, and I have to say, i’m SO happy for you. My fiancé moved schools after they treated them badly, and didn’t allow her to use Mx. instead of Ms. (which is really important to them). 

Idk if you’re still taking advice, and i’m from England so there’s definitely some differences, but I teach 11-16 yr olds and honestly?

I’ll always say the best thing to do is be on their side. If they get caught in a hallway, oh they’re on their way to me. If they’re uniform is wrong (idk if it’s non uni in the US but like, breaking uniform rules) then I already punished them and they can’t change it (jewellery wont come off/don’t have spare clothes). If they’re eating in classes, yeah i told them, i’ll talk to their teacher. 

Obviously you have to be careful with serious issues but the silly small rules really freak out the youngest years and really piss off the oldest years. As long as you have boundaries to how far you’ll help them, say for example, any kids can always come to my room and chill out- but if they make anyone uncomfortable they are not welcome back. 

Also at my school there’s big queues for lunch, but you can get an early lunch pass to skip it. There’s a kid in my tutor base (idk if you have those) whose friends all have early passes for dinner cause of a club. So I gave her one so she can eat with them and then come to my classroom and do her homework. 

Oh and try to not set group tasks with a fixed number of people. If you’re alright with it, all group activities go better when they’re with friends. Especially at that age. But not if you limit the number. “It’s supposed to be two, but i’ll allow three.” “Groups of four, yeah okay you guys can be a five.” As long as they DO the work, it’s easier for everyone. 

(And when they’re dicks, remember that they’re learning from their parents and the internet. It’s not their fault. I know you know that, but the most important thing at that age is more than one second chance. Cause they’re gonna be teal annoying basically all the time) 

ANYWAY- there’s a new development you WONT believe. 

Also, WOW, your mum tried to wear a wedding dress to YOUR wedding, damn you really get it then 😭

(Oh god I haven’t even begun to worry about what she’ll wear if she comes).

I feel like parents get a free hand at  being a dick more than others, but for good reason. My mum sacrificed so much for me, and grew up in a totally different way than I did. I don’t blame her for her attitude, but I’m getting a little sick of the guilt tripping.

I stopped going to church every weekend during university (once i moved out) about six years ago, and my mum DROVE UP to my dorm and sat me down and gave me a three hour speech about how she CANNOT STAND me not going to church cause then i’ll go to hell and she just wants me not to go to hell and why don’t I just go to church and pray to god so that she can know I won’t go to hell.

And not to get into a thing- but the reason i’m against being a christian is because of christian’s. Like it’s fine if you decide the way you live is what will get you into your heaven, but like- don’t act like everyone else you meet who also isn’t a devote christian is going to go straight to hell. In fact, trying to decide who does and does not go to hell feels incredibly not christian. 

Anyway, as you can see I have a complicated relationship with my mother and with religion. So I sat my mum down yesterday and told her that I want nothing more than her at my wedding, and that i’ll happily take whatever suggestions she has, but that where I get married has to be up to me and partner. I also tried to explain that we literally CANNOT marry in a catholic church due to their rules but she just yelled more about our queer marriage. 

At one point she said “since your wife is only half a women can’t she just become a man for your wedding” and then she had to sit through my own thirty minute speech about how to not devalue my partners identity… but like- can trans people marry in catholic church’s if they’re just a straight couple and the trans person just doesn’t tell anyone???? I feel their system is flawed. ANYWAY. 

She’s not coming. She won’t be at a wedding “facilitating the devil”… WE’RE GAY, by her standards just standing next to my partner is “facilitating the devil”.

I know her tones though, I think she’s gonna change her mind. 

So my dad hasn’t been around much of my life. He’s coming to the wedding only if my mum is. I don’t really care whether he’s there or not. I’ve already told him he’s not walking me down the aisle. He doesn’t give a shit (he never has). He’ll show up if my mum does, or not if she doesn’t. 

(It’s a long story but when I was in second year at university, I lost my campus dorm… and this annoying bartender guy took me in when I almost became homeless and cooked me food and stuff and like- he’s my dad now, i’m a found family girlie). 

ANYWAY. So yeah, but he’s also super catholic. So he, who doesn’t give a shit about ANYTHING, who never supported my mum, who laughed when I told him I was engaged cause he NEVER KNEW i’d been dating my partner… of five years. HE wants to find me a wedding venue. And this isn’t to be nice by the way, it’s to exert his power in any way he still can. 

