#i know it's used in an academic context but for me it always feels like a slur.

[soaked-ghost]

You know, something that hits very very close to home about Ink's canon character is how much he seems to struggle with social understanding.

People often say that Ink canonically*just* has a hard time understanding social interaction but while that's true, it kindaaaa misses the entire spectrum of problems. It's said in the F.A.Q 'With him hardly having a proper social understanding,. As a Psychology student, the use of this particular word caught my attention a little tbh. Since it's widely used in academic contexts and studies conducted in relation to social competences and not very much used in more informal/non-academic contexts, where 'social skills' is more used for example.

According to academic sources, most can agree upon the fact that social understanding stands for 'our understanding of social features of the world, as people with beliefs, intentions, wishes, emotions, and desires. Think of social understanding as ''big-picture' thinking, It envoles observing and processing the larger social environment.

(In those academic paper that i have said, 'social understanding' is used to mean 'Theory of mind', since they're the same defenition but with different words. Comyet sayin' that Ink has a hard proper social understanding is the same thing as saying that he doesn't have a proper theory of mind, which, again, proves that those social issues run much deeper than 'hes blunt sometimes'

Not only that, but he has a problem with understanding people's underlying messages and emotions, mainly with people arr bit being obvious about it. His social issues affect the way he communicates with people too! (He's stand as 'blint' as a result, which is a way of communication). Adding ti, but he seems to have problems with back and forth styles of conversation too.

As an autistic person, i just relate A LOT to Ink. I really wished people portaryed his social problems tbh.. people often erase it, infantilizes it or dmeonizes it... It sucks.

i keep getting asks like these from people way smarter than me and all I can respond back with is something stupid like 'haha isn't it funny that ink is a painter and can't get the bigger picture lol'

but seriously, it's sad that people only look at the surface level things when it comes not only to ink, but also pretty much every other autistic/autistic coded character

because to them, autism is just stimming and special interests, just the disorder that makes u 'silly' but never the disorder that affects every part of my life, and often times if affects my life badly

It just makes other autistic people uncomfortable that sometimes, autism fucking sucks, so they choose to ignore the 'unsavory' parts of autism in favor for something digestible, free of discomfort and mainstream

(god forbid autistic characters act violently or latch out and GOD FORBID they ever have a meltdown)

we never see ink's side of how he is really affected by his autism, he's always either 'silly', or bothering other people. we only see how the people around ink react to his autism, and it's always with annoyance

Ink didn't choose to not understand people and be alienated from them and feel alone and disconnected from everyone

u can tell me as many time as u like that he has no empathy and doesn't care about people and is inconsiderate, which all are autism behaviors that are demonized to a hellish degree

but guess what, the only one that will always be affected by his own carelessness (and his own autism) is ink, because he's the one that always ends up alone in the end

repeat after me kids: the only one affected badly by ink is ink

[sciderman]

I've always headcannoned wade as genderqueer! :3 Big wide umbrella term! Something that can't be pinpointed. Un-describable to the outside world but makes sense to him and only him. Tho maybe I'm js projecting😭 I think it fits her pretty well! And I always eat up any genderqueer rep!!!

that's cool and allowed! i mean, i use nonbinary as the umbrella term because the literal meaning is "outside the binary" so it kind of encompasses everything. but it's also because i've kind of never sat comfortably under the q-word. i sooner use "gay" as an umbrella term than the q-word. but that's personal. different strokes.

[nohoperadio]

That cool bee book I was talking about a while ago mostly refrains from philosophical digressions (which I think is a strength, I appreciated how the author had total confidence that just clearly presenting the facts about his subject would be enough to make a fascinating book without the need for any "...and here's why that should blow your mind" editorializing, and he's totally right), but there was one towards the end I've found myself thinking about a lot, which is: he wants people to stop using "self-consciousness" (i.e. the concept exemplified by the mirror test but used implicitly or explicitly in tons of other contexts) as a criterion for which animals can be considered sentient/morally relevant/having significant inner lives/however you want to describe it. Not, as you might expect, because he thinks it's an unreasonably high bar to meet, but because it's such a low bar that it produces no distinctions: he argues that basically any animal with any kind of developed central nervous system has to have some kind of self-consciousness almost by definition.

The example I remember best is: imagine you can see an object in your visual field getting closer to you. No matter the specifics, it's obviously always going to make a huge difference to how you evaluate this situation whether the cause of the object getting closer is a] the object is moving towards you, or b] you are moving towards the object. If a, then something might be pursuing you or falling on you or a thousand other things that are just not even worth considering in the case of b. But visually the two cases are indistinguishable; if you're going to be able to track the difference, your brain has to be putting at least some work into keeping tabs on what your own intentions are and what choices you're making as you move through the world, predicting the expected consequences of those choices, and maintaining a fairly tidy mental separation between stuff in the world that you're making happen and stuff in the world that's just happening of its own volition. Otherwise, every time you walk towards a rock you'll freak out and think the rock is rolling into you, or vice versa.

And it's not hard to see how this applies to your entire sensory world right, it applies to sounds and tactile sensations and even feelings internal to your body to some extent, if you're going to both perceive the world and take actions in the world then it's mandatory to mentally separate yourself and the world before that's going to yield even an ounce of helpful information, you just can't function successfully on the most basic level if you're processing stuff that you're doing on the same level as stuff that's happening, if you're in that state then you simply don't have a usable model of the world at all, you just have chaos.

So you can very easily eliminate a certain seductive narrative about the evolution of consciousness, which starts with very primitive animals who are mentally processing nothing but basic sensory inputs, then as you rise up the chain more complex animals are forming concepts of objects and building up a more nuanced understanding of the world, until finally you approach humans and the mind becomes so subtle and sophisticated that it gains access to this special advanced meta-level of thought where it can even understand itself! No, the self is precisely the one idea that has to be in place from the very beginning, before any of it has even the most rudimentary practical value. Self-consciousness isn't the pinnacle of the mind's evolution, it's one of the lowest, most basic foundations that everything else builds off of.

I think this is really cool stuff! I don't know enough about the relevant academic philosophy of mind debates to say how far all this does or doesn't speak to that, maybe someone will tell me the "self-consciousness" concept being attacked here is a strawman somehow, I don't know. But it's definitely impacted the way I (just a dumb guy who likes creatures) think about our small small cousins and what their lives might be like and I think it's super interesting. If you think it's interesting too then maybe you wanna buy The Mind of a Bee by Lars Chittka and read it. It's mostly not about this stuff, as I say it's light on philosophy and heavy on bee-life immersion, but if you actually read this whole post then you're probably in the market for that I feel like.

[asvterias]

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟣: 𝖦𝗈𝗈𝖽𝖻𝗒𝖾, 𝖸𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝖠𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗒

the cast // series masterlist

chap. 1 || chap. 2 || chap. 3 || chap. 4 || chap. 5

word count: 4.5k+

tag list: @starvviss @lov3rgirllll @starless-nightz @random-girls-loves

author’s note: so...first chapter, how are we looking?? 👀 Also, there’s no way for me to be this consistent with my book 😮, let’s hope i can keep this up!

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ  ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

‼️  DISCLAIMER FOR THIS CHAPTER  ‼️ 

Just Some Cursing

Bold Italics are the Flashbacks

Bold Italics with the ‘Single Quotation Marks’ are spoken in 1st POV.

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ  ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

Born from the same father but different mothers, your sibling bond with Percy was unbreakable, certainly unconditional. Your mothers were very close, growing up as best friends from when they were teenagers, accomplishing every achievement together for the sake of you and Percy’s life.

Of course, your moms fell in love, hosting a small spring wedding when you were 10 and Percy was 6 years old.

‘Look…. I didn’t want to be a half-blood. Being a half-blood is dangerous, it’s scary. Most of the time it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways. If you think you might be one of us, my advice is to turn away while you still can because once they know who you are, they’ll sense it too and they’ll come for you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

‘My name is Y/N Jackson-Matthews, I’m sixteen years old. Am I a troubled kid? Depends on which context you put this in.’

‘To my parents, I’m the easy and less rebellious child, never causing fights unless provoked, maintaining good school grades, and protecting my brother from trouble. I didn’t mind any of it, rather enjoying being the protector of the family. It makes me visible and seen as an equal to my other family members. Don’t get my parents wrong, they love and care for me very much, but I always felt invisible, blending into the sidelines, due to my shy nature. Luckily, I’m still growing out of that mindset and managing to be an outspoken girl and not a pushover.’

‘So what happens when the protector is unable to protect? Do they give up instant hope and cower in shame? Or do they fight back, willingly seeking a second chance to redeem themselves? The answer to this question is unclear. Whether you make a change or just bystand like others?

With everything going on, from the upbringing of your heritage, both of your mothers went through thick and thin. Developing from friends into lovers hardly changed anything, presumably their love maintained massively for themselves and shared children. A loving family of four was maintained by dark secrets that cost lives.

After many years of moving from states because of unexplainable sightings you and Percy witnessed in confusion and never properly settling down in schools, Yancy Academy was persistent. You and Percy managed a full school semester at Yancy, and your parents were proud of it.

Everything was going well, Percy finally found a friend, Grover Underwood, the boy was a little peculiar but his personality was a sweet innocent one. Yes, you didn’t have any friends but you were fine with it, half of your schoolmates weren’t even worth the time. So, you just hung out with Grover and Percy, defending them against bullies, particularly a redhead named Nancy Bobofit, who was your classmate.

Despite the girl bullying your younger brothers, she never bothered you to the extent she did with others. You shared most of your classes with her, due to being assigned to AP Classes because of your academic gift. Perhaps, maybe she’s always flustered by your mere presence, her rosy cheeks, giving her true feelings away. Even when it’s with a single glance from you, the redhead girl would duck her head and turn the small smile she had on, plastering it with a hardened frown.

‘Until the day that changed, too…until the day one of them decided to come for me and my brother too. My family’s fate will all be in my hands. And maybe I wasn’t prepared for it, nobody was prepared for it. I’m a protector and nothing we hate worse is an unprepared attack.

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ  ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

Yancy Academy hosted a field trip to the Met Museum about Greek Gods for History Week. Standing beside your younger brothers, Grover and Percy, observing about the many Greek God statues on display while Mr. Brunner briefly discussed Greek History.

Keeping a clipboard in your hand with a worksheet attached to it and you fidgeted with the pen in your other hand. You couldn’t concentrate on anything.

“What you see here, they are not fictions. They are not fantasies. What you see here are the truest and deepest parts of yourselves. Friends…the gods, the monsters, the heroes, you see here in this room are reminders of what we are capable of.” Mr. Brunner explained to the students.

You released a tired sigh, throwing your head slightly back as you resisted the urge to roll your eyes and leave to buy snacks.

Greek Mythology wasn’t your favorite thing to learn about but surprisingly your brother, it’s the only subject he wholeheartedly admires.

“Now, on your worksheets, I want you to choose one of the subjects you see here and describe it. Not just how it looks but how it makes you feel. Hmm…okay, c’mon.” Your History teacher claps twice, urging everyone to disperse and start the assignment.

You blinked down at the clipboard holding your assignment, trying to read the instructions. Your vision goes blurry as you squint your eyes, not believing the sight. Were you seeing things now? Since when do words start to rearrange themselves on paper? That whole ordeal caused even more confusion and an even further increasing headache.

Suddenly, you feel a tap on your shoulder which brings you back to reality as you turn around to face the person. You shake your head, realizing you are in a public place and daydreaming again.

“Hey, Matthews,” Nancy smirks.

“Hey, Bobofit.” Your eyes slanted at the girl’s presence, wondering why the sudden intrusion.

“I was wondering if you had another pen that I could borrow. I seem to have lost mine,”

You nodded with a small smile, about to grab the extra pen from your sweater pocket before your brother joined in the conversation.

“Isn’t that the pen behind your ear?” Percy points out.

You raised your head and scanned the girl’s face as her red hair made it harder to decipher the pen. Nancy’s face flushed in embarrassment as her eyes widened at the blonde’s attempt at humiliation. The redhead absolutely hated that he succeeded in embarrassing her, and in front of you, too. Finally, you spotted the well-hidden pen, observing the writing utensil, safely tucked behind the bridge of her ear.

“Oh yeah, you do have a pen. You don’t need mine.”

Your brother smiles in satisfaction at Nancy’s embarrassment and your cluelessness in the entire situation.

“Yeah, so can you get lost now?” Percy says with a disdained face.

Nancy glares and scoffs at your blonde brother before turning her attention back to you with a half smile. “See you later, Y/N,” she waved with a flirty tone.

You nodded, watching the redhead saunter off to her friend group once again.

“I still don’t get why you even interact with her,” Percy exhales.

“Trust me, I don’t know myself.” You answer him, “Maybe, I want to kill her with kindness,” You joked with a dry tone.

“My sister is always the jester,” Percy rolls his eyes.

“Shut up, doofus,” You shove him. “Let’s hurry up and finish this worksheet so we can buy snacks, I’m starving.”

“I swear you think through your stomach,”

“Whatever, Perseus.”

You two chuckle to yourselves as you both look up at the statue in front of you. It was Perseus, standing victoriously while holding the decapitated head of Medusa.

“What do you see?”

The whole scenery changed, and instead of the museum being crowded it was empty, just the family of four. You, Percy, your mom, Jessica, and your mother, Sally. However, your ages also regressed there too, you were 10 and Percy was 6 as you all stood before the statue. It was a past memory.

“Perseus…that’s me.” A six-year-old Percy answered his mom.

“Mm-hmm, that’s who you’re named after.”

“Is that why you named me after him? Because he was a hero?”

“What makes you think he was a hero?”

“Because he kills monsters.”

“And what makes you think that she was a monster?”

“Mom…”

“Not everyone who looks like a hero is a hero, and not everyone who looks like a monster is a monster.” Your mom, Jessica continues with the conversation.

