#my friends know that i'm incredibly judgmental when i don't like something so i'm not ragging on the concept of being a hater here

[bogunicorn]

Being shady in public about people's custom characters in games unprovoked is and was Loser Shit. People post about their PCs because they're having fun. It's not, like, systemically harmful or anything to bag on bland or ugly OCs, nobody's identity is being attacked or anything, obviously, but something can be shitty loser behavior without being bigoted, you know? Becky making a white girl elf with pink hair and a weirdly modded face isn't harming anyone or anything, and if Becky is acting shitty and running her mouth about how much better her OC is than someone else's, her OC is not the thing causing that issue, her stinky attitude is.

Like, man, when people make custom characters, they're just vibing. It's not for you, and nobody's OC is "adding representation" or "taking representation away" in fandom. Your social obligations are how you treat other human beings, not in making custom characters for literally anybody's sake but your own. No other person in fandom "benefits" if I as a white person make a non-white OC and post pictures of them or if I romanced a relatively unpopular character, I didn't do anything with that. I also didn't do anything by making white characters or romancing a popular love interest character, either.

I am all here for harmlessly clowning, especially if it's clowning on some nonsense. But I think fandom also needs to examine why they're so overly invested in what kinds of PCs that strangers on the internet make in their video games, and why they feel the need to feed into some narrative about competition over, like, elves and dwarves and shit.

You're not ~sticking it to the man~ when you make a post that's just "if your OC is boring to me then she's ugly and you're delusional for thinking she's cool" unprompted, you're just acting like you're still in high school. Bitch about other people's ugly OCs in your cunty little group chat like a grownup. You never, ever have to like what other people have made, but "this style of OC is fucking hideous and tacky and I hate it" is, like, an Inside Voice kind of sentiment. Saying it in public where you know that the people you're talking about will see it makes you the one making people feel bad for no good reason.

[neat-crows]

So I've been re-watching dr who for the first time ever rn, with a friend who's never seen it before, so I'm seeing all these episodes for the first time since I was 13 and picking up on a LOT that I never noticed before, and holy shit the tenth doctor is SO WEIRD to Martha Jones, and nothing exemplifies that more than the sontaran stratagem/the poison sky.... like..... he is SO weird the whole way down.

When they first see each other again their introduction directly mirrors Jack and The Doctor's in Utopia

"Doctor" "martha Jones" laugh and hug

"doctor" "captain Jack" laugh and hug

And then! they have a normal interaction!!! WIN he asks how her family is and how she is, and they're smiling and genuinely seem like friends very happy to see each other!

And then.... donna drops the fiance bomb.

He turns with a look of.... almost anger? disbelief? and asks WHAT MAN?? Then martha explains who he is and the doctor....

he looks? upset? and then like, resigned? AND THEN martha admits that her fiance is kind of similar to the doctor, and then donna asks "Is he skinny?" and his reactions

is to make a face like "yeahh" AND START NODDING????? like he's taken Martha's admission to mean she's with a man that's just like him, and honestly seems a bit smug over it, and then when Martha says no-

he looks so taken off guard and betrayed ??????????? BRO we are less than 5 minutes in..............

He then proceeds to be tetchy with her, and to be fair this is mostly because of her involvement with unit, and his discomfort with how militaristic she's gotten - which I think comes both from anger at himself for how he's changed her, and also discomfort that she's no longer "his" Martha, she's changed, and he doesn't know her as well anymore.

he tells her off, he's snide and judgmental, he won't even look at her until she tells him to, and he's honestly bitchy - Until she explains herself, and tells him off for being so judgmental, i also think his line "oh so it's my fault" is very telling because..... it literally is? like yes, you put her in situations where she had to become harder and more used to violence......... and he KNOWS it. He's doing what he did all through series 3, which is feel guilty or bad and then take it out on Martha (that's for another post though) until she stands up for herself (get his ass!!) and then when she's finished she looks at him

determined, but eyes darting back and forth waiting for his reaction, on some small level hoping for his approval

and only THEN does he start to smile, and he tells her "that sounds more like Martha Jones." she's back to feeling like she's still his (to him, Martha is acting incredibly normal and platonic). The doctor has always had a weird possessiveness with Martha, going all the way back to their first episode where he hand picked her, and in this second of her looking for his approval, he feels that again, and he IMMEDIATELY started flirting again - please go watch the scene it boggles my mind how fast he switches.