And naively I had thought maybe he was being nice. BUT THAT PROVED NOT TRUE. Just… let me build up to saying this… 

So my sister has helped me find actual potential churches that would accept our marriage (“only if YOU want, don’t listen to mum”) and my dad has… are you ready… PUNCHED A FUCKING REVEREND. 

Yep you heard that right.

And NOT because he was homophobic. 

No no, they were ALREADY mocking me and partner, saying how funny it was that we were going to hell for BEING US. 

No, he punched our CHILDHOOD churches reverend (not the same person we had back then but still) because he has the audacity to call my dad a BAD father and husband for- everything (apparently my dad got to gossiping with him about cheating on my mum, and that time he hit me, and that time he smashed a beer bottle over my sisters cat).

You forget how psycho your family is when you’re away for so long (I know my sister forgot too) until your back. Around them again. 

But ANYWAY. He’s sort of invited. He’ll either come with my mum if she comes. Or not if she doesn’t. I don’t care if he’s there. Unless he punches someone again, i’ll probably never even notice him. 

The funny thing about all of this is, while yes a venue is one of the most important things, we’re not actually getting married until January 2026, that’s like a year and a half away (my partners always wanted a winter wedding cause they’re fucking adorable). 

Anyway, that’s the update. A year and a half until my wedding and my dads punching reverends and my mums yelling about the devil. 

I shouldn’t have invited them.

Hi hon!

Thank you so much for the advice, I really appreciate it. I'm definitely going to keep all of that in mind.

As far as your update- OH MY GOD

Well, I am SO proud of you for standing up to your mum. That's NOT easy. And your dad sounds...wow. But I'm glad your sister is being so supportive!

But I do want to say- I think you were right to invite them. And the reason is because if you chose not to invite them, you would never know if they would be supportive or not. You would be assuming the worst. But by inviting them, you're giving them the choice to be supportive, and you're assuming the best. Is it going to hurt if they don't show? Absolutely. But now you know that they chose to not be supportive. And that was them. Does that make sense?

But again, I am so proud of you for standing your ground and standing up to your parents. And for defending your partner when needed! You're amazing <3

[livrere-green]

i’m curious—what’s ur specific experience of genderfluidity like?

Oh— There's a lot to say about this, honesty but I'll try to be concise.

I think my first crisis about gender happened when I was around 10/11, but to establish some points:

I came from an old-fashioned family. I was obligated to take etiquette classes when I was a kid (piano, oratory and calligraphy too).

I didn't have a voice over what I could wear in my daily life as a kid. I just had the school uniform. It included an skirt, a cape, a hat and sometimes a coat. And my other clothes that were all curated by my mother

I also had all the toys and things traditionally related to me, as an AFAB person. Dolls, and a room with pink walls.

However, when I was 10, all of it started to finally annoy me. I grew progressively detach from traditional feminine things, and I didn't understand why (honestly I never asked myself that question at that time). I just felt like an outsider, and it was worst at school (it was a catholic school for girls).

It lasted for years, but at least since I turned 13, I had more freedom over my own style and gender expression. As a consequence, I didn't experience those years normally, I didn't learn to do makeup, or to go shopping, I didn't attend normal parties, or felt interest about dating (boys). I didn't feel like a boy either, it just felt safer not to define myself into any of those categories. I was just... some thing.

I stayed in that lane for a long time. My gender expression was pretty much androgynous, I cut my hair short constantly (since I was 16) and I started telling everyone that fabric is fabric while buying clothes or opted to go shopping with my father because he gave zero fucks about the section I was picking clothes from.

I wasn't aware that there was a name for feeling more like one thing one day, and more like the other after some time. That changed during the pandemic, and in 2021 I was back in a more feminine vibe, and it hit me hard because I felt lost, I mean, I wanted some things as skirts and make up, and— You know, I just never learned those things, and it was incredibly confusing, but I managed to catch up (it was weird af at first).

From that moment to now, a lot of things had change. I mean, I started to understand myself a bit more, to create my own style, to experiment with gender expression a lot, and there's so many silly things I discover that just make my brain go "is this gender?"

It has been a long long journey and still, I know it's going to keep begin like that for me, constantly changing, oscillating even.

Fun facts:

It doesn't matter if I'm going with a more masculine/feminine/androgynous vibe, I always walk like they taught me when I was seven, and it never goes away, i hate it a bit now.

The first time I feel like my gender was truly gendering was when I tied my uniform tie by myself (younger girls had ties with elastic, only the older ones were allowed to have real ties), and that day I was wearing the cape and a pair of patent leather shoes. It just felt okay.