“This Greek talk is sooo boring,” You mumbled to yourself.

“I named you after him because when he was a very little boy he and his mother were placed in a wooden chest and cast out into the sea by a very angry king.”

Your mom looked at her two children as she spoke, “All alone, afraid, and at night, his mother would whisper in his ear; “Hold fast Perseus. Brave the storm that was made to break us for we are unbreakable as long as we have each other.”

“And against all odds, he managed his way to find a happy ending,” Sally concludes.

You and your mom shared a glance of boredom as she grabbed your hand, sneakily walking away from your brother and mother. You two left the museum and headed towards the food stand outside, ordering two medium-sized pretzels.

“We got pretzels,” You cheered, chewing on the pretzel in your hand as you skipped back inside the museum with your mom.

“And you didn’t bring me any!” Percy yelled in astonishment.

“Why yes, of course, because you and mother were boring me and mom about all this Greek mythology.”

“It’s not my fault your attention span is so short!”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk, Perseus!”

“Just shut up, Y/N/N.”

Before you two could argue again, your mom hit your arm, silencing any of your upcoming words, and replacing it with a hurried yell. Soothing your arm in pain as the impact still subsided, and you pouted at your mom.

“In public places, we use our inside voices, remember.” Sally gently reprimands her two children.

“But—“

Her warning tone was to be carefully treaded with. “Y/N…”

“Why didn’t Percy get hit too?”

“Don’t take that tone with your mother, missy,” Your mom lectures you with a firm stare. “Don’t make me get the belt.”

Neither of your parents were wearing belts and you wondered where she was gonna find one. For once, you decided to keep your smart mouth shut and avoid the consequences this time.

“Fine, we’ll be even.” Sally sighs, briefly hitting Percy’s arm harshly, wincing when his eyes start to water.

“Sorry, mom.” You held your head down in shame and bashfully took another bite of your pretzel.

He cries and you walk over to him, rubbing his back with your free hand, attempting to comfort him. Soon enough, you soothed and wiped his tears away and gave him a huge bear hug.

“Don’t cry, brother. I’ll keep you safe from our mothers.”

He sniffles at you, still staying silent, reciprocating the hug back and not budging.

Pulling away from the bear hug, you grinned softly at the young blonde. “We’ll share my pretzel if you like.” You shoved the half-eaten pretzel into your brother’s face.

Percy wipes his remaining tears away, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he reaches for the desert.

You smiled at your generosity and so did your parents at your kindness shown towards your younger brother. They loved seeing you two get along, too bad that wholesome moment quickly diminished as you began to shout again.

“Not a big piece, you hoarder!”

“How about we get you two separate pretzels?” Sally bargained with an unsure shrug and her wife, Jessica stared at her in disbelief.

“We’re not getting them separate pretzels.” Your mom, Jessica, shakes her head.

“Why not?”

“Can’t you tell, Percy, we’re broke?”

“How broke are we?”

“We’re not broke.”

The family of four started to leave the museum as you walked hand in hand with Percy as he munched on the remainder of your pretzel. You weren’t going to fight him about it because you were getting another one.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, sweetie, I’m sure.”

“You’re not very convincing, mom.” You skipped to the pretzel stand with Percy by your side.

Sally smiles down at you. “Y/N takes after you,”

“Oh, please, no she does not.” Your mom scoffs in disagreement.

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ  ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴  ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

“Mom!” Percy yells out and he breaks his pencil in the process, startling some nearby students.

You glance at your brother in confusion, seeing he’s finally out of his trance state, returning to the harsh reality.

“I’m right here, sweetie,” Percy searched for the voice and internally shrank upon the actual voice of the person. It was Nancy, who was just publicly humiliating him in front of everybody. “Mommy’s here!” She fakely cooed, drawing out some laughs from her friends and others.

You glared at the redhead, smirking to yourself when she backed down and turned away from you two.

“Just ignore her.”

“Well, it’s getting quite hard not to. She’s like a pest, a human-sized annoying pest that you can’t get rid of.”

“Mr. Jackson and Ms. Matthews, you two will learn to control yourself, do you understand me?” You wince at the sudden harshness of Mrs. Dodds’ tone.

“Us?” Percy asked in shock, pointing to the group of girls, ready to defend himself.

“Listen here, lady, we didn’t do anything wrong—“

Mrs. Dodd sharply cut your statements off. “Do you understand me?”

“He can’t help it, Mrs. Dodds. Percy’s special.” Nancy wanted to be desperately involved. Oh, she’s definitely going to get what’s coming for her.

“I will fight you in front of everyone here and show you who’s really special.” You start to walk closer to the posse of girls but a strict voice halts your actions.

“That’s enough!” Mr. Brunner rolls over on his wheelchair to the two of you, “Pay them no mind. When you’re ready to hear what the gods have in store for you, they’ll tell you. I believe in you, in the both of you.”

“Thanks for the unnecessary inspiration, I guess,” You shrugged.

Mr. Brunner pulls two black pens from his suit, “And I believe you two will be needing this.”

Immediately, Percy accepts the pen from his teacher but you aren’t easily impressed or gullible by a basic pen.

“No, thanks, I already have an extra pen.”

“Take the pen, Ms. Matthews.” His demeanor was serious as you gulped, taking the pen out of his hand.

“It’s a pen, though.” You spoke dumbfounded, looking at the pen skeptically.

“Why, yes, Y/N, it is a pen,” Mr. Brunner nodded in agreement. Was he being sarcastic with you?

“Do you want us to write something with it for you?”

“Hang on to them. ‘Tis a mighty instrument,”

“It’s just a pen.” You argued. “If you’re that lazy to write, that’s not my problem, Mr. B.”

“Good day, Y/N.” He rolled away in his wheelchair. “I never knew a girl could have so many questions for a simple thing.” He murmurs to himself.

“What’s so special about this pen?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, observing the simple black ink pen.

“Just let it go, sis.”

“I’m only doing that because lunch is finally here.” You shoved the pen into your sweater pocket.

“All you’re worried about is food.”

“Of course, what else is there to worry about? Food won’t hurt or pretend to love me, food is life.”

“Why do you always do that?”

“What do I always do?”

“Get real depressing when you’re hungry.”

“It’s either a depressing state or a bitchy state, be grateful.”

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

The trio sits by the huge water fountain and begins to eat their sandwiches while everyone else is talking and standing around with their friends.

“There are all sorts of schools of thought about what drives that kind of bullying. Childhood trauma, a feeling of inadequacy..” Grover lists off.

“Look I get that Nancy has issues, I’m just getting tired of her taking them out on me.” Percy exhales, “I feel like maybe it’s time we do something about it.”

“You could make an appointment with Mr. Kane.” Grover suggests, “He’s really great at talking to—“

“I was thinking more of shoving Nancy into the nearest dumpster,” Percy confesses with an innocent smile.

“Oh…” Grover raises his eyebrows, “That’s not what I really had intended in mind.”

“I like it, let’s do it.”

“No, no, no, Y/N, Percy, have you two learned nothing?”

“Hey, I do learn stuff, I just forget about the consequences…sometimes.”

“If there’s one thing I know about bullies, is that you should never ever stand up to them,” You frowned at that piece of advice.

“That doesn’t sound right.”

“It isn’t right.” You piped up. “That’s a stupidass logic, Grover, you’ll just give them more power than they actually need. The only way to stand up to them is to fight, make them scared of you after you beat their ass.”

“Look…I know this place is hard for people like us but we’re not gonna be here forever. There are better places out there.” Grover reassures his best friend.

A slice of cheese comes hurling your way and it lands on Grover’s face, echoing a smacking sound.

“Oops…” Nancy smirks, balling up the piece of garbage in her hand and walking away.

“Percy….”

You piped up, opening the bag of chips, “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,”

Percy abruptly stands up, frustration consuming his mind, storming over to Nancy and holding his hand out. At first, Nancy stared at him unimpressed with a teasing smile to further anger your brother. Seriously, what was going on with your eyes today?! First, words were disoriented on your paper and now Percy had telekinetically thrown Nancy into the nearby fountain. He did all that within a few feet, possibly two feet away from the redhead girl.

The girl went flying back a few feet in the air, screaming at her sudden height before landing into the fountain. You stare in pure amazement at the sight, laughing slightly at the girl’s hysterics.

How was he able to do that? Did you have that same ability?

“Shit…I would have done the same thing.” You admitted.

“Percy pushed me!” Is the first thing she shouts that causes you to rush over to Percy’s aid.

“What, no I didn’t!” Percy stammers.

There were murmurs and crude looks sent in your brother’s direction but you ignored it.

Judgmental looks were the least of your concerns, moreover, the annoying buzzing sound getting louder. You found the source, furiously shaking in your sweater as you hesitantly pulled the shaking pen out.

“There you are.” A familiar voice rang out, capturing the siblings’ attention. It was Mrs. Dodds’ voice and she was walking menacingly toward you two. The woman still telepathically speaks.

“We’re not fools, Percy Jackson & Y/N Matthews.

“Mrs. Dodds, you okay?”

“It was only a matter of time before we found you two,”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you gripped Percy’s wrist on instinct by your protective nature, pulling him behind you. Both watched as she stalked closer…and it looked like she was transforming into a creature. Slowly but surely, wings started to sprout from her back and her true body revealed itself.

Mrs. Dodds wasn’t even a pretty creature either, yet you only appreciate her color of scales.

“Where is it, half-bloods?” She steps on the stairs of the fountain, “Where is it?” The creature flies above you as the sibling duo stumbles back, fearful of current threats. Too appalled by the sight of everything, Percy held onto your hand tighter as he hid behind you, resting his face in your sweater. As long as he had you by his side, he’d be fine, that’s what his parents said.

‘Protect each other and you’ll be fine. Love and care for each other and you’ll be fine. Don’t ever turn your back on each other, you’re blood siblings and that’s never changing.’

All of a sudden, she plummets down at the two of you with the intent of attacking. Her height is as intimidating as she looks and you internally bite back a gulp. You just hoped she couldn’t smell emotion, and use that to her advantage because your fear was too distinctive right now.

“Hmmm….not you…you can put up a fight,” She glared at you.

Instead of attacking you first, she decided to take Percy, knowing he was too young to understand anything. So she uses her wing to shove you away from your brother, her strength forcing you to separate from the blonde.

“No, Y/N!” Percy yells as you go flying back and crash landing into the hot dog stand truck.

Once you are down, Mrs. Dodds redirects her attention to Percy with a hiss, and the blonde stumbles backward, desperately trying to escape but falls down.

In a second, the monster is on top of him, her clawed fingers briefly skimming over the color of his shirt as she analyzes the terrified boy, “Where is it, half-blood?”

“No,” You whisper, tightening the pen’s grasp, viewing the scared interaction of your brother and that creature.

Hastily getting up from the ground, staring in bewilderment at the transformed gold sword. Huh, guess it was more than an actual pen.

Stabbing the creature in her back, ignoring her first hiss, repeatedly stabbing the monster until it was fully weakened as she eventually began to disintegrate into brown dust.

After the monster dies, you stagger onto the floor, barely sitting down with sense.

“Y/N…” His voice becomes disoriented as your vision changes into a black abyss and everything goes silent.

“Are they dead?” Someone asked.

“Are they okay?”

Managing to open your tired eyes to see a circle around, looking down on you as a groan left your mouth.

“Give them some room, please.”

By the kind demand, some students disappear, mingling back with their friends while Grover stays behind, helping you and Percy off the ground.

“What happened?” Percy breathlessly asked.

You glimpsed over at a drenched Nancy with a towel wrapped around her shoulders, who was glaring daggers at your brother while being comforted by some strange woman.

Turns out, Nancy actually got what she deserved a few minutes later and it was hilarious and shocking at the same time.

“Where’s Mrs. Dodds?”

Percy’s question goes unanswered.

“I didn’t do anything to him.” Nancy exclaims and the woman escorts her away, “He pushed me.”

“Everybody go back to your lunches.” He commands the other students, who still stare and murmur amongst themselves at the sibling duo. “It’s all right Y/N and Percy, just need a moment, that’s all.”

“I didn’t understand, didn’t anyone just see that? Where’s Mrs. Dodds?” You persisted.

At your question, Mr. Brunner and Grover shared a glance.

“Y/N, there’s no one here by that name,”

“Yes, there was. She had white hair in a 1950s hairstyle, wore a trench coat, and totally gave off creeper stalker vibes.

“As I said before, there’s no one here by that name.”

“You sure?” Percy questions.

“I’m quite sure,” Mr. Brunner reaffirms with a tight-lipped smile, “All right, class, let’s move soon. Let’s go, finish your lunches.”

Long story short, all three of you got called into the principal’s office, and heavily questioned because of the earlier incident with Nancy. This talk was definitely not going to be good. By the time you were ready to leave, Grover shocked you with his statement, claiming he saw Percy push Nancy into the fountain.

Observing your brother’s reaction to his best friend’s huge lie, betrayed by the other boy, ultimately thinking he was just like the rest. You gave him a small smile, rubbing his back to reassure him that you were there for him. That’s what you always do, protect and love your younger brother like your life depends on it.

Guess, that’s the end of going to this school, you and Percy are going home! Might as while call your parents and inform them of your early visitation.

Sitting on a bench with your belongings beside you, Percy looks gloomy, probably still portraying Grover’s betrayal in his mind. He seemed to be out of it and you didn’t bother him either. This was his time to reflect on everything that happened so far.

“None of this is easy,” Mr. Brunner strolled in, “Not for you two, not for any of us. I’m very concerned about you two, I saw what happened at the museum.”

“I didn’t touch Nancy.” Percy’s self-reassurance started to sound like a plea. He just wished for Mr. Brunner to believe him, because it seemed like no one was on his side, except for you.

“I know you didn’t. At least, I know you think you didn’t.”