I also want to be clear, Martha isn't flirting back, she's acting extremely normally. She's clearly taken the time away from him to get over, not only romantic feelings, but any anger as well. She seems to have come to terms with how she feels with everything that happened, and she loves and cares about him, but she's not naive to his faults - I also don't think she even picks up on him being weird to her in this scene. She's no longer in tune with his every mood swing, she's not here to fix him, or cater to his needs, and so she no longer notices these small moments from him.

AND THEN.... the clone.

He never flirts with the clone. The ONLY time, is the very first time they interact, before he's realized something is wrong.

he calls her over to come with him, and his face is honestly way too close to hers. bro is a menace. but then, maybe 2 minutes later, he immediately clocks that this is not Martha.

he realizes there has to be a spy and only has to consider for half a second before he turns and asks about her family, he's already realized she's acting a little off, and the second she answers he's 100% certain.

and he gets MAD. he tells her Donna went home because she's not like her, she's not "a soldier" clearly a shot at the sontarans, but also another subtle test, the real Martha wouldn't let that slide, and he wouldn't say that to the real Martha. He continues saying Avanti, instead of Allonse-y, which is interesting, because he already knows. He's not doing this to confirm his suspicions, he's doing this as retaliation. To confirm to himself he knows Martha better than this fake, he's toying with her. BUT. He doesn't go to save Martha.

The next episode, the doctor's daughter, he refuses to accept the label of soldier, but Jenny rightfully points out that he strategizes like one And this is one such moment. He knows Martha is a clone, he's mad and upset, he could go save her right away, but he doesn't. He doesn't because it serves him best to allow her to keep shutting down the nuclear launch.

It reminds me a lot of when Cassandra possessed Rose in New Earth, he played a long for a little bit, but that was just to figure out what was happening. He IMMEDIATELY tried to fix it, I just wonder if it was any other companion if he would have done this. If it was Donna would he have left her for so long? even if it was strategic? it's this weird conflict the doctor has now that he's very very protective and a bit possessive, but he also treats her like an equal on the battlefield, and it's a weird... trust? he has in her to take care of herself.

I kind of don't want to call it trust because that sounds too positive, but I don't know another way to phrase it, but it's a forced independence and self sufficiency.

but then, he finally goes to save her

He goes and cradles her face gently, and NOTABLY says "good, still alive" MEANING HE DIDN'T KNOW??? and still left her for that long...

but he holds her gently, and fully ignores the clone. He has his back to her, and then proceeds to taunt her. He tells her he clocked her right away because of the pupil size, thin hair, and he says she smells. but we know this isn't true.

Sure maybe those physical traits are true, but that's not how he figured it out, we saw how he did it, he clocked on because he knows Martha so well, but he can't admit that. He can't admit that he knows her just as much as she knows him, just like he couldn't tell Rose he loved her.

He is so deeply angry at this clone, he makes fun of her, he yells at her, he looks at her likes she's nothing

This is his face when he kills her. He doesn't talk to her, or even TRY to save her. And we know she is alive, she has memories, and her own thoughts and feelings, and the doctor kills her while gloating because of his immense anger for hurting Martha. An anger that is also guilt.

he does not speak to her like a person (which directly leads into his treatment of Jenny in the next ep).

Parallel that to how Martha treats her, they talk about their family and she even calls the clone Martha. She really is a doctor in a way ten tried and often failed at.

And then at the end, Donna asks Martha to come with them, and she says no, and that she's happy at home, but she's better for having traveled and come back.

And the doctor looks at her

With an obvious sadness, but also acceptance. He clearly wants her here, with him, but I think he's finally come to accept that that'll never happen, and he needs to let her go.

Edit: I Like their dynamic(mostly) This is not an anti tenmartha post Him being a freak is compelling

[fanficsformyfaves]

I Don't Wanna Live Forever Pt.2

Rhea Ripley x Fem Prostitute!Reader (Pt.1)

WARNING: ANGST, Depressive Episode, Harassment, Bar Fight, Violence, Confrontation, Confessions, Hurt to Comfort

PREFACE: Reader was Rhea's favorite girl to call on a Saturday night, but little did she know that the wrestler was falling harder and harder with each visit

A/N: Special Appearance by The Judgment Day!