Sometimes I have huge crises about what to do with my hair, it was short for a lot of time and just last year I let it grow... It's still complicated (before I also used wigs when I felt like my hair was too short for the way I was feeling).

I guess that's all I can say for now, I know is messy, but that's exactly how confusing it is sometimes.

Thank you for the ask 💚

[yeyinde]

I feel you'd have the best catholic!Jason todd ideas.

I do have a lot of thoughts about this! (and immediately my mind went to hot priest!Jason Todd so I guess it's time to re-read the priest comic...). I like the idea of Jason having an empty relationship with Catholicism the most, so I went with this one.

Maybe he was "raised" Catholic, but it was performative. It wasn't the, "we're a perfect example of what a Catholic family should be" pantomime, but a parasitic one. Exploitative. Meaningless and hollow except for what it could do for them. And maybe it looks good on paper for Child Protective Services.

Maybe there's a cross on the wall but was picked up at a yard sale, and is covered in dust. A ratty bible is on the table, but when you look closer, you realise it's missing pages and scribbled in. Circular holes are burned into the cover (the same ones found all along the old couch, in blankets. Mattresses). They don't pray, but they go to church when they serve food. Saves money on groceries, doesn't it? So, why not. Jason sat at the back (and maybe he tried to listen, to pay attention) while his mum nodded off in the pew, and made fun of the whole thing, at all the rich people in their Sunday Best, only to smile at the priest when he came to greet them.

Some Catholic schools serve their students lunch and snacks, and all you have to do to be admitted it is get baptised. His mum might have dragged him to the church to do so because it meant she didn't have to spend money on feeding him lunch every day. Maybe the only time he ever really ate a whole meal was during school. It cuts the cost of clothes, too, since most Catholic schools require a uniform.

I like the idea of Jason trying to be religious. Maybe he prays during dinner one night but his dad mocks him for it. He never does it in front of them again.

Jason grows up in this limbo where his parents exploit it for their own gain, but he wants to believe. And maybe he does. But it doesn't last long. Not when at school they teach him about gods infinite mercy. How he knows all. But if that's true, how come he never answers Jason's prayers late at night with his pillow muffling his cries? How come he's ignored? I like the idea of a crisis of faith because it can be absolutely devastating even when you don't really believe in all the nonsense.

His parents use it against him. Why would god leave me with a ungrateful kid like you? His mum throws the cross at him and he watches it shatter on the floor. Nothing happens. He wonders if that means something.

And then he sees the divide. There's a difference between being a poor Catholic and a rich one. Maybe it infuriates him, drives him away from it.

He stops being religious as he grows up. Beings to resent it. Maybe he still wears a cross around his neck, a small gold chain bought at a pawn shop for $5 because it's a habit. Sometimes religion can be an addiction, too.

It never really comes up. It was an aspect of his upbringing the same way finding his mum slouched over on the couch was. Just there. Habitual, almost.

And then he dies.

And then he comes back.

Another crisis of faith that doesn't really go anywhere. Maybe he's too jaded to the idea of a higher power, or maybe he's scared. Terrified. I'd like for him to adopt the same parasitic relationship with Catholicism as his parents did. He goes to church because he thinks he should feel bad about what he does. He sits in the last pew at the back, bows his head. And nothing. Nothing. He just thinks about all the times he wept at night until he couldn't cry anymore. All the desperate prayers that went unanswered.

Maybe it wasn't god who brought him back, after all; but you can't have one without the other. And maybe a part of him is beginning to wonder if there's even a difference between the two.

I like the idea of him struggling with guilt over his deeds as the Red Hood but I don't think he really feels it, and I think that hurts him more than anything. There is an absence of guilt and maybe some trickle-down toxicity. maybe he goes to church because he thinks he should not because he wants to but he sits in the pew and he doesn't pray and he definitely doesn't ask for forgiveness because there's nothing to forgive. But in some twisted way, it makes him feel better for not feeling guilty and so. He goes.

Questioning his faith that might not have ever really been there is something I really like talking about. I think there's more to it than just Catholic guilt.

[poetzproblem]

Poetz, I'm going to adjust your game a bit that'll probably make you embarrassed and uncomfortable. I'm doing most memorable sex scene. And you have many great ones to choose from but I'm going with 'I Can Put on a Show'. You have the high school animosity paired with the maturity for them to act on it. Even though you do it from Quinn's POV, I've always imagined all the emotions Rachel is processing. Love the idea of her getting the epiphany, "Damn, she was so hot in that uniform."