“Listen here, Mr. B, I saw what happened too and my brother’s telling the truth.”

“Do you want to tell me what you think happened? You can tell me. I might just understand.”

“You wanna bet?” Percy tilts his head.

“Percy…Y/N,” He lowly chuckles, “I’ve seen a lot of young people go through this sort of thing in my time, but of all of them, I suspect that…you might have the most difficult journey.”

“Oh, because that puts us at such ease,”

“It was not meant to put you at ease,” Mr. Brunner recorrects you. “I suspect that you two are special. So much more so than you know.”

“Just…stop.” The blonde boy heavily sighs. “Okay, I don’t need any more stories about how special me and my sister don’t realize we are. They aren’t helping in the slightest.”

“And I’m pretty sure I’m dyslexic,” You interrupted. “If that counts as special.”

“Ms. Matthews, you’re special but not in the way you assume.” Mr. Brunner implies.

“How is that relevant?”

“It’s not, I just wanted to feel included.”

“Of course, you do.”

A green, vintage two-seater truck pulls up, signaling your departure for returning home.

“This is our ride, we’re going home.” You spoke to the History teacher, “Get your bags, Percy, let’s go.”

Percy nods at the teacher before retrieving his bags and following into the Yancy Academy truck alongside you. Once you two were settled in the vehicle, the driver revived his engine and pulled out of the driveway.

Goodbye, Yancy Academy, you were decent while it lasted.

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

© asvterias, 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works onto any other platforms without my permission.

[markiv3]

stray kids as romantic tropes

with little to no context

ot8 not proofread guys my bad

bangchan - friends to lovers

like wbk... he's got that friendly aura and i think he'd just befriend you thinking that you were just a pretty person but it turns into something more. he'd be very open about his feelings when he realizes how he feels i think.. and he'd confess with flowers and a nice dinner hoping to charm you but there's no charming needed cause he's just the best guy ever.

minho - college sweethearts

OKAY SO what i think is that it would be a love at first sight oh trust he fell first and harder and like campus would be so fun starting from the day you first saw him until you finally got together like.. he'd be flirty all the time omf like he'd mess with you playfully and hope you would catch the hints. he'd catch himself grinning and smiling after talking to you and all his friends would tease him about you but he wouldn't care cause he is head over heels TRUST!!!

changbin - newly married couple

oomfs i think he'd be the perfect husband i'm not even playing like walk with me... he goes to the gym, he can cook, he would be down extremely bad for his partner LIKE TRUST. his love language doesn't exist cause he uses them all like his rich ass would buy anything you asked for. when people ask him if he's bored of you now that you're married he's just shocked because how could someone be bored.

hyunjin - strangers to lovers

as i have said before he just looks like a stranger you'd meet on a trip and he's just the best person you've ever met like.. you'd stay with him for a while maybe and it would be the best ever: treats for you every morning, flowers, presents, kisses, portraits, paintings, hugs and lots of hopeless romantic stuff. he just has that mysterious aura that makes him the perfect stranger that turns into something more.

han - brothers best friend

he'd be your brothers awkward friend that comes over once in a while and talks to you looking at the floor cause he got no game and he's loser number one but once you get more comfortable he's just so funny like you find yourself laughing at his stupid jokes all the time. i think he would always have a crush on you since the day you met but won't say it cause you're his friends sister.

felix - childhood friends to lovers

liiikeeee doesn't he just feel like it or am i crazy... he's so warm and cute and fuzzy.. you two have been friends forever (there would probably be a lot of like right people wrong time) and you both realize you like each other but are too scared to confess in fear of ruining your friendship so it all remains a secret till it probably slips out from one of his friends and well you know the rest.

seungmin - enemies to lovers

like everyone says this but i think its so so accurate like he'd be perfect in an academic rivals or office enemies; he would tease and annoy you at any occasion and then realize he's fallen for you but won't admit it ever, and i think he'd become even more annoying when he realizes that he likes you just to suppress those feelings.

jeongin - secret relationship

so errrm hear me out okay, it's the way he's so careful with stuff but he's also so secretive about his feelings i feel like when he finally gets himself to confess and you agree he just needs time. that time would be spent hiding every kiss and holding hands under the table and then walking back to wherever you need to go pretending you're still just friends when you're much more, but only you two need to know that.

i might write these extensively and seriously but i just wanted to put this out there cause ive been thinking about it for so long

[sunnitheapollokid]

. * ๑ ❀՞ — “i think she wants you!”

rivals,, varian x reader (she/her) ⭐️

📫 sunni’s notes! : i might do a pt. 2 on this since i wrote this actually pretty long, but let me know what you guys think!! :) i got inspired to do this oneshot by the movie ‘storks’ when i watched it the other day <3

context : (name) and varian are sworn non-buddies, and they have to babysit the king and queen’s baby.. together.

after varian decided that he was the smartest in the kingdom, (name) did not like that. even though she did admit, varian is the smartest.. she hated that he’d constantly say it to her face.

she roamed around town, buying new paint for her recent comissions. (name) wasn’t seen as an academic achiever like varian, more so as the outgoing painter, kind of like the queen!

the queen rapunzel herself, who was pronounced about five months after the defeat of zhan tiri. (name) helped rapunzel since day one, and ever since the day she met varian.. she had always felt something.

was it a bad or good feeling? till this day, she still didn’t know. “hey attila! how you doing monty?” she greeted, smiling. she carried the basket of paints as she made her way to the castle.

she had recieved a letter from the queen a day before asking her to come over before noon.

❀ *.

“rapunzel?” she called out, putting her basket down as she entered the throne room. “(nickname), you’re here!!” she greeted her with a warm embrace. “good, varian just got here.”

“wai— wha, what?”

she turned her head to lock eyes with, she hated to admit, his pretty.. blue eyes. she could just melt, but kept her stance. “what— what’s she doing here?!” he exclaimed. (name) rolled her eyes. “rapunzel what’s going on?”

rapunzel giggled nervously, “i need you guys to babysit celeste!” — celeste is rapunzel’s two-year old. she had the green eyes and the curiousity of her mother, while she had the silky brown hair of her father.

“gods! i haven’t see this cutie in forever!” (name) took her by under her arms and spun her, celeste giggling. “wait, you said guys?” varian continued, walking closer to the two girls. “yes! we’ll be gone for a few days, so i need you both.”

the two groaned. “seriously? rapunzel i can perfectly handle celeste on my own.” varian took celeste out of (name)’s hands and tickled her chin. “like how you handled that issue with the boiler room a few days ago?” the [long/short] haired snapped.

“HEY! that was one time! ONE TIME!”

“whatever helps you sleep at night geek.”

“okay enough!” rapunzel seperated the two, who glared daggers at one another. “please. me and eugene promise we’ll be back as soon as possible.” she had her hands interwined as she pleaded.

(name) and varian began to feel sorry. “go. we’ll take care of everything.” varian spoke, a sincere smile painted on his face. “you can trust us raps.” (name) hugged the brown haired.

“thank you. it means the absolute world to me.”

that night, the royal couple left in a purple and gold carriage towards one of the seven kingdoms. (name) and varian stayed in the castle in seperate rooms while they took care of celeste.

“i can have her tonight, and you can have her tomorrow.” varian spoke, cold as ice. “sounds good.” (name) nodded, dared not to give eye contact. this only made varian mad though.

❀ *.

(name) woke up for a start, the sun’s light pouring in and slightly blinded her. “oof.. what time is it?” she asked herself, looking at her wall-clock that read 8:07 am.

“let’s see how well var did last night.”

she got dressed, and made her way to the courtyard, where breakfast is usually served. she found varian slumping over a cup of coffee.

she laughed, “so.. how was first night?” she sat across him, right after she caressed a napping celeste. “argh.. don’t ask. and don’t laugh.” he shot. “that bad?” (name) teased, taking a bite of her eggs.

varian took another sip, a quill resting on his ear, his ebony black completely messy, and his uniform ruffled and out of place. don’t know.. to (name), he looked kind of attractive.

she shook the thought off, sipping some juice. “anyway. i have some errands to run, you two want to come?” varian asked. “hm.” she hummed, thinking that he wouldn’t want to spend time with either of them.

she peeked to look at celeste, “why not.”

later in the day, they walked around town while varian bought some items for some projects he was working on. “thank you.” he spoke as he handed the man the bag of coins.

he walked back to (name), who was cradling a still sleeping celeste. (name) had a summer dress on, a brown embroided bag slinged over her shoulder. varian moved the strands of hair infront of celeste’s face.

“oh goodness! i didn’t know you two would be up and about!” feldspar smiled. the two’s eyes widened and gave each other a look.

“her?!”

“him?!”

from their yell, celeste had woken up, crying. “oh.. sh, sh..” (name) rocked her. varian tried to help too, singing a song — a lullaby. but she wouldn’t stop crying. “argh, what does she want?!”

“maybe she’s hungry!” he handed (name) a bottle from his bag, but celeste just swatted the bottle away. “nope. maybe.. she needs to change!” varian bent down to get a sniff, “no.”

(name) continued to rock her back and forth. “well she definitely doesn’t want to take another nap.” (name) spoke, varian gave a slight nervous smile. celeste began to extend her arms to varian.

“i think she wants you!” (name) called. “what?! i had her all the night already!” varian yelled, celeste, agitated, cried louder. “varian!!” (name) yelled back. “okay, okay!” varian took celeste and began to rock her, singing a soft lullaby.

with that, celeste calmed down. (name) leaned against the wall, letting out a deep sigh blended in with a laugh. varian shared that laugh with her, baby celeste finally calm. realizing that they were laughing together, varian cleared his throat.

(name) anxiously ran her fingers through her hair, “anyways.. uh, me and celeste can make our way back to the castle. you should finish your errands.. without, us in the way.” (name) reached out for the brunette.

“no way! i mean—“ varian choked. (name) raised a brow. “it’s okay seriously. celeste is clearly more calm with me.” god he should’ve shut up after the first half. (name) thought to herself. “please (name)?” varian asked, letting (name) trail off her thoughts.

he looked, like he really did want them both there. she stifled a laugh, “whatever you say geek.”

[hyuckmov]

haechan — just for you

boyfriend!haechan x afab reader 1.6k, smut, minors dni, some fluff warnings: light dom/sub themes (haechan as dom), slight dumbification, fingering (f recieving), some aftercare, some subspace, haechan is a terms of endearment kind of guy, overuse of the word baby a/n: idk everyone...SORRY if this is what no one was expecting i have other works otw with no smut but i was just feeling kind of ~stressed~ so i wrote this. it's basically completely smut so minors dni please! first time writing something like this i hope it's at least kind of hot LOL anyway do leave an ask or reply if you enjoyed this <3 other pg works on the way i PROMISE

“you need to relax, babe.” 

haechan reaches over and plucks the keys from your fumbling hands. slotting them easily into the door, he holds it open for you as you storm in, still fuming. 

“i have no idea who that guy thinks he is. how am i going to do this paper with him? who’s going to tell him that diminishing romeo and juliet to a cheap love story about two idiot kids completely undermines the point Shakespeare was trying to make to us? i mean, the characterisation, and the development…” 

“you’ll tell him sweetheart, i’m sure.” 

flinging your bag onto the chair, you grab your many binders and folders and lay them out on the table. fishing your well-worn copy of romeo and juliet out onto the table, you thumbed through your annotations. you couldn’t believe your classmate, who thought he was better than the whole class, had picked another fight with you just as class was about to end, with one of his horrible horrible takes. 

“you know, maybe he’s a little in love with you.” 

your head snaps up. “what?” 

haechan lounged easily on the couch. somewhere between the front door and the living room he had taken off his large hoodie, leaving him in a thin white t-shirt and ripped jeans. his legs spread haphazardly, he propped his head up with a hand, eyes fixed on you. “i mean, it reminds me a little of how we got together. us arguing all the time…you finding reasons to talk to me in the hallway to call me out for something…” 

you had tuned out what he was saying, just a little bit. you loved those ripped jeans, and the way his legs seemed to stretch on for miles… 

looking at the dazed expression on your face, haechan bit back a smile. “y/n? earth to y/n?” 

shaking your head to bring yourself out of it, you look back at your book. “sorry, what were you saying?” 

“i was saying…”, enjoying this immensely, haechan played with the rips in his jeans, tugging at the fabric. “maybe he’s just trying to get your attention.” 

“or maybe he just doesn’t understand the reading.” you scowled. “you know, he dismissed gender roles as important to the context of the play. it’s just so infuriating when he’s going at it from such a limited perspective, this lack of sensitivity to the nuances and dismissals of whatever he deems unimportant from his contemporary views…” 

unbeknownst to you, haechan’s mind was beginning to wander as he continued to fix his gaze on yours. he loved it when you would talk academic, loved it when you got competitive. those passionate rants on anything from literature to bioengineering always made you look sexy to him. his eyes take in your flushed cheeks, your hair coming undone from the ponytail, the tightness of your pencil skirt and the way your chest heaved up and down.

“baby,” he called softly. turning around to face him, he opened his arms. “put down your book and come here.” 

sighing, you set down your study materials and walked over to your boyfriend. as you got ready to settle down on his lap, he shook his head, and maneuvered you until you were straddling him. brushing the hair out of your eyes tenderly, he began to kiss down the side of your neck. 

“haechan,” you whisper. he hums against your skin, and you feel chills running down your spine. “i really need to go finish my paper.” 

“it can wait, can’t it baby?” pulling away, he looks at you, his eyes dark. “that pretty little head of yours needs a break from all that thinking.” 

because haechan thought you were irresistible when you were clever, if only because he knew he was the only one who could make your brain go empty. 

slipping his hands under the hem of your skirt, his fingers snake their way around the back of your thighs.

"haechan, what are you doing?"