Shed a couple tears over this, but it's cool

The radio silence was unbearable. It had been weeks and with each day that passed, I began to regret what I did more and more. If I'd truly done the right thing, why didn't it feel like it? Why did it feel like I'd just lost a part of myself losing her? I had only myself to blame, so it was unfair of me to be angry at her, but I was.

I was angry at the longing stares and the gentle caresses against my bare skin. I was angry at the inside jokes and little secrets that were shared beneath her sheets. I was angry at all the nights we spent in each others arms. All the things that got me in this mess in the first place, but most of all...I was angry at myself.

Angry that I was too much of a coward to tell her that her feelings were in fact reciprocated.

With where my head was at and how devasting everything was, I decided to completely resign from the service that was using me. In no world could I imagine continuing to be in other peoples beds, when all I wanted was to be in hers. Out of every low point I'd hit before, this was by far the worst one.

I could barely get out of bed without tears immediately streaming down my face. Days felt empty and nights felt suffocating like my body knew something was missing. Even simple tasks like eating and breathing had now become burdensome.

I didn't know whether or not I'd make it out of this one, but by some miracle, I was met with a chance at starting over.

An old friend of mine that used to work with me in the same service recently reached out upon hearing about my departure from one of the other girls. I found out, shortly after leaving, that she got a job at a bar closer to the city and that they were hiring new drink-runners. The pay was decent and I needed something to keep me busy, so of course, I said yes to being interviewed.

I sent in my resume, went in on Monday and the next morning, I got a call saying I was hired, which brings us to right now.

The night started of fine with me just serving the drinks and food, when I heard the bell signaling someone came in. It was a group of obnoxiously loud men that immediately had me and my friend rolling our eyes. I picked up some menus and reluctantly headed over to the table they chose.

"Welcome, what can I get started for you guys?", I say,

Placing down the laminated papers.

"No fucking way!", I heard one of them exclaim,

And when I turn to see who it was, my heart dropped. It was a guy that I previously serviced.

"Yes?", I asked,

Playing clueless.

"Oh, come on, don't tell me you don't recognize me...or the fun little night we had"

I could tell by the way he slurred his words that he was incredibly drunk. His group immediately began snickering and raking their eyes up and down my body.

"I'm sorry, sir. You must be thinking of someone else"

"Nah, I'd recognize those tits anywhere", he declared,

Causing 'oohs' to echo from the table.

I held my composure and took a deep breath through my nose.

"Excuse me, gentlemen", I said,

Walking away and heading back to the bar.

"What's up?", my friend asked,

Seeing the irritated expression on my face.

"Old clients at table 6"

"Ugh, again? Do they not have jobs? They're here every night"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, you haven't been scheduled past 8 yet, so you were lucky enough not to run into them", she explained,

"Well, I guess I'm shit outta luck now", I joked.

And as if the universe couldn't have had worse timing, another group walks in and the sinking feeling in my chest had now become a burning sting.

"Wait, isn't that-"

Before my friend could get her words out, I immediately hid in the kitchen. I hear her calling out to me as I left, but didn't bother turning back to look.

Out of any place on earth and out of any bar, she just had to show up at the one that I work at? This had to have been some sick joke. What was I meant to do now? It's not like I could just leave and risk getting in trouble on my second week.

I stayed still a few minutes to recollect myself and once I was successful, I take in one last deep breath, before heading back out.

"You've got this", my friend reassured,

Handing me four menus.

I made my way towards her table and the closer I got, the harder it became for the both of us to ignore the other's gaze.

"Welcome, what can I get started for you guys?", I say,

Putting on my best customer service voice.

"I'll take chicken tenders", the one with the mullet answered,

"We both want steaks, medium rare", the tallest added on,

As I jotted down their orders.

"Alright and...for you, miss?", I asked,

The hesitance in my voice giving my nerves away.

"Just some gin for now", she answered,

Avoiding eye contact.

As painful as it was, I decided against asking any further questions at the risk of making things any more uncomfortable.