It only makes me a little embarrassed since I never think my sex scenes are all that good. But that one was definitely fun to explore exactly because I got to revisit some of their high school dynamics in a happier, safer environment for them. I think it was probably very cathartic for both of them to let that play out the way they did.

And yeah, Rachel definitely had that epiphany.

Also, just for you, have a moment from Rachel's pov:

--

The moment Quinn disappears into the Berry’s spare room, Rachel rushes into her own bedroom, anticipation bubbling low in her belly as she throws open the door to her closet and hastily shuffles through the perfectly preserved remnants of her questionable teenage fashion choices. She’d seen the way her girlfriend’s eyes had glazed over when she’d spotted Rachel’s old skirts yesterday. That along with the knowledge that Quinn had been secretly fighting an attraction to her back then had inspired so many possibilities on ways to revisit those memories in healthier ways. 

There’s no question in Rachel’s mind of which skirt she intends to don for this little activity of theirs. She quickly grabs the yellow and black plaid that had been one of her favorites back in freshman year—the same one Quinn’s attention had lingered on yesterday—and a matching soft yellow sweater that thankfully hadn’t been thrown out. There’s a brief moment of regret that it doesn’t have a bumblebee sewn into the front, just to give Quinn the full Rachel Berry Experience, but this will just have to suffice. 

Tossing the clothes onto her bed, she rummages through her dresser drawers in search of any appropriate accessories to the ensemble. She squeals in triumph when she not only finds a yellow headband but a pair of yellow and black argyle socks.  “Perfect,” she mutters to herself, throwing them onto her mattress next to her outfit before eagerly stripping out of her current clothes. She pauses for a moment at her underwear, considering, before she decides to strip them off as well. She has a feeling Quinn will appreciate the easy access and she knows she certainly will. A heavy spike of arousal zings through her, and that’s without even thinking of Quinn in her uniform. 

She’s not completely disconnected from the less fond memories of that uniform. She has a complicated relationship with the red, white and black of their alma mater for numerous reasons, not all of them related specifically to Quinn. But when Quinn had mentioned that her mother still had her old uniform—well, the rush of heat that had overtaken her at the image of Quinn in that skirt had not been the least bit unpleasant. 

Rachel tosses her discarded clothes onto the closet floor, unconcerned with neatness for the moment, and grabs a pair of Mary Janes before she closes the door again. She reaches for her skirt first, tugging it up over her hips, relieved when the zipper closes without incident. (Her workout regime really has paid off in the best of ways.) She pulls the sweater over her head, and although it seems a little more snug around her breasts than she recalls, it still fits comfortably enough. The socks and shoes come next, and after quickly brushing her hair, she slips the headband into place, eyeing her reflection in the full length mirror. 

Okay, the Catholic school girl thing that Santana occasionally teases her about is not entirely undeserved. “Were these skirts always this short?” she wonders out loud, unsuccessfully attempting to tug the material down another inch. While she suspects her breasts have actually gotten fuller since she was fifteen, she knows she hasn’t gotten any taller. Laughing, Rachel shakes her head. “No wonder Quinn was so enamored with this look.” It makes her legs and ass look fantastic. All in all, Rachel is very pleased with the effect.  

The sharp knock at her door tells Rachel that the object of her musings has arrived, and her heart begins to race with excitement. She can’t wait for Quinn to see her. She can’t wait to see Quinn.  A second impatient knock sounds at the door. 

"Open up, Berry. What did I say about keeping me waiting?"

Rachel rolls her eyes at her girlfriend’s impatience, but she can’t deny that the commanding note in her voice is doing things for her. Just the thought of Quinn barking out orders in that uniform—

She shivers visibly before she draws in a calming breath and wills herself to get into character. Setting her face into a serious expression, she opens the door. "Really, Quinn? It would behoove you to practice your patience as well as your scales."

The words are out before Rachel has a chance to fully take in the vision before her, but when she does, her mouth goes instantly dry while parts further south do the exact opposite. She’d somehow forgotten just how that uniform had looked on Quinn up close and in person. The sleeveless top shows off her wide shoulders and strong arms. One hand is propped on her hip in a familiar pose, and the position stretches the fabric tight across her breasts. Was the top always that tight? Quinn’s enticing curves are obvious even under the WHMS insignia, and Rachel can immediately tell that her girlfriend isn’t wearing a bra. Her fingers itch to go exploring despite the rough polyester fabric. Her gaze dips even lower to the short red skirt that clings to Quinn’s hips. The pleats do almost nothing to hide the entire length of Quinn’s smooth, muscled legs from her view.  