"trying to make you feel good. is it working?" his boyish smile spreads across his face, and you practically swoon.

you’re beginning to feel hazy, whimpering slightly as he leans forward to kiss you deeply, swallowing all your sounds. you let out a moan when his fingers brush over your core, and you can feel him smile into the kiss. 

“you okay, y/n?” 

not knowing what to say, no longer able to find the words for it, you are completely enveloped in your boyfriends hands and his perfume. letting out a whine and hoping it would suffice, you push yourself further into his hold.

“mmm, i can’t understand that baby.” he laughs, and the sound vibrates against you. 

“please.” 

“please what?” 

his hands make their way back down your skirt and come up to hold you at your hips. the lack of warmth makes you squirm, and you push yourself against him again. “haechan….” 

“what’s wrong, baby?” he pulls your face away from his neck, and although his tone is sweet and soothing, the way he licks his puffy lips is completely sinful. “thought you wanted to talk about the…characterisation, was it?”

“the what?” 

he grins at that. “your paper?” slowly, you blink up at him, lost. “babe, i’ve just kissed you a little. lost your mind already?” 

his words were a nice muddle of sounds, but what you did know, and what you could feel, was his hard-on, pressing against your thigh through his jeans. “mmh,” you mumble, absentmindedly, as you begin to grind against him. 

letting out a moan, he throws his head back, and you melt at the way his eyes roll into the back of his head. but soon, he refocuses, and grabs your hips. “baby, wait. i’m in charge right now.” 

struck, you halt your movements. “okay” you say, in a small voice. 

“good girl,” he sighs, bringing one hand to your core again while the other strokes the small of your back. he makes shushing sounds at you as your thighs quiver and your lip begins to wobble. pulling your panties to the side, he brushes his fingers against the lips of your pussy. “fuck, you’re so wet. ” 

“haechan-” 

“shhhh…” he slips a finger inside, continuing to shush you as you let out a moan. “how does it feel, baby?” 

“it hurts.” your mind has gone completely fuzzy, except for the man in front of you, his eyes half-lidded and his mouth hanging slightly open, breaths coming quick with lust. “it hurts haechan.” 

“where does it hurt, baby? be a good girl and tell me.” 

“i don’t know.” you shake your head, trying to clear it, but he chooses that moment to add another finger, angling them deep inside you. 

“there? does it feel better now?” you nod, but then you shake your head, because you want more. he pouts at you, sweetly, but somewhere in the haze of your mind you can see that he’s putting on an act. he knows exactly what you want, and he’s dangling it just out of your reach. 

“i don’t know what you mean,” he pouts, and withdraws his fingers. you whine, as he sucks on them, not breaking eye contact the whole time. “it’s okay, let’s try that again, okay baby?” he slides them past your entrance, and curls them against your walls, “does this feel good,” he stops his movements, and spreads his fingers apart instead, scissoring motions stretching you out. “or this?” 

“both,” you nod, eagerly. 

he clicks his tongue at you, and shakes his head, slowly. “pick one.” 

you blink at him, the movement of his fingers dominating your entire mind. you just don’t want him to stop. “the first one.” 

“whatever my baby wants.” he presses his palm to your clit to rub slow, heavy circles. “are you going to cum?” 

you moan. you’ve given up on verbal answers entirely, lost in the haze of pleasure. burying your face in his neck, you bite and lick at the skin, as he hums satisfactorily. “haechan, wanna, gonna…” 

“go for it, baby,” he whispers, quickening the movement of his hand. you begin to rut against him, riding his fingers. “you’re just mine aren’t you? bet your classmate would kill to see you like this, all fucked out and dumb over my fingers.” you cry out, your hands grasping his shoulders desperately, your hips moving as if they had a mind of their own. 

he lets out a growl, his hand on your back coming up roughly to untuck your blouse from your skirt, as he shoves a hand up to palm your chest over your bra. “come. now.” blubbering, a moan of pretty half-words and swears come tumbling out as you reach your climax, his fingers relentless against your clit and inside of you, riding out your high until you slump down against him, spent and tired. 

haechan removes his fingers from you, licking them clean as he looks down at you fondly. gathering up your limbs, he strokes your hair to comfort you as you come down from your high, and the fog in your head slowly clears. 

“baby? are you with me?”

“mmh,” idly, you blink up at him. 

“okay, maybe not yet.” he chuckles, smiling to himself at how cute you could be. “you’ve been so good for me today. the best girl.” he presses a kiss to your forehead.

preening at the praise, you press against him. “wait, haechan-” you sit up suddenly, and his hands go to your waist to steady you. 

“what is it, baby?” 

“you’re still hard.” you begin to fumble with his belt. “wanna make you feel good.” 

swatting your hands away gently, he holds them in his and places a light kiss to your fingertips. “no, baby. you can make me feel good later. you have a paper to write.” 

your face falls. “a paper?” 

he smiles. “it’ll come to you soon.” he’s so proud that he’s the one that gets to make you fall apart this way, the one version of you that no one else gets to see. “come on, baby. let’s go take a bath.” carefully, he scoops you up in his arms, and heads for the bathroom.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my sister that I didn't find her instagram post funny and that I didn't want her to send me things like that again?

I (32f) have never had a good relationship with my sister (34f). We have gotten somewhat better over time, but we have always had a strained relationship. We are about as opposite as you can be. Social rights issues? No compromise. ACAB? Constant disagreements. Politics: best never mention them. TV Shows? No interest at all. Music? We cannot stand each other's music. We genuinely have nothing except our blood and the fact we were raised by the same people in common.

I am currently in the process of finishing my PhD and live on a different continent to her. We have been vaguely trying to talk and maintain a cordial friendship from afar.

For the past four months I had been preparing for a conference that I was organizing, leading, and moderating. It was a massive project that will be a huge part of my dissertation research, and it went very well. The day after the conference I had a long career planning discussion with some academic advisors, and spent about three hours talking in my second language with my own advisor. The combination of everything left me genuinely exhausted to the point that I woke up the day after it all still too tired to move.

After I woke up, I realized I had a text from her containing an instagram link - no comment, no notes, no context, just the link. I know I wasn't in a perfect headspace and still needed more sleep, but I clicked it because usually she just spam sends me instagram videos about random baby rearing things she finds funny. I don't find any of them amusing, but tolerate them because she seems to enjoy it. I usually just nod my head or offer a few responses to show I've seen it and move on.

But this video was different. This video was, as far as I can tell, an influencer attempt at selling an AI. It had a young woman walk into a classroom with the onscreen text describing how "my professor is the same age as us and she has her phd!" and when she was asked how she got it, the video shows how the "teacher" went onto Youtube, put Youtube videos into this AI which created an algorithm to summarize the video. It ends with the words "University is a joke in 2024".

I was....genuinely offended. After everything I had been through working on this conference and with years of thesis work, I was just hurt. I watched it a few times, trying to understand what it was even trying to say, and could come up with no good reason for why she would just send it to me. So I wrote back to her "idk how you even want me to respond."

She said she thought it was funny, and I asked her if she understood why I wouldn't find it funny. She wrote back "because you lack my sense of humor smh." I tried explaining why I was upset and reframed it in the context of her job. She doubled down that she thought it was funny, but that it was because she thought it was amusing anyone would think they could get any kind of degree like that.

I explained that AI is genuinely a problem in universities right now and that our students are using it to get through their classes and it's causing a lot of chaos with profs trying to crack down on it. Then I told her it felt like she sent me something just to annoy me.

The argument continued from there. I asked her not to send me stuff like that again, and she asked how she was supposed to know I would be triggered by an AI video, and that I was being oversensitive, and how it was my fault for always assuming that she is plotting to piss me off and that she can never show an interest in my life without me having a "feelings dumpfest" and calling her out for being a bully.

I don't understand how she could think sending a video to me saying "university is a joke in 2024" with no context at all would be taken as a joke in the first place. And I felt like if I didn't tell her I didn't like this kind of video and why it made me upset she would keep sending things like this to me I'd have to keep seeing and ignoring future posts.

AITA for telling her I didn't think it was funny and to stop?

Should I have just ignored it and gone back to sleep? (At this point that's what I felt like I should have done...)

What are these acronyms?

[rennybu]

hi.... i'm just a poor boy . who does not know the loam lore. would you be willing to share.... a summary.... (so curious i am a loam enjoyer)

oh my gosh hi griff..! oh there is so much to tell... i will h ave no choice but to put this under a readmore. the shortest answer is that he is my character of 3+ years in @jawsandbones homebrew dnd campaign and he is like a son to me. but to start off with baby pictures:

LOAM was born 52 years ago in a city called TILDEN, which is blocked off overland by a CURSED* SWAMP that creeps closer every year.

*Misremembered and only Recently Re-Contextualized Major Historical event

His mom is a shy, worried, and loving woman named Bayla - she's a druid and sells medicinal mushrooms of all sorts. His dad is an unwaveringly positive (but incredibly serious) mason named Uttara who proudly works on all sorts of projects around the city, especially major infrastructure. Yay stoneworkers!

(Because fantasy lifespans are strange and somewhat silly to me I just imagine Firbolgs to be stuck in their mid-20s existential dread until they're like at least 150. The backstory part of this spans literally 51 of his 52 year s of life. he's so young)

He got equal enrichment from time spent in nature with his mom as from time spent in the city with his dad. His nickname in the Tilden Firbolg community To This Day is "Always With Questions" - a kind of affix to differentiate him from any other Loams. He may not know much but he really would like to find out, please!!!! He sees a lot of beauty in the natural world, but his idea of what's natural is skewed somewhat by the uh, Curse. He once fell through some algae into a deep body of water and had a very fun memento mori experience as a kiddo (beautiful golden sunbeam shining onto a silty skull)

He got the name Loam very young from his interest in both his parents' work, which lead to him learning about soil types and uses in gardening and construction aklfhglskg. Loam was important for both jobs so he (in guess-what-I-just-learned little kid fashion) told everyone who would listen about it. The association STUCK and he's Loam now :].

His birth name is actually Rahara! but that's secret knowledge only his bestest friends and Tzip and some scarycool important NPCs know.

He loves beasts and magic and plants so much. And on the flip side he also loves and is fascinated by architecture and engineering. He never got any like, higher academic schooling or whatever, but had many many different apprenticeship type training relationships from his parents, other tradespeople in the city, from the senior rangers etc etc.

Small break to plug @jawsandbones lore packets for the Quarter Cities (including Tilden), Scarabae, and the overall campaign setting!!!! I'm just gonna talk about stuff without adding too much context of my own because AAA WORD COUNT!!!

The hole in Loam's ear was brought about by a shit ass Tilden local trying to tear his earring off him, since he'd bought it from a foreign merchant from a city Tilden/the Quarter has historically warred with. Loam's always been open minded and deeply curious about other cities, due to how isolated the bog is. Any visiting merchants are sources of wonder!!!! Even though he only bought the one hoop earring from the Quietus merchants (Mirjam and Mihail, mother and son!), after the ice was broken he stayed by their stall the rest of the day and talked about all kinds of things, and befriended Mihail!

Loam trained as a ranger as soon as he was old enough to do so!!!! He saw it as the next logical step past what his parents would be able to show him and was incredibly eager to get hands-on experience in the wilds. He met his first ever boyfriend among his peers there!!! Bragi... he has had many lovers and situationships in Tilden since, BUT only recently feels comfortable trying monogamy again after meeting Tzipporah.

Bragi unfortunately died badly to a creature in a traumatic backstory incident that left young Loam super fucking bereft and hyper aware of how easy it is to die. (Big monster attack + group of trainee rangers accompanied by a few more senior rangers + chaos and bloodshed. Loam carried Bragi to safety and tried resuscitating him but he was already gone. The experience made him uncomfortable with the idea of being in a defined, monogamous intimate relationship for the next like. 19 years. He felt like he got ripped in half!)

After the ranger's guild recovers from THE CREATURE ATTACK, Loam meets his close friend, Reece, a fellow ranger and Kenku (she looks like a masked shrike)!!!

He gets his septum pierced by the same visiting merchants from Quietus a few years after Bragi's death. It's a very important moment for him, where it feels like he can finally start to let himself change and grow beyond that event. He also spends more and more time in the city, away from the more rural/overgrown districts, and chases a love for the arts and partying and people, where he meets Kallirhoe (human, not a even a classed bard but like. an indie musician. an eboy if high fantasy had eboys. a tattooed twinkish fellow. you know the type)! They are very good friends who also have sex. Many days spent waxing poetic about THE BIG WIDE WORLD and how they'll never get to see it. (Spoiler: He sees it)

Loam gets into tarot as a hobby, and makes his own deck in a very scribbly freehand style with ink and charcoal!!!! he's slowly replacing them with more Worldly artwork - the deck he left home with was very. Tildencore

Many good years of being a party girl who has to go work a construction job tomorrow and then go be a ranger at 6. A rich and storied life. AND THEN THE GAME TIMELINE STARTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A path Through the bog has recently finished being built by Dagda, the Southern representative to the other Quarter Cities, making more trade possible overland, and making local tensions go even crazier. Also there are strange Awful Huge Scary Monsters appearing WORLDWIDE, so the Directions and the Three Kings of Scarabae and the remote island of Geest (ADRA'S HOME!) and the mysterious magical Widow's Wood are all like "STOP WAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING RN". Trials are held in the Western city of Dina to appoint FOUR TEAMS OF FOUR to help defend against the new threat. Loam is like. Well I've gotta fucking do that. I've got to try. If I'm not chosen, at least I've set foot outside. He has a fight with his mom about this, because she is terrified she will lose him, like she lost her mother in a previous conflict when Scarabae was occupying the Quarter, before Loam was born. He stands firm and his dad has his back, and ultimately he leaves with both their blessings, but his dismissal of his mom's feelings weighs heavy on him the longer he's away from home. (He has a big cry and reconciliation about this when he is next able to come home.)