"Those should be right out", I nod my head,

Walking off, but as I was headed towards the serving hatch to put the orders in, I felt a hand grab my wrist.

"What time do you get off?", the asshole from earlier questioned,

Causing me to rip my arm away.

"Excuse you", I scolded,

Going to turn away, when he grabbed me by the arm next. I could feel the panic start to set in and my eyes start to water.

"Get off, seriously", my words trembled,

"Oh, what? Does the slut think she's too good for m-", his sentence was cut short by a tissue holder hitting the back of his head,

Causing him to fall over.

"She said get off", Rhea warned through gritted teeth,

"Handle this, I'm taking her home", she ordered her friends,

They all turn to each other smirking, before sauntering over to the table full of the guy's friends. They all immediately took off, leaving him behind to fend for himself.

"Come on", she urged,

"My shift isn't over", I shakily muttered,

She sighed, taking out her wallet.

"Dom, make sure to let the manager knows what happened and that (Y/N) went home", she instructed,

Pulling out a couple hundreds, before dropping them on the table.

"You got it, mami", he said,

Picking up the guy and dragging him outside with the help of the other two men.

"Wait, what are they-"

"Doesn't matter. Come on", she throws an arm over my shoulder,

Leading me outside and helping me into her car. The last thing I saw before driving off was the three men completely pummeling the guy into a pulp. Not to say he didn't deserve it, but, I still couldn't help but feel uneasy.

The car ride wasn't much help either. Besides the quite hum that came from the engine and the passing cars, it was mostly silent. She must've noticed, as her hand gently gripped my knee in an attempt to calm me down.

"Are you hurt?", she finally spoke,

"My arm's sore", I answered hesitantly,

Causing her to let out a shaky exhale through her nose.

He did yank me pretty hard, so I wouldn't be surprised if I woke up to a handprint on me.

"We're almost at mine", she lets me know.

As if I didn't already recognize the street we were on. I mean I'd been down this road too many times not to.

"We're here"

She pulls into her driveway and gets out to open my door for me. She then leads me into the house, urging me to take a seat on the sofa.

"I'll get an icebag. Wait, here"

"It's fine-"

Before I could object, she had already left the living room.

The tension was so apparent, I felt it in my bones. She was cold and guarded, but I had no right to fault her for it. I was the one who ended things and now, I had to lay in the bed I made.

She returns with the ice and lifts my sleeve to press it against the bruise, causing me to wince at the ache.

"Who was that guy, anyways?", she questioned,

"An old client. I don't work there anymore though"

For the first time this whole evening, her eyes finally met mine.

"What?"

"I quit last month. I couldn't do it anymore", I admitted,

As her gaze softened.

"Why?"

"It's not important", I tried to brush off,

"(Y/N)"

"It doesn't matter-"

"(Y/N)", she called sternly,

Causing tears to prick at my eyes.

"Did someone hurt you?"

"No-"

"Then what?"

What was I meant to say? That I was the cause of my own hurting? That I left the only life I'd known because someone showed me that I deserved better than that? That that person was her?

"Then...what?", she pressed further.

With a single tear rolling down my cheek, I finally confessed.

"Because of you", my voice waivered.

Her eyes widened, as she slowly put the icepack down.

"Since the last time we spoke, I've been going through the worst time"

A tear rolled down my cheek and my entire body began to chill. Her brows met in a sadness that was too deep to describe.

“I thought I could get over it, but I couldn’t have been more wrong and it didn’t hit me till I left your house”

“Then why did you?”

“I…”

It was as if all the words were caught in my throat with no way out.

What was I meant to say? What could I say? Anything I thought of wouldn’t excuse the way I’d walked out on her. I would be lucky if she could’ve even look me in the eyes again, much less forgive me.

“I was a coward”

She shakes her head, averting her gaze down to her lap.

“So much so that it made me lose you”

I hear a sigh and I couldn’t decipher whether she was disappointed or annoyed.

“I should’ve stayed. I should’ve given this a fighting chance. It was unfair, cruel and undeserved. You were the first person to show me kindness and it scared me. I didn't know how to receive that kind of care and I know that isn't an excuse, but that was the reason and I can't tell you how sorry I am"

The silence was the most painful part. It sent knives straight through my chest and there was nothing I could do to alleviate that burn.