Rachel’s fingers tighten around the doorknob as she struggles not to simply throw herself at Quinn and kiss her breathless. There’d been a small worry niggling at the back of her mind that the vision of Quinn in this uniform would bring back enough bad memories to dull the attraction she feels, but apparently that’s not an issue at all. (In fact, she’s suddenly worryingly aware that the remembered meanness might actually add to the overall appeal of the fantasy, but she’s not willing to unpack any of the potential psychological implications of that at the moment.)   

"I…I like your sweater," Quinn stutters out, endearingly awkward for just a moment—enough to remind Rachel that this isn’t the same scared, defensive girl who’d worn this uniform in high school. 

The words are achingly familiar, and Rachel’s heart takes flight at the memory of their very first meeting.  She smiles when she realizes that Quinn is clearly appreciating everything she’s seeing as much as Rachel is. Oh, this is going to be so much fun. 

Lifting a hand to her chest, she slowly drags it down over her breasts and watches hazel eyes follow the motion with delight. "Why, thank you, Quinn. And may I say, you look very,” her hungry gaze drags over her girlfriend again, a dozen adjectives jumping forward in her mind: gorgeous, powerful, sexy, ridiculously hot, but she settles for, “spirited in your uniform." She somehow manages to keep a friendly smile on her face when all she really wants to do is drop down to her knees and find out exactly what’s under those pleats. "Do come in," she invites, opening the door wider and gesturing for Quinn to come inside. 

Her eyes fall helplessly to the enticing sway of Quinn’s hips as she saunters into the room, and her entire body ignites with arousal. Cheerio Quinn Fabray is in her bedroom, and Rachel Berry fully intends to fulfill every single one of her teenage fantasies.

[drzigs]

The war on children

When I was a child I was obsessed with ‘the’ war.  The war to end all wars.

My father was Polish.  In the war he had lost everything.  He was 17 when it all started. By the end, 5 long years later, he had been interned and escaped from a camp, he had family sent to the gulag, he had joined the army in exile.  He had seen more horror, experienced more fear, and lost so very very much. His father, his brother, cousins, his friends, his family home, his country, his youth, all gone.  What he had gained was a new fierce, fundamental understanding for peace.  

My dad spoke 8 languages fluently.  Fluently to the point where people thought him a native wherever he went.  He was native Frency, native Italian, native Spanish, native Czech, even like a native Russian, even like a native German. I think this gave him the greatest gift of empathy.  Of wanting good, and teaching me tolerance, forgiveness. During the war he became a special agent, a SOE operative. He was involved in the Polish Resistance, in broadcasting on the BBC World Service, and eventually in liberating some of the concentration camps.  The man I knew spoke little, if ever, about the war.  Yet the war was part of who I was.  The war and the homeland lost, as if inherited trauma, displacement itself my heritage.  

My father was brought up Catholic.  My uncle, a university friend of Pope John Paul II, sat on the Papal Council. Much of my childhood was spent growing up in the church.  A community, a way of life. Growing up around him, I found that my father however had two ‘faiths’, one the church, a professed ‘goodness’, and the other was his firm belief in Europe, an institution, a ‘belonging’ that brought with it peace and collaboration, the antithesis to nationalism and therefore, war.  He believed in peace like a religion. 

As an adult I now question my obsession with the war.  ‘THE’ war, as we called it.  As if there were no other.  However then, as an 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 year old I returned to this again and again.  I became an expert in the field. I read everything I could find.  Stories, novels in particular, the human descriptive of horror and survival.  The horrors of the holocaust.  The Warsaw Ghetto, the uprising, the brave, resourceful, inspiring characters of legend. The mechanics of a machine of evil, of murder.  I was a child.  In some senses this was simple good versus bad.  Yet, I wanted to understand more ; where could this horror come from, what was society's role in this, my fathers role, my uncle's role, the war office, the governments in exile. I asked relentlessly,  how?  How could these events happen. 

How could the world watch as millions were murdered. How?  How was it allowed? How did the ‘grown-ups’ not stop this?  How, when this happened in neighbourhoods, in communities. There were clerics, there were school teachers, there were toy makers.  A ghetto in the middle of a busy city.  How? 