I'm clapping and cheering and skipping joyfully because now he HAS MET HIS BESTEST, DEAREST, CLOSEST FRIENDS IN THE ENTIRE WORLD: ADRA ILSA AND TALEE!!!!!!! I have to be so careful now because we have no joke hundreds of pages of notes. I cannot read that shit on google docs mobile app. We are approaching session one hundred and fifty of this game. They love each other so fucking much. THEY ARE THE INFORMATION GATHERERS!!! A PARTY OF SLEUTHS!!!

He also has his meet-cute with Tzipporah at the trials, which in hindsight is hilarious, because of the whole, "Tzipporah was sent to the trials as a spy (by the very people responsible for the giant awful monster crisis) and immediately pegged Loam for an easy mark to get information from" thing. And he was 100% correct. But a lot has to happen before that gets revealed. They took a nice night walk and write each other big long letters. And Loam tells him soooooo much <3

At one point while exploring a wizard tower he attunes to a lightly cursed ring and forgets what his parents look like, like their likenesses are Gone from past and recent memory. Which is a big thorn of homesickness that he writes to them about. He has a big cry and stares at them both for a LONG time when he next sees them.

Also they save an orphaned Kenku from some bandits and now Loam has a little shoulder-sniper named Bubby. We have a son. A perfect little crow son who is really good at killing, with arrows. He hides things in Loam's hood regularly

Other major things include ummm umm Loam's TWO deaths, one during a dungeon-rescue type scenario in a room that was Flooding and full of Phantoms and also a charmed Druid (Feyan, good friends now) wildshaped into a big scary water snake. He was hurt bad and (comedically) levitated so he wouldn't DROWN but then got Phantom Speared right through the torso. Second one was because Tzip's evil half brother Vences was like, mad at him for being a good influence on Tzipporah and interfering with the spy duties. Chill touch so no healing + dagger in the ribs! Ow. Also the reveal that Tzip was a spy was happening like, simultaneously here so we were yowling and screaming. (Well. Talee and Co had their long time hunches about this. Loam and I had turned a beautiful blind eye to all suspicious activity)

ANYWAY HIS DEATH SCARS LOOK LIKE A COMET ABOVE HIS BELLY!!!! The spear scar made a patch of his fur turn white (front and back), and the dagger scar is its crude tail!

I am skipping over so many plot revelations i. This is just the Loam Cut. and it's not even all of it.

His buzzcut was for emotional superstitious reasons!!! He cut it after Death 2 and Tzipporah getting taken against his will back into Evil Gang. Loam's mom has a lock of his hair at home now. ALL THIS TO SAY TZIP IS OKAY, NO LONGER SPYING, WE RESCUED HIM AND RIPPED A MASK OFF HIM AND SAVED HIM FROM GETTING HIS MIND EXCAVATED ! SO LOAM IS GROWING HIS HAIR OUT AGAIN!

The deaths of his close friends and their allies have also been. insane for him to process. To return someone to life in this setting u need to like. entreat a Titan. plead on the deceased's behalf and offer something up for the chance to revive them. (NO player spells like revivify. house rule) So interacting with these entities he sees as like Both forces of the natural world AND of huge religious/cultural importance regionally. And to have their requests be HEARD? He loves magic he loves Titans. And the plot is unfolding in such a way that scares me so bad. He loves his titan (The Curious Spear) SOOOO MUCH he has like the foundational belief that it can see through his eyes. Even if not true it motivates him to always seek understanding of strange new things.

Oh my god I didn't even talk about his multiclass into druid. He's a druid also. Circle of the Stars!! As a navigational point. He loves them. He loves space. He loves geography and regional interpretations of constellations. He used to just do freehand observations but truly became dedicated to charting the skies of every place the party travels to, after Tzipporah gifted him a grid-lined journal <3 <3 <3 STARRY FORM!!!!!!

His awe and inspiration and hunger for knowledge is the well he draws magical power from. My Boy is thematically bound up in the soggiest parts of this earth and also the unknowably distant stars above and I'm normal about it (lie) (There is a new and scary Third Thing rising which is the space between. I <3 Void). I know i draw him beige and green but his like, character colour theme is. Dusk to me. Gloaming. When the world is lit like a dream <3

In summary. In conclusion. He and Adra and Ilsa and Talee (and the rest of the Four of Four) are trying to prevent Global Disaster of an existential scale never before seen and are being very brave about it.

Loam wants to understand everything about Everything. Because understanding is love. Unfortunately there are hostile resentful and vengeful forces making this hard to do. Most recently by saving a city we Unmade a magically sustained centuries-old library. And we haven't had time to like fully let that sink in. Because of the horrors of war and being Four of Four means responding to emergencies and protecting cities as best we can against a foe that was forgotten by history until like, 10 months ago. Less, even. I hope this is anything. I hope u are his friend now too because he is yours

good lord how could i forget. His gender is male in such a way that he does not give a shit about it. He's one of the girls. He's genderless. Like a knight. His sense of identity is built on Living Laughing and Loving.

his personal goals are 1. to uncurse the bog in such a way that the wrongs committed by Tilden historically are brought to light and righted, 2. to get super married to Tzipporah and build a house together, and 3. to somehow, eventually, through great teamwork and effort, cure(?) the dreadful lingering soul plague on the island of demeter. HUMBLE! OH and to make a finished star chart covering the entire planet. humble.

thank u for reading here are his current stats

[abberant-butler]

Again. You wake up in your bed.

___ 1/2 I started this, my room flooded. I took a week off because all my stuff was in the living room. I set up my computer, worked on this, the dishwasher leaked and the pipe that flooded my room burst again when I got back from fixing a flat tire. I feel like an OBM truther with an active hit or something (/joking, very joking). Anyway, here's the first half of a Timeloop MC. The second half will happen... eventually. I'm very invested but and life and computer access keep testing me. lol ___

Waking up in your bed wasn’t the surprise. For now, there was a moment of hope. Had you done it? Had you managed to escape? Your feet hit the cold stone floor and you know that you shouldn’t get ahead of yourself. Yet. Belphegor wasn’t at breakfast. The drop in your mood is noted, but no one yet knows you well enough to ask. So that night, you travel up the stairs, standing at an arm's length.

Belphegor berates you for trusting him. You remember that it used to break your heart to hear him talk to you like that. Now, it’s just easier to get it over with.

Again.

You wake up in your bed.

Leviathan was angry that you thought you might have answers he didn’t. Enraged that, in the end, you did. Blinded by his passion and envy, he hadn’t even connected the dots of sharing space with his favorite author. In your confidence, this time, you push him past the edge.

Mammon wasn’t quick enough to save you. Yet if you’d let Levi win, he would have killed you anyway. It was something you’d already tried. Just as you’d tried this. Over, and over.

Again.

You wake up in your bed.

You’ve never lied to Asmodeus. You know his powers don’t work on you, but on one of the tries, you just let him think it does. Naturally you tell him the truth at every moment, yet in his own paranoia, he pulls out your heart- just to be sure. It’s strange to hear how quiet your body is without that heart. Without a pulse. The first time was horrible. Now, at least, you can appreciate the swiftness and the expensive perfume as you pitch forward into his arms.

You’re not sure if his brothers ever forgive him entirely, or if the exchange program goes on. It’s not like you’re someone as important as Solomon. Sometimes you think that his end is your favorite, because it’s always out of love. Twisted, scorned, strange love.

Again.

You wake up in your bed.

It’s getting old. You’re learning. Don’t be surprised by the way that Diavolo greets you. His butler is watching. Accept your place and stand up to Mammon, because he needs to know that you’ll fight. He needs to know that he’ll have a chance to get to you, when you need him, even if you already know he won’t be. 

This time, when Lucifer tells you to guard the fridge at night from Beelzebub, you fail. Everyone is asleep. There wasn’t anything you could really expect them to do. It’s part of your internal debate on whether or not they even find evidence of your fate, or just fill out the paperwork to report you missing. Again. You wake up in your bed.

Satan offers you his pact. You know it’s reactionary… … You also know there’s no ‘right’ answer. If you accept, he’ll resent you for acting on his moment of weakness. If you reject, he’ll find your rebuff a personal affront to his importance. He’s angry beyond logic, beyond reason, but this time you try once more. There has to be a way out of this. In other tries, Satan is your friend. He shares his mystery books and his academic skills to try and help. It never works, but there has to be a way.

At least, like Asmo, his fury makes your end swift. Unlike Asmo, his rage doesn’t stop when your heart does. You imagine he goes on to destroy the rest of the house, the way you’re told he did when he was young. Again. You wake up in your bed.

Lucifer looms over you in the crypt, furious at your discovery with his brother and Luke. You can’t even blame him. It’s an invasion of privacy that you hadn’t even considered in context. Yet. You can’t bring yourself to really be upset, either. This only adds to his fury.

“Do you actually think I’m going to allow a lowly human that choice?! THAT YOU CAN HAVE WHATEVER IT IS YOU WANT?!”

No.

No, Lucifer, you never offer a choice.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Numbness is the only thing you can feel. There are no more unexpected turns. There are no more arguments that you’ve muttered to yourself for hours or days just to use them on the next try. Death is always the result, and it’s the only way that you can have a moment of peace. Otherwise it’s yelling or bickering or life threatening situations. Mammon tries, he always tries. You’ll forgive him every time for his greed, because it’s the only thing that’s never killed you.

You wake up in your bed.

You wake up in your bed.

You wake up in your bed.

It doesn’t matter if you roll over and sleep in or if you tear apart every piece of fabric that you can twist your fists into. It doesn’t matter. It always ends, it always begins again. It goes. Over and over. The only metric that you can measure by is how it will make you feel in that moment. Today, you are just… tired.

It’s old. It’s ancient. You’ve learned. Don’t be surprised by the way that Diavolo greets you. His butler is watching. Accept your place-... The butler is watching. Has he always looked so sad?

This time, when Lucifer tells you to guard the fridge that night from Beelzebub, you know that if you do not get out of bed, the wall will collapse in on you. It will be because Beel finds his pudding missing. Suffocation is the worst death, so you pull yourself from the warm blankets to head around the corner to at least find something swifter than asphyxiation.

The butler is there.

He has brought a feast.

It’s the first surprise you can remember feeling.

Beel eats what has been brought from the castle, and goes to bed. You stand, in disbelief, with your hands in hot water as you help wash the dishes. The Demon Prince’s servant is gone shortly after. He hasn’t said a word.

You slip back under your covers, the sheets still slightly warm from your earlier presence.

You wake up in your bed.

Again… 

You suppose. 

The new day feels different. Yet the same. 

[gayerthanevertbh]

say your prayers - one.

pairings | dark!priestess!natasha romanoff x reader

– summary: your school have church service once every week. of course, as a good little schoolgirl you are, you attend to it. which means you always have to see your priestess, natasha, who you are secretly infatuated with. until there was an unexpected turn that made you feel something else other than good. but maybe, even better.  

– warnings: smut/dark taboo themes - 18+ YOU’VE BEEN WARNED! non-con/dub-con, religious themes, sacrilegious acts, blasphemy of religion, biblical references, rough sex, loss of virginity, dark!natasha, oral sex (r receiving), Mother kink, heavily detailed smut, natasha being a creep, and more.

– notes: this was so well written i’m actually kind of happy about this chapter. there will be more in the future, for now this. enjoy! <3

series masterlist | navigation | taglist for this series

I attend the chapel every week. The school requires you to, so I don’t really have a choice. Usually, my choices are: to drop my scholarship and move to a new school so I don’t have to do all the religious routine or suck it up. And mostly, I do suck it up. Mainly because my parents are believers of God and would be a saint when it comes to him. I’m like that too, I pray and confess my sins and sometimes even ask for help when I do need it. I’m a good girl, as they say. And I am a good girl.

It just simply goes away once I see my priestess once a week.

Ruther Catholic College has been my high school life, I’ve been in boarding school ever since I turned fifteen years old. My parents, who are religious people, think that Catholic schools do good for schoolgirls like me. I am a good schoolgirl, I just have issues that I’d rather not talk about. I have never been vocal about it either, not finding a sense in it since I don’t talk to a lot of people. I do have friends, but I skip my time with them so that I could read my books. I’m an aspiring writer, a journalist. I write the simplest stories that are book worthy and it makes me think that I am talented and educationally smart–since I was raised that way. I’m a Rogers, for Christ’s sake. Of course, being academically smart has to be on the charts.

But I cannot shake off my infatuation with my priestess, Natasha, who is twice my age. She has the kindest eyes that I’ve ever laid my eyes on, all my teachers are bastards and have soggy jawlines. But Mother Natasha has a face of a babe with the maturity that comes with it. Her lips are subtle and thick, and her hands are quite long and neat. She wears this attire every Friday and does the chapel, preaches the word of God, and makes us go to the confession room to reveal our sins with no shame. I still have to wonder who was behind that divider, because there are many women in that church that could possibly be forgiving my sins. I’ve blatantly confessed to many women, not knowing who they are.

Anyway, the humanities building is the largest dorm of all in New York. We have our own rooms, our own food too. But we are still required to go to the cafeteria to say our prayers, to bond with other schoolgirls. I, personally, do like having my own space. The context of someone being in your room can be very intrusive, which I am not fond of. I have a desk that has most of my writings, and poems that are short. On the other side, my single bed was there as well as my long rectangular-shaped window. Beside the door are my bookshelves which have the cross of Jesus Christ above the wooden shelf. I’d invite a friend or two to have a book date, but never less sleep there. There would be a couple of nuns on the watch, especially at night. That means we aren’t allowed to even get out of the building without permission and say where we are headed. Only our parents can pick us up from our school.

Today is Friday which is my luck to see Mother Natasha again. I hiked my white long socks all the way to my knees and got into my black shoes that felt hard on my heels. Though, I have no choice but not to wear them. When I was in the hallway, I could feel the cold breeze of the air. It’s September and it’s the start of my year, I turned eighteen a week ago and spent it with my parents. Some of them say I still act like a fifteen-year-old kid, but I don’t think that way. With how smart I am, I felt like an adult once I reached this age. I see Wanda with her hair tied up that shows off her brunette locks, she smiles at me and brings her arm inside mine.

“Guess what?”

“What?” I asked while trying to stop the itch from my feet, making my face scrunched in a weird look.

“I’m getting a laptop soon!” she says joyfully, squealing with her arms tightening around mine. It hurt, but it didn’t matter. I smiled to silently tell Wanda that I was happy for her, truly I was.

“That’s nice,” I responded with a huff because of the cold wind. “I was wondering when I’m going to get mine. I could write better stories there.”

“You’re always writing and reading, don’t you ever get bored?”

“No,” I huffed again. “Not really. It only keeps me away from reality, I get to choose what it feels like to be loved and unloved. I also get to choose whether I’m religious or not.”

I was a good girl but never came to terms with my religion. I believe in God, though. I truly do think he’s capable of all of us sinners and people, it’s just hard to believe when your teacher says something about the world ending. Revelation is not the best chapter in the Bible, it never was. Truly because I think it’s fictional and hypothetical for these things to happen, it has been said for many years. I still don’t see it happening.

Maybe that makes me a sinner of not being afraid of death. I'm not afraid of the underground world once I die, because I know that it’s a place for me and other people who go through my struggle. I’d rather not admit it, it makes me feel ashamed of myself.

When we reached the big wooden doors that lead to the chapel, I gulped. I could feel my throat restraining as if I’m not allowed to talk–which was the case, you aren’t allowed to talk in the chapel. Once it opens, all of us schoolgirls come rushing in quietly. Of course in line. I see my teachers being in the back row while there are a few nuns in the front row, and the section of my class sits in the right row in the middle of the church. So I sat there quietly with Wanda, who had her feet pressed together. A nun was at the altar playing the piano that was ringing in our ears beautifully, and I do find it relaxing. And once everyone was in the chapel, the priestess made her entrance.

Mother Natasha.

I could hear Wanda mumbling, “I wonder if she has a husband. She seems lonely, I mean look at her stance. It screams I want a husband. Do you think she wants one? Or does she have one already?”

I imagine Mother Natasha bringing her husband, who is possibly a priest. And I almost made a grimace look because of that imagination. I’d like to think Natasha is a lonely person who has her personal space and has a wonderful mind. And even if I don’t know her, she radiates that kind of mood. Especially how well-spoken she was, even if they are scriptures from the Bible. I responded to her quietly that I don’t think that she wants a husband, and Wanda just shrugs saying with another mumble: “That’s sad, I don’t want that. I would like a husband someday.”

Why do everyone has to think about marriage? Why can’t we just be happy with ourselves? I do personally think that marriage is a waste and something impulsive to do. There’s nothing forever in everything, even with stupid marriage. The thought of the word forever cringes me, it makes my body feel tingly with that word. I hate it, I hate it more than my dad.

“Please stand up for our prayer,” says Mother Natasha with a broad voice, everyone else closing their eyes. I had to do it as well but urged them to open again just to see her, to take a glimpse of her. After a long prayer, the service began. I was holding onto my Bible while still listening to her preaching, appreciating how there was so much power in her voice. I wish I could easily do that, to attract people with just my voice.

“For rebellion is as the sin of divination,

And insubordination is as iniquity and idolatry.

Because you have rejected the word of the Lord,

He has also rejected you from being king.”

When she says those words with such vulnerability, we make eye contact. It was brief, yet it meant so much to me. She looked at me. And I could see her creating a small smile that was so fainted, you could barely see it. My body tensed from the way her eyes were looking at mine, it was like I couldn’t breathe. My heart stopped. How utterly infatuated I was with something sinful that I cannot despair. She was a woman, a grown woman. I was a kid, practically a teenager still. Yet, she still looked at me without meaning.

After the service, we were asked to go to the confession room as always. It had to take a while since there were a lot of students and it took at least a minute or two. I was waiting in line with my fingers playing on the edge of my skirt. I bit the inside of my cheek, wondering about the possibilities that could happen later once I confess. But mostly, I thought about how Mother Natasha looked at me and almost gave me a smile. Was it sinful enough for me to want it from her?

“Y/N Rogers,” a nun calls me. I lifted my head up in response. “You’re up next. Don’t take too long.”

I mumbled a thank you for being polite and walked inside the small booth, closing the curtains. It felt intimate to be here again, to sit on the warm wooden chair and be faced by a divider. I start by saying with a light voice: “Bless me, Mother, for I have sinned. My last confession was about watching sexual films that my friend and I did, and I have thoughts about it. And for my next confession, I began to research abortion so that I could be prepared for the future. I know that it’s sinful to kill a child inside of your womb, but I was very curious. I will never do something like that again. And for my last one, I’m having an infatuation with someone that they do not know me. They barely made eye contact with me, and I’ve been thinking about them for the longest time.”

There was a short pause until the priestess asked, “Is this person a schoolmate?”

I began to shake my head. Lies, full of lies. I can’t confess something like this, it would be sinful enough to commit to it. It was just a stupid girl crush, no big deal. Wrong, it was a big deal–especially at this church. Homophobia is the real issue here, and they ban any homosexual acts from this school. So, I lied through my teeth.

“No, Mother. Someone else outside of school.”

“By the authority vested in me by the church, I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost. May your confession be a reminder of you, child.”

I then realized how feminine the voice of that woman was. It sounded younger, and not some haggard old voice that you’d usually hear from another priestess. No, this sounded different. It sounded exactly just like Mother Natasha, although more feminine. Much lighter. I overthought this conversation until I made my way back to the room, where I had to do my project in English Class. My teacher, Mrs. Davis, is an outstanding poet. I love learning from her, but she seems too old for me to like. I’m assuming she’s in her sixties or maybe late fifties, but who am I to care about her age? I just simply love her class.

I kiss the small cross from my bracelet as I do a little prayer by the window, apologizing for my sins. It’s a daily ritual, a routine where I knelt down peacefully and talked to God. Whether he’s hearing me or not, I could tell how disappointed he was with my simple infatuation with a woman who was in her forties. I was ashamed, but never truly understood with the exception of being homosexual. Perhaps, I was. But I try my best to push it away, and it’s working.

“Forgive me, Lord Father, for I have sinned today. I know I may have disappointed you, and I will do my best to remain pure to your eyes. In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

                                                       —

Saint as she was on the outside, the devil she was on the inside. Natasha has urges, sexual urges. Maybe infatuation too, but more on the concept of fucking someone has been on her mind. Especially to me, specifically to me. How she’s trying to condemn herself whenever I'm around, how to try not to notice my eyes whenever she preaches. She prays to the Lord every day to push the feeling off, to be a saint in front of his eyes. But her urges continue on as if it was hunting for prey.

Mother Natasha is now inside your room with the door being quietly closed. She holds her clerical collar around her neck, trying to hold off the animalistic self to not grow out immediately. She takes in the coolness of my room, hearing the sounds of the clock ticking as well as the lights outside from the window are yellow. She looks at my desk and places a finger down, swiping across from the wood. She brings her finger to her tongue and licks it–rolling her eyes back at her head at the image of me on her desk. It’s getting worse day by day whenever she sees me by the halls of Ruther College, she wants to bite me. To simply take me that no one else could. Mother Natasha takes a few steps to my bed and simply admires my slumbered body, smiling to herself and whispering: How beautiful you are, my little lamb. How effortlessly pretty you are.

She takes out her hand and ran her knuckles against my soft cheek, afraid enough that she’ll wake me out of my slumber. Relief left her body when I didn’t stir awake and continued her actions. Mother Natasha has always admired me, especially whenever the teachers would talk about me to her. They would say how well disciplined I am and how much they love my writings, saying that some of my essays could be poetry. She admires that very deeply and takes it in by heart. Before she could do further action, she goes to my desk and starts opening drawers quietly. Something catches her eyes, it’s underwear that has never been washed.

“Perhaps this is yours, little lamb,” she murmurs to herself while touching the cloth of my old juices, running her thumb against it. She brings it to her nose and smells it, almost making a euphoric sound out of it. She’s insane, utterly and completely insane to me. “How beautiful you are, how much you make me crazy.”

Mother Natasha shoves the sheer pink panties inside of her pockets and maneuvers toward me once more, looking down at my body. She takes the ridge of the blanket and moves it down slowly, her eyes staring at my face to see if there are any reactions. None. So she continued until the blanket was at my feet. I was still asleep, deeply in fact. My eyes were so shut that I didn’t even know she was already behind me, her hands remained untouched from my hips. It was as if she was afraid to even hold my arms, to smell my neck. Forgive me, Father, she thought to herself and takes a good amount of smell of my hair. Strawberries. She began to be obsessed with me at this moment and thought about numerous acts that she could do to my body.

I was awoken with a strong pair of hands on my mouth, making me scream from the top of my lungs. Above me, there was a familiar sight and I will never forget this day when I found out that it was Mother Natasha who was on top of me. I was bewildered, scared, and distraught. But scarier if that made sense. I tried pushing her off with my hands fighting against her, but she was unbelievably strong. Was this happening? Am I dreaming? I was infatuated with her and wanted her to notice me, but never like this.

“Shh, baby, please,” her voice sounded like a beg, her eyes are now kind but I could see much evil that was inside her green eyes. “Please stop, quiet down. Shh, it’s okay. I won’t hurt you. I just want a little taste from you, okay sweetheart? Just a little taste…”

Once she put her hand away, I wanted to scream. But her lips were attached to mine and I simply almost passed out because of it. Is this what it feels like to be kissed by your priestess? Her lips were so soft, so plump. My eyes went from terror to closing them, almost giving in to how well she pressed her lips on mine. My hands went immediately on her chest and pushed her as hard as I could, but her hands were caught on my wrists and her eyes are no longer kind. Her eyes were in pure anger.

“Stay down,” she demanded, hovering over my small body as I tried fighting against her. Tears are starting to form in my eyes, but she didn’t care. She needed to let it all out. “Baby, you’re breaking a poor old woman’s heart. Please stay still. I need to take you, I want you so much.”

I wanted to be freed from her arms, away from her lips. I didn’t want it, I told myself not to want it. It was a sin, an awful sin especially when it comes from another woman. Would’ve it been better if she was a man? Hell, that’s even worse. If I do admit that I like it, I might as well be as sinful as she was. Her hands were absolutely everywhere, she was holding my hips with a grip–making me think there would be a mark as well as her kisses on my neck. She was desperate. So so desperate for me. My face was pressed against the soft pillow as she assaulted my helpless body, smiling faintly to herself when I was only wearing a pink tank top along with white cotton panties.

“How beautiful you are, my little angel…” she whispers to my ears and hooks her fingers to my underwear. My eyes bulged out and I was quick to say something before she could even pull them down.

“I’m not experienced, I don’t–can you please stop what you’re doing to me, Mother?”

She clicks her tongue and juts her lower lip as if feeling bad for me. I started to whimper when she shakes her head a “no”. Meaning, that she doesn’t want to stop. She was about to hurt me and I’m going to like the hell out of it.

“Jus’ be a good girl for me,” Mother Natasha mumbled while kissing the corner of my lips sloppily, trying to pull away from her mouth but she makes a threatening voice: “Stop moving or I will hurt you.”

I quivered from the voice that she erupted, I trembled vigorously when she put her hand on my right breast–her mouth near my ear as she shushes me down, threatening me some more. I wanted her to stop, I wanted her to leave. Because knowing myself, I could lose control once she doesn’t stop. I was inexperienced, I don’t know how to touch a woman or even a man. My lips are no longer a virgin, they have been manipulated by her lips instead of a precious one. But maybe, she is the precious one. Maybe, I was just stubborn to realize that.

“Forgive me, Father,” I whispered to myself while her lips were biting on my neck–hissing myself with a loud whimper and immediately covering my mouth once more. From the corner of my eye, I could see her smirking as she whispers hotly on my face: “There’s no Father here, my little girl. It’s just me, Mother. I will take good care of my precious baby.”

She brings down my panties with a grunt, her other hand still on my mouth as she throws the discarded undergarment onto the ground. Mother Natasha quietly gasps to herself as she sees my unshaven core, her mouth-watering from the sight. I could feel more tears trickling down from my eyes as she touches my cunt, knowing how dry it was.

“I’m going to get you so wet, little lamb… You shall see the ecstasy from the Lord. This is his gift, bringing me to you, kitty.”

With those nicknames, it made me wet. Those words are so foreign in my ears like I’ve never heard of them before. And I never did, so the way her sultry voice speaks to me makes me want her to touch my sensitive parts until I was eaten by her. How much I wanted her and how endlessly I denied it. I continued to cry and so on, letting her dominate my poor body while she was smiling at how much has been revealed to her.

“Recite the whole Hail Mary for me,” she quickly says with a domineering voice, turning me until my back is pressed against the mattress. I looked at her and pulled my tank top upwards with effort. “Detka, stop fighting it. Eventually, your virginity shall be mine. We were meant to be this way, accept it.”

I couldn’t. I thought this was supposed to be different, I thought that she’ll only be my priestess and nothing more than that. But I was so driven by her stamina and her harsh kisses that I’m making myself give in, I must give in to not disappoint her. So I did. She smiled widely once I took off my tank top, throwing it across the room and I was fully naked beneath her. I covered my chest with my arms and shyly said, “I think we’ve had enough, Mother. I–I think we should stop.”

“There’s no stopping here,” she harshly whispers and kisses my lower lip; biting it even, which made me let out a tiny whimper. “Give yourself to me, little lamb. I’ll make sure you’ll be filled with so much love from me, I promise.”

She pushed my legs wide and gasped quietly once she saw the full view of my vagina, I could see her hungry eyes far from here. It’s a sight that I’ll never forget, that I’ll imagine once I go to sleep every night. Her mouth lands on my stomach and makes swirling kisses with her tongue, whispering biblical words that I cannot comprehend due to the fact that I’m a mess. Tears are coming out like a river, as well as my whimpers of mercy. She gives open-mouth heated kisses on my pelvis and finally, her mouth was on my cunt. I arched my back in response, my hand went flying to her hair to grip it; she didn’t mind. To her head, she loved it.

“Please,” I begged and took a deep breath, releasing the tension inside of me. “You have to stop, Mother. I–I can’t do this with you, this is wrong.”

She shakes her head in disagreement with her eyebrows scrunched together, but her eyes are still glued to my clitoris. She whispers with a deeper voice: “This is never wrong for the both of us, my child. It’s meant to be.”

Her tongue squirmed all over my folds as I covered my mouth with my mouth, moaning when her lips were attached to my clitoris. She sucks on it, making a sipping sound while her hands are roaming around my stomach to calm me down. Her mouth was rough, as well as her tongue. Especially her tongue. It’s like she knows what she’s doing with it, and I don’t even understand the techniques that she’s releasing from within her. Mother Natasha continued to eat me from down there as I prayed to the Lord for my sins; quietly.

“You taste divine, my angel…” she praises, her eyes closed as she licks and licks my departed folds, the tip of her tongue prodding against my cunt. “So fucking good, this pussy is so beautiful… Want you to shave it for me.”

I still had my hand gripping her hair tightly and let her assault my cunt with her mouth and her tongue that would draw me from my orgasm. She still had her chapel outfit on, which kind of made my body feel hot. I could still see the clerical collar around her neck, as well as her cross necklace that was made out of wood. But none the less, I was in true heaven while she ate me out like a starved animal.

“I’m so–Lord, Forgive me,” I begged, and I pleaded. My chest starts to heave deeper as my pants become more ragged. “Stop, please stop! It’s too much–I can’t take it…”

“You taste so fucking good,” she groaned against my cunt, admiring my clenching hole. “Look at that, you are nothing but my child. I’m cleansing you away from your sins, I’m the one who listens to them. Don’t be a dumb baby.”

I let out a whining moan at the sound of her voice and how she says them with so much sexual power within her body. I began to whine more once I felt two fingers dipping inside of my vagina, and I immediately lifted myself away.

“No, please. Anything but that. I’m saving myself for the Lord,” I whimpered in pleading but she never wavered. She just kept her arms around my hips as her fingers rubbed my clenching hole. I said with a louder voice, “I said stop, Mother! You’re going to hurt me with your fingers…”

“No, no, baby…” she coos, smiling at me gently while still rubbing smoothly against my hole. She could see how terrified I was, could see how pure I was. And she was grown enough to know that she was taking advantage of me. Should I let her? If I was going, to be honest in the vein of the Lord, yes I wanted her to take my virginity. “Don’t be scared, my child. I’m here to take care of you, remember?”

She thrust two fingers inside my womb without warning, making me scream from my hand. It felt like something broke inside of me, like a river flowing out of my vagina. And to my thoughts, it was my juices. She loved the way I screamed, the way my body squirmed to get away from her. But really, I just wanted more. I needed more even though it stings, it hurts.

“That’s it,” she kisses my clitoris again while pulling out slowly to just pump in again, with more force this time. She could see the way my hips arched and with that, she pushes my lower stomach down with a growl. “Be a good angel, little girl. You’re giving yourself to me, what a saint. Beautiful, just like that… You’re so tight.”

She completely lost her temptation over me, she was a whole new person. And either way, she didn’t care. She wanted me as much as I wanted her–now that I have figured that out. She curls her fingers inside of me with a vigorous moan, latching her mouth once again on my clit while flicking that blud. I start praying once again, asking for forgiveness. Telling to God how much I’ve disobeyed him, it was a sin to commit an affair with a woman0–especially a priestess. I can’t help myself, I’ve fully grown to the feeling of her inside of me. I wanted it, even though on the outside I didn’t.

“Stop,” I whined while I still had my eyes closed, trying to get away from her hungry mouth. But her arms were so strong that you’d think twice if she’s a woman. Maybe she’s just a very strong person. “Please stop, I can’t take it! I’m sorry, forgive me, Father… For I have sinned. Oh god, please–I’m feeling so–”

“You’re loosening up,” she chastises, pulling herself up to smother her wet lips against mine. Our teeth clad together and made a clink, which hurt a bit. But I was so lost from the pain and pleasure that she was giving me, that I couldn’t help but let out a desperate moan. She smiles against my wet lips, almost tasting me. “I broke you in, huh? I love your pretty little body so much…”

She gropes my breasts while thrusting inside of me hard, her fingers curling to hit my special spot. My eyes were shut completely as my mouth gaped open, giving her access to kiss me. I could feel her dark redhead locks against my sweaty skin as she pumps her fingers, feeling my walls not as tight anymore. She loved the feeling of her taking my virginity, the one where she gets to taste a girl first. And god, I have made her crazy. Utterly insane.

I moved my head away from her lips and held onto the headboard steadily, almost coming from an orgasm that I’d never had before. She still has that smile on her face, it was as if she had won some trophy. And then I realized I was that trophy, I was her prize. I could feel the cross dangling onto my face as she whispers harshly, “Good little girls like you make me feel alive, lamb. You have no idea how attracted I am to you, how obsessed I am whenever you pass by. I know your little stares, baby. I’m not dumb enough to not see them.”

Immediately, I was embarrassed. But that feeling was at the corner since there are multiple emotions that I’m going through in just one night. I wanted to hate her, to never see her again. She was a saint that I always praised, but a demonic human being at night. Though, I love her. I love the way she manipulates my body, how she could control it–knowing what she wants. I was just some little girl in her eyes and felt innocent. Maybe those were her type, good little innocent girls like me. Except that, I was at the right age. It would’ve been an awful turn if I was a bit younger.

Our kiss was like an unforbidden fruit, like how Eve finds a beautiful apple from the snake. She was Lucifer, I was Eve. She knew how to manipulate me into some kind of sick action that I really loved, and I hate myself for it. I loathe thinking that this was not destiny because it felt like it did.

“I have so much desire for you,” her breathing becomes hard and I don’t know how to respond to her desperation. Her eyes are closed now, but I felt her forehead against mine as she gropes my right breast with a tight grip. “Forgive me, my child. I just couldn’t help myself any longer… I had to take you.”

Come for me, angel. Come around my fingers.

Those words repeat in my head as her mouth latched now on my nipple, sucking it while still rubbing my clitoris with her thumb–her fingers still inside of me. I felt disgusted. Yet, alive. My cunt was now abused with her power and I wasn’t ashamed of it, but I could still feel my tears falling down from my eyes endlessly, it was as if I am truly ashamed of what is going on. Eventually, I came on her fingers and she had her mouth on me to muffle my screams. She knew what she was doing, she damn knew. I was so lost with the feeling, the mixture of pain and pleasure. My body trembles from her fingers inside of me as my body sweats like crazy.

“That’s it,” she whimpers, kissing my lips harder with her rough mouth. “That’s it, come on… You’re so good to me. You’re such a good little schoolgirl, huh?”

I nodded relentlessly and continued to come around her fingers. Once I am done, she pulls out slowly and brings her lips to her mouth–sucking my come with her eyes closed. I watched the way she lathers her other all over her fingers as if she was starved. And truly, I was too. I panted loudly and laid my head back onto the pillows, sobbing after our sinful encounter.

Her eyes soften and touch my cheek with her knuckles, whispering: “You did good, my child. You did very well. I hope to see you again next week. Will I see you again?”

Why was she acting desperate? She knows she has more power over me, why is she giving me the control to see her? Mother Natasha has the willpower to control me, to make me feel like a bad person. It all felt different, too different. But I gave her a slight nod and tuck myself away from her, still whimpering from the sex that we made. I hear her say: “I made love to you, my child. Don’t act like you don’t like it. You came around my fingers, I hope you get to do that with my cock too someday.”

Someday? And what does she mean by that? Was there something else that I did not know? I felt scared now but wanted her to hold me close. Eventually, I felt the bed dip and watched her as she fixed herself, mumbling a few words that I could barely hear. She turns over her shoulder and gives one last smile before she leaves my room, closing the door quietly.

I cried during that night, feeling ashamed of what I’ve felt or thought. I hate to admit that I loved our sex, I loved the way she took me. But it felt so sinful that I could feel my body as a dirty thing; a dirty creature. I never want to show up in her chapel again, I never want to see those eyes.

But I do, so badly that it aches me.

taglist: @blckwidowsbf @olicity-boo @nickalpatel @sayah13​ @inluvwithfictionalwomen​ @daddynatasha​ @natnutkuy​ @mrs-johansson​ @ageofolsen​ @easybxy​ @natasharomanoffswifeyyy​ @ayyy-lety​ @wandsgurl​ @rt--link​ @pancakefan7529 @korekiyoss​ @natash7456574657646645 @riveravalonsage​ 

[nothorses]

Why do people say "oppression doesn't add up or cancel out like Pokemon types" but then a post later say whiteness cancels out oppression and black Indigenous fat queer trans disabled women are the Most Oppressed (but conveniently never add that living in the US or a developed country, or going to college or Internet access at all are privileges, bc then their fave queer/AA studies academics wouldn't be the Most Oppressed, and therefore not be immune to criticism...). Like I'm def a little bitter but also I genuinely don't see what component I'm not seeing.

tbh I think the real answer is that memorable slogans and sayings are effective reminders, and sometimes even effective communicators within a small, established group with deeply shared ideology, but not really effective communicators anywhere outside of that.

people know that "oppression olympics" and "treating oppression like pokemon types" is Wrong and Bad, between the phrasing itself (negative/derogatory), and the context it's used in (Something People We Disagree With Do). but they don't always understand what those phrases actually refer to, or why they're being used. because they're used as a shorthand for larger ideas so frequently, it can be difficult to gain any understanding of them directly, because Everyone Knows What That Means Now and it no longer bears explanation.

sometimes the people they're learning the phrases from also don't understand; it's not uncommon that a phrase like this gains some popularity and good favor in a larger culture, and then people find ways to use it that help them court that favor and persuade others to their "side". it's also not uncommon for people to just use those phrases to mean "Something People We Disagree With Do", with no deeper understanding whatsoever.

the other answer to this, imo, is that people cognitive dissonace their way out of reckoning with their beliefs all the time.

I think the version I most often see is "oppression isn't pokemon types", but they view all oppression through one lens (cisheterosexism, racism, misogyny, ableism); all of the connections between axes of oppression, and all of the ways they enforce one another, are filtered through this one lens. so we get takes like "[oppression] is the One True Oppression, the Oppression which all others exist only to reinforce".

(It doesn't help that a lot of academics don't bother clarifying that's not true in writings that could very easily be interpreted that way by someone who isn't already familiar with the ongoing conversation.)

anyway im stepping off the soapbox now. I hate this shit so much. I feel like I understand (some of) why it happens, but that really doesn't make it drive me any less apeshit.

[cardicoven]

hi!! could you share any of your experiences interacting with persephone? or how has it felt to communicate with her? or even just fun anecdotes. ive given her an offering and im so happy to worship her... but god theres so little info or people talking about her!!!

Hey! So thanks for the lovely question, its great to hear that your reaching out to Persephone and are looking into worshipping her. I've been working with Persephone for around 3 years, giving weekly (often daily) offering and have maintained an altar space for her throughout that time. I say this not to boast or seem all knowing on the topic but to give some small context on my practice with her. Like many others my practice and worship of Persephone varies with the seasons, I feel her most strongly in Spring and Summer. During this time when light her candle I feel her presence, almost in that way when a Parent/Mentor/Guardian looks in your direction and you feel their eyes on you. When I leave offering during these months, I often experience feedback sometimes emotional, rarely I'll hear an affirmation, 'Thank you' or 'how thoughtful' kinda thing. When I call for her assistance in ritual I feel her behind me, sometimes guiding my hand, or I'll smell/taste something she advises for the ritual, only for the feeling to pass when I lay my hands on the herb/oil/item suggested. When it comes to divination she a dedicated card in my Tarot the 10 of Pentacles (which in my deck is the Pomegranate 10 of Crops, I use the Bottanical Deck link) and in my experience she's always happy to make it appear when she has something to say during Divination. In Autumn and Winter my experiences with her is very different, she feels distant, less patient, she's in the Underworld and has stuff to do. I don't feel her when I light my candles or leave small offerings. Only when I Invoke her and ask for her help in ritual do I feel her presence, its powerful, not stern per se but business esc, she's there to help and her time is not to be wasted. During this time I only invoke her when I really need her, most often in death work, or partially important banishings/protections and I always have a sizable offering at this time. That's not to say Persephone is not comforting or compassionate towards me in the colder months, her attention is elsewhere, and her responsibilities are with the dead.

That's all little heavy so here's a fun Anecdote. A few Years ago, myself and some witchy friends had a Party, there was plenty of drinking and debauchery (we were celebrating a friends bad break up). During a lull in the evening we pulled some cards and did some Tarot, nothing serious just good fun freaking out a few non-witchy friends, nevertheless Persephone had a word or two to share on the breakup, and while I don't remember much of it, it consisted of pointing out the Guys flaws and highlighting my friends strengths. After we put the cards away my friend asked how she should thank Persephone for her insight, I said leave her a wee offering, pour a shot out for her outside. My friend did so and said the following 'Thank for your wisdom Lady Pomegranate', before going back inside and passing out. I guess it's the thought that's counts.

Just gonna finish this off with a small list of recommended Reading since Anon is just starting out, and hopefully it might be useful. I'll link to Goodreads, but you should be able to find copies of these online somewhere if you try to. o Persephone's Pathway by Jennifer Heather: link : a wonderful exploration of Persephone from a modern pagan perspective but not without flaw. (my review) o Greek Religion by Walter Burkert: link : Currently making my way through this, it's academic and a heavy read but so far enlightening. o Old Stones, New Temples by Drew Campbell: link : an older book about Hellenic reconstructionism, reading it atm, so far its heavy but good. o Underworld Gods in Ancient Greek Religion by Ellie Mackin Roberts: link : On my reading list, 'This volume presents a case for how and why people in archaic and classical Greece worshipped Underworld gods.' o Hellenic Polytheism: Household Worship by LABRYS: link : I haven't got around to this yet but it's comes highly recommended. Hope this helps, and thanks again for the ask.

[emotionallychargedtowel]

Desert Hearts rewatch notes

Desert Hearts (1985) is one of my favorite movies, but as with most of my favorites, I've gone quite a while without seeing it at times. I put it on the other day for the first time in years and took some screenshots in the hope that I might get some folks on here to give it a try that haven't, or at least bring back some memories for those who’ve seen it before. Then, when I sat down to post the images, I found I had more to say than I realized.

This was my first time watching this movie since I got into the whole BL/QL genre and I was curious to see if it would seem any different to me after a period of being more immersed in queer stories than usual. Mostly it swept me up into its own world, something this film is really good at. But I did find myself thinking at times about how aspects of it mapped onto QL tropes and more general romance tropes. I also couldn't help but see some parallels to the actual lived experiences of myself and people I know.

Queer romance tropes in Desert Hearts

Three tropes stood out at me that I've run into in the QL world, some of which I've seen in hetero romance settings as well.

Fish out of water - Vivian goes from her life as an academic in New York City to staying at a ranch outside Reno in pursuit of a "quick" divorce. (Having to spend six weeks in a strange place in order to get a divorce was "quick" by 1959 standards.) Helen Shaver, who played Vivian, points out in a featurette included with the Criterion version of the movie that Vivian has been living a very cerebral life, living inside her own head while cutting herself off from her body from the neck down. This radical change of scenery is exactly what she needs to be able to open up to something different.

There’s a similar dynamic at play in hetero fish-out-of-water romances. But I find this trope a lot more interesting in a queer context. Queer identities have a more complex relationship to difference. Among other things, characters who seem to be at home in the environment of the story often turn out to be alienated from it due to others’ perceptions of their sexuality.

Age gap (with the younger person pursuing) - Cay, who is ten years Vivian's junior, is definitely the pursuer here. This isn't a specifically queer trope per se, but it can manifest in some specific ways in queer love stories.

LGBTQ+ identity can put people on unusual timelines in their lives. (This is an idea I first ran into in a book by Jack Halberstam in undergrad.) Sometimes this means being in a more "youthful" mode later in life than cishet people. Other times it means being a particular kind of late bloomer. And so on. So with life stages not conforming to typical expectations, what does it mean to love someone you have a significant age difference with?

In the case of Vivian and Cay, Vivian may be older, but Cay is poised to initiate her into practices and feelings that are pretty familiar for Cay and totally, mind-blowingly new to Vivian. This creates a kind of role reversal. At the same time, Cay has never felt this way about a partner before, so in many ways, their relationship is causing her to have some new and intense experiences as well.

The thing where a character figures out their sexuality for the first time because their feelings toward a love interest act as a catalyst - This is certainly a trope that comes up in stories about queer romance, but it's more debatable whether it's a queer trope in the sense of a trope that is used by and resonates with queer people. I guess I'd say the theme comes up in different ways when a story is very geared toward the "straight gaze" and when it's more authentically queer. With the "straight gaze" version you get things like "gay for you." With more authentic versions, well, I don't think I've noticed many commonalities there. But I will always defend the use of this trope when it's done well in a way that centers queer experience, if only because falling for a specific person is exactly what forced me to come to terms with my own sexuality.

Side note: Speaking of coming to terms with my sexuality, it really is an indication of how deeply in denial I was about my bisexuality in college that seeing this movie for a class didn't help me figure it out. I was deeply affected by it and fixated on it for weeks after seeing it, but it didn't get through the thick shell of obliviousness I had built up around myself.

A connection to personal experience

There are quite a few ways that Desert Hearts resonates with my own experience but one really stood out to me this time around. [Spoilers ahead.] When Cay goes to see Vivian at the hotel where she’s staying after she leaves the ranch, she goes for a last-ditch, Hail Mary move—she takes off her clothes and climbs into Vivian’s bed. At first Vivian tells her to leave, but then she softens a bit, clearly interested but conflicted. Then this moment happens.

I related to this so much. When I fell in love with a someone who was (at that time) presenting as a woman and it started to look like I might actually have a chance, I had so much anxiety about whether and how I could be intimate with my crush and whether I’d be able to “perform” decently. It turns out, as we learned when we compared notes sometime later, we had each had the same worry and we’d both bought an instructional book about lesbian sex (I think it may even have been the exact same book!).

I think part of my anxiety back then stemmed from the prospect of starting from scratch with a new set of practices and skills after being acclimated to sex with men. It made me feel like I was off balance. But when I actually did get close to my crush, another, much more pleasant side to my inexperience came up. It turned out that not having a familiar script for what to do made me much more present and gave me a sense of freedom. I remember thinking that it was like going from traveling down the same old route to exploring a new place that we had to write our own maps for. And that was pretty exhilarating.

Soon after that relationship happened, I read Zami: A New Spelling of My Name by Audre Lorde. There was a passage where Lorde described something very similar from her own life. In this passage, she’s reflecting after her first sexual encounter with a woman after having a similar set of anxieties.

So this was what I had been so afraid of not doing properly. How ridiculous and far away those fears seemed now, as if loving were some task outside of myself, rather than simply reaching out and letting my own desire guide me. It was all so simple.

She’s so amazing at evoking these feelings, isn’t she?

I can’t think of any other places I’ve seen this type of experience discussed besides these two. (I’m pretty sure others exist, but the fact that I haven’t come across them suggests there aren’t very many.) There are plenty of stories out there about hetero sex performance anxiety and its eventual resolution, but I think the queer version of this kind of learning has some big inherent differences that go way beyond the genders of partners being different. So it’s really nice to see it come up here, and be handled in such a sweet way.

In case you’re wondering, once Vivian is able to “let her own desire guide her,” in Lorde’s words, she also finds that her fears were misplaced. The resulting love scene is beautifully executed even by current standards. It’s even more remarkable to see it in a film that was released in 1985. It’s equally remarkable that this sex scene was shown in rather explicit detail.

about, by, and/or for?

I'm also thinking about this movie in terms of the for/by/about queers typology that @wen-kexing-apologist came up with a while back. In my estimation, Desert Hearts belongs right in the center of WKA's Venn diagram. It's about queers, of course. I'd also place it in the "by queers" category. The director, Donna Deitch, who also co-wrote the screenplay, is an out lesbian. It's not clear whether the other co-screenwriter was queer. Her personal life was mysterious enough that it seems like a definite possibility. And the movie is based (somewhat loosely) on a novel by Jane Rule, who was also an out lesbian and whose work as a writer was very focused on lesbian characters.

I'd also consider this movie to be "for queers." It was marketed to a wider audience, of course. But as I watched some of the bonus material and looked at writing about the movie, I saw a lot of evidence that Deitch made the film for her community and they embraced it.

Shaver had a really lovely story in the featurette I watched about this. I forget the exact nature of it, but she described how she attended some kind of event with Deitch and Charbonneau where the audience was full of queer women who gave them an incredibly long standing ovation that she found very moving and helped her see how impactful the film had been.

I’m also sure Deitch had queer viewers in mind (at least in part) when she set out to fill a glaring gap in Sapphic representation. In an interview with AfterEllen, Deitch said, “My goal was to make a lesbian love story that did not end in a bisexual love triangle or a suicide. Because that’s all that had been made at the time I set out to make Desert Hearts.” (Note: I’m not linking due to transphobia concerns regarding that site but folks should be able to find it easily if they look.)

In summary…

If you haven’t seen Desert Hearts yet I really can’t recommend it highly enough.

(And yes, that’s Denise Crosby from Star Trek: The Next Generation sitting beside Jeffrey Tambor.)

[historical-fashion-polls]

Hey, I love this blog! Such a fun idea, it was an instant follow from me. I was wondering, do you know where the fashion plates come from? If so, I would find it interesting if you added the country/region to the post.

hello my dear! 💕

thank you for your super sweet words! ☺️ I'm so glad you're enjoying the blog! 🥰🥰

and thank you for your fantastic question! my answer is long, so I apologize in advance, but (un)fortunately, I have that Cannot Shut Up About Special Interest Autism™️ 😅, so here we go! (below the cut)

it's honestly a pretty mixed bag with knowing where things come from versus not knowing. some of the plates do come from digitized archives of particular publications that have publication info (including city of publication), but since by and large fashion plates fall under what I – as a visual culture historian – consider ephemera, they are, well, ephemeral, meaning that they often come down to us with less context than we might like

I will also say that even those that do come with publication info/location may very well have been distributed outside the city/state/region/country where they originated. for example, for much of the era of the "golden age" of fashion plates, Paris was The Spot for fashion, and so you get publications called things like "les modes de paris" (the fashions of paris) that are distributed not just in Paris and France, but also internationally so that fashion-conscious folks could see what was happening in the "fashion capital"

I guess all this to say that at this point it's not going to be super feasible for me to include location information for the plates, partially because that information isn't always available, and also because when folks submit fashion images to the blog (huge thanks to all those who have done this by the way – I so appreciate it and I love looking at what y'all send in!! ☺️☺️) I don't always have a way of checking sources, and I would hate to have that be prohibitive to people who want to send in images but might not have or be able to find that info

I will also admit that as a result of Certain Conditions of the Mind™️ by which I am afflicted, I would feel the need to go back in and provide that info for every plate I've posted so far, which feels very daunting. and again, that's totally on me – and I freely admit that – but that's just how my funky little brain works lmao 😅

I will end these unnecessarily long ramblings by saying a big HOWEVER, if there's ever a specific plate that you'd like a publication location for, I can do my best to try and find that for you! ☺️☺️ there are also some fantastic blogs like @/chic-a-gigot that include more detailed publication info with the fashion plates they post. I'm also happy to point you in the direction of some digitized archives and collections if you're after more specific info for research/academic purposes 🥰🥰

sorry this got so long, but thank you so very much again for your super kind words and for your great question! 💕💕 I'm sorry I don't have a more satisfying answer for you, but hopefully this makes at least some sense ☺️☺️ I hope you have a wonderful day!! 🥰💖

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: How To Master Public Speaking Anxiety & Communicate Like A Boss

Take It Slow: The key to seeming secure and displaying confidence when you speak is to slow down your speech. Anxiety makes your mind run a mile a minute and often translates into rushed, jumbled speech and an overall frazzled demeanor. Your mind and your speech often match up in terms of pace. So, when you’re making a conscious effort to stretch out your words and conversational cadence, you naturally have to slow down your thoughts and calm your mind, which helps you think more clearly and comes off as more engaging to your audience. You come off as more self-assured and, by taking your time, you’re subconsciously informing your audience that you're sharing something worthwhile. You know there’s no reason to rush when you have something valuable to say. 

Prepare Like You’re Writing An Essay: As someone who struggled with public speaking in my teens, I found that preparing my points like an essay outline was super helpful to organize my thoughts in a concise/logical way. In practice, the best way I’ve found to do this is to write my “thesis” or general argument/ takeaway down first and then create a list of all of the supporting details/facts/stories that I want to use to support this overarching point as they come to me. This is your “rough draft” for your speech. After, organize your points to create a logical flow that’s easy and engaging to follow. Study this before your public speaking arrangement – whether it’s a presentation for work/school or a speech at a conference or a dinner party. Knowing that you already know and have nearly everything you want to say outlined and prepared ahead of time allows the words to flow more easily if you get a bit nervous (don’t we all?). Combine it with the tip to take it slow, and watch your public speaking skills drastically improve. 

Create An Elevator Pitch: You can complete this exercise for professional, academic, or social purposes (e.g. a birthday, cocktail, or dinner party). Essentially, this practice is similar to the ‘essay’ format above, but in short form. Think of it as a mini "personal essay" if you will. While most of the components of this short monologue are highly versatile, how you craft your elevator pitch will depend on its use purpose. For every context, start with your name and share that you’re excited to be there. When it comes to professional settings, you can share your job title, industry, and why attending this event fits what excites you most about your job/career goals. You can use this same format for academic situations, just swap out the classes you’re taking/your major and how being in this room connects to your academic/career goals. In a social setting, share how you know the host (and sometimes others attending) and have a few “fun facts” about yourself ready to use depending on who you’re speaking to – they could be about what you do for work, your favorite hobbies/leisure activity, the last trip you took or book you read, or some knowledge about something related to the venue (the knowledge of a historic building if you’re attending a wedding or dinner party, for example). Being prepared is the easiest way to calm your mind, so you don’t have to worry about your words, and allows you to just worry about how you’re communicating what you’re trying to say. 

Demeanor Is Everything: At the end of the day, people care less about what you say and more about how you make them feel. So, remember to hold yourself in a confident, relaxed way - even if you’re worried about fumbling over your words at times or not always saying the perfect thing in a speech or as a response in a conversation (as long it’s appropriate, of course). Roll your shoulders back. Smile. Maintain good posture and eye contact. This physicality will make you subconsciously feel more confident, so your speech comes out more calmly and intelligently. 

When in doubt, smile and remember to take deep breaths. Everyone is thinking about how they’re presenting themselves, so just try your best to feel confident. This makes you appear more open and allows the other person (or people) to feel more comfortable.

If needed, here are some more tips on how to manage social anxiety, build self-esteem, and a playbook on how to always communicate with confident Femme Fatale energy.

You got this! x