“I understand if you want me to leave. I deserve that”, I sobbed,

Picking at the lose thread on my uniform, when she takes my hand.

“I don’t want that”, she finally spoke,

"You leaving did hurt me and it was something that I thought I'd be angry for, but...I wasn't. I was sad. Sad because I thought you didn't care for me the way I cared for you. You were my favorite part of every single waking moment. Your laugh, your smile, the way you talk, the heart you have, I've never seen anything like it"

I felt every piece of me break with each word.

"This whole time, that's all I could think about. That you didn't feel the same", she continued,

Gathering her own tears now.

"Rhea", I muttered,

Taking her face into my hands.

"You don't understand how much I love you"

[paddockbunny]

Repeat Offender

Summary : Charles is recently single and quickly finds himself in a "friends with benefits" situation with none other than his ex-girlfriend's best friend.

Rating : 18+, Mature

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x Reader

Word Count : 7, 345

Trigger Warnings : 18+, Mature & Adult themes, Angsty, FWB situation, PinV sex, Unprotected sex, Oral (female receiving), slight choking, c*m talk & language

Authors Note : Firstly, I had around five or six requests for a newly single charles or rebounding charles so I've amalgamated them all into one. Thank you for the inspo to all of those who requested something to do with this. I'm trying out some first person stuff on this one so although it's labelled as "reader" YOU are in fact the author/reader if that makes sense. I also don't mention Charles' ex by name and that is very much on purpose as I keep my blog as IRL WAG free as possible so none of my stories will feature any of their names, hope you can all understand why. Anyway, this is LOOOOOONG so it has not been proofread yet.

You know when you wake up but your not fully awake yet, you’re like conscious but not alert? Well, that was exactly how I was feeling as the room was ever so slightly spinning and the faint memory of strawberry daiquiri's and vodka shots were beginning to flash across my eyes. So was the deafening sound of the music, the ache in the arches of my feet from stupid heels and the feeling of hands creeping around my waist pulling my ass against a firm crotch while dancing. Then as I slowly crept more and more into consciousness I felt the slight ache from my thighs kick in and the feeling my body had been through it.

Finally, after summoning up the energy to do it, I managed to open my eyes. They felt heavy and dense and I realised there was no way I had made it home because I had slept in my make-up - and regardless of whatever state I was in I would always manage to stumble into the bathroom to at least wipe most of the night out greasepaint off of my face so the fact it was still firmly in place meant the worst. As my vision was struggled to focus I wriggled around in a rather comfortable bed and attempted to pull myself up without a wave of nausea lash upon me. Exactly how much did I fucking drink last night? But then as eventually my eyes concentrated on something and a very loud groan reverberated from my throat. The familiar bright coloured art work that hung from the white wall across from the bottom of the bed was like a vicious, unwelcome enemy. I had studied it far too many times to count and each time it got worse and worse. It was like the eyes of T. J Eckleburg in The Great Gatsby, but instead of the judgment of an inanimate object upon American society, this horrendous painting was judging my piss poor decisions of the night prior which lead me to waking up in this damn bed, once again. And as my stomach lurched I had to force myself to make sure I was in the bed of the man whom the awful painting belonged to.

At an almost glacier pace my head began to turn. Crawling up the sheet clad outline of a pair of calves, knees and up to big, broad thighs and into the covered - yet barely - crotch. The outline of his cock almost visible through the white cotton that was practically failing to protect his modesty. His hips were next, then the outline of abs which yeah ok - I can admit it, I’ve traced with my tongue before so sue me. Then I couldn’t do it any longer. I was just drawing things out. I snapped my head immediately up to his and yup! It was Charles.

“Oh fuck!” I groaned loudly and with an eye roll I drew my hands over my face. Listen, you might be thinking “he’s fucking hot as hell, probably an incredible shag and I’d love to know how big his cock is” but, it’s all the other stuff that goes along with these nights of drunken yet passionate sex with Charles that makes me sick to my stomach each time I wake up here. You see Charles had so much awkward baggage that spilled over into my own life and I really went through several stages of self loathing when I left his apartment and had the embarrassing walk of shame home the next day. “Good morning to you too.” He scoffed loudly but by this point I knew he probably felt as guilt-ridden and dismayed as I felt.

Silence had momentarily befallen us. All I heard was the quick typing of his thumbs hitting his phone screen. It was almost annoying. That incessant tap, tappy tappy tappy, tap, tap as he typed whatever was in his head into a text or whatever he was doing. I couldn’t help it, I rolled my eyes and thought how likely it was that he was probably texting one of his friends telling them how the pair of us had hooked up AGAIN! Most likely he was asking for their advice on how to get me out of his bed. Not that he needed any because there was no way in hell I felt like staying. I wanted to get out of here as badly and he wanted to kick me out. Just as I moved to sit upright a bit more and try search for my stomach lurched and I had to take a few deep breaths not to feel the effects of last nights alcohol. Something which unfortunately Charles noticed and as he asked if I was suffering from a the dreaded hangover, sarcasm laced thick in his voice.

“Why does this always happen? Why do we do this?” I sighed while letting out a long, drawn out exhale. The question hung in the air and I could feel Charles’ eyes suddenly burrowing into the side of my head. I knew there were words teetering on the tip of his tongue and could practically hear his brain working out a response that sounded appropriate for me but thankfully, he remained in silence. There was no doubt he would have been regretting whatever things happened last night as much as I was and yet, he didn’t seem particularly consumed by guilt. He seemed rather carefree right now so scoff I closed my eyes in an attempt to piece the puzzle together remember what the fuck happened last night.

The music was far too loud but the fourth fruity cocktail I currently clasped in my hand made me rather immune and numb to it. I danced just like all the other girls out in the middle of the crowded dance floor. Hips swaying side to side in time with the rhythm. Hair swishing around without a care in the world. Feet aching in stupid stilettos. To have looked at me in that moment anyone would be forgiven for thinking I was a party girl. One of those glamorous girls always out on the town, partying, blowing cash (boys and snow* too probably) but really I hated going out. I hated the stress of finding something to wear, doing the whole routine of make-up and hair and then feeling like I was in the middle of a cattle market. At least the men in Monaco happened to be rich and therefore no girls spent a dime all night from all the free drinks that would get bought. And the fact that someone in my group always seemed to know someone else in another and that meant VIP was inevitable. And I mean come on, who wouldn’t want to be sat in VIP?! Which was funnily enough, where Amelie was pulling me in the direction of and then I sighed when I saw why.

Sat in a booth was none other than Charles and his gang of buddies that I really wish would have been anywhere else in the world tonight and not in this nightclub. As soon as he looked around and saw me heading toward him I swear he rolled his eyes.

“Fucking hello to you too Charles.” I thought, muttering under my breath while I and rolled my own eyes back at him sarcastically. And that was when my mind flashed back to the last time we saw each other. It had been at that shitty dinner where I actually felt sorry for him having to sit the whole night flashing googly eyes at his ex girlfriend hoping she would notice him even though the night before he had had his cock shoved down my throat, me! The one he spent the entire time ignoring. But the thing was, I knew one thing he didn’t and that was she was already moving on with someone who might have been too close too home for him to even comprehend. Yet, with his attitude I said nothing and allowed him to remain in purgatory. Sad thing was, she never even so much as glanced at him the whole meal. Then I remembered what happened after, once everyone had drank heavily and shared cars home. It hadn’t been the first time (nor the second, third or fourth and was actually more like the eleventh or twelfth) that Charles had put the moves on me and I stupidly succumbed to his seductions. But now as I reached the table the thought of his hands being between my thighs, his fingers caressing my desperate clit with the door to his apartment wide open behind us in an utterly voyeuristic display - one that I would never have pegged him as the type to enjoy - danced teasingly through my thoughts. He slid into the booth a little more and nodded in the direction of the now vacant faux leather seat beside him for me to sit in. He looked good tonight and for once that wasn’t the alcohol in my system talking. He seemed to be in good spirits and I figured he must have been celebrating a good race. It was neutral ground so I thought it was something I could talk to him about. When I went to open my mouth to do exactly so, my words were swallowed by his; “Have you seen her recently?” Your mouth parted slightly before closing. You had to bite your tongue before you said something to the effect of “fuck