My father would not talk about the war, so I would wait.  Late nights, when, after a few glasses of wine, he would sometimes, rarely, finally talk to me.  And I fed on these tidbits of information.  

And every time I would return to the same question.  How? How could people allow this to happen.  How could such evil exist in the world?  And he would tell me that it was because at the time people didn't really know, that they didn't know the full extent, at the time they didn’t have the news like we did, they didn’t have TV’s, they didn’t see the camps, the ovens.  And I partly believed him.  

The alternative truth, the reality I guess, is what we are living today, is what I have discovered as an adult.   

Then, as now, walls around enclaves, around ghettos, are built by people. Paperwork is signed by people. Ammunition is manufactured by people.  Uniforms are sewn by people. Planes are flown by people.  Armies are fed by people.  The software that guides the missiles that strike the hospital, the school, the refugee camp is made by people.  Bombs are dropped by people. People, the fabric of our communities. People like you and me.  It is us that is doing the killing.

This morning I watch @Wizardbisan, one of the many young journalists in Gaza, who has taken to her phone, and in her candid honesty, her dignity, her fear, her exhaustion as she bears witness yet again to the horrors beyond horrors happening now, this minute in Gaza.  This is not a book, a film.  This is not history.  This is NOW. This moment, as I type. And I feel her fear, her exhaustion.  I watch a video of a child crying, describing how the Israeli army pulled her grandad, her uncle and then her father out of a line as they crossed a checkpoint.  They took her clothes, her food, her support.  Her dad.  I watch a mother cradling her dead baby, limp, lifeless.  I see children, alone, covered in dust and blood and shaking in fear. The last doctor, alone in Al Shifa hospital begging for help as patients die around him. And more. And more.  Horrors upon horrors that defy understanding.  I will fall asleep thinking of these people.  I will wake up wondering if they survived the night. 

There is no saying that we ‘didn’t know’. 

I see that so many of my friends, my ‘internet contacts’ have liked Bisan’s post.  Business colleagues.  Yet - there is silence.  I also follow their feeds.  We are celebrating Christmas, sharing a joke.  And I wonder, are we not seeing this? This horror?  Is it like clickbait? Are we immune? Why, why are we so afraid to speak out?  And whilst we click ‘like’ on the mundane, the banal, children are being massacred.  Now genocide been televised.  It is in our phones.  It is happening in our very hands. 

Today I work in the Toy Industry.  And my professional life, like that of this industry, is built on the smiles, happiness, laughter and education of children.  Each and everyone of us in this industry has crafted a life around these little people, our future.  We educate, we entertain.  We create story lines and fantasies, teddy bears and Barbies, Lego construction sets and super hero action movies.  For children, all children, the world over.  Children of all languages and creeds, this is what we do it for.  Or is it?

If you watch these children of Gaza, the ones that are still alive, you will see that they no longer have their toys, any toys.  Not one child is holding a toy.  Occasional images will show toys crooked, covered in dust, half hidden amongst the rubble, the flashes of brightly coloured remnants of the Disney princess, the Spiderman blanket, the Ty bear, the toy pushchair.  Survival and fear is what the children hold now. 

As the United Nations have said - this war, this horrific, violent, despicable, carpet bombing destruction of Gaza is a war against children. 

So far 7000 children have been killed.  10s of thousands have life-changing injuries.  Hundreds have been operated without anaesthesia. Hundreds are orphans.  More than half a million are homeless. All are traumatised.  The greatest proportion of victims are under the age of 14.   

We cannot, we must not be silent.  

As an industry that champions children we have to stand up and be counted.  We need to call for a permanent ceasefire.  We need to find our voice.  Lest when our children ask us, ‘how could it happen?’ how?, we have to shrug - because we can no longer say that we didn’t know.   So we will have to say we didn’t care.  Or that it was too difficult.  Or, do we say, that we had to kill these children, these babies, you see they were hiding terrorists.  Or maybe we will say that they didn’t matter, they had the wrong colour skin, or worshipped the wrong god.  Is that what you will say?

Today I am my father’s age.  And my child asks me why? How?  How could it be happening?  And I, like my father, do not know what to say.  But I urge him to have a voice.  I want to protect him from the horrors, but I need him, fiercely, to learn to speak up, to speak out.  To believe in peace like it is the new religion.  For it is only by doing this that we can find our humanity.

I would urge you all to read the open letters from Medicins Sans Frontieres: https://www.msf.org/letter-gaza-un-security-council

And if you would be willing, to sign the open letter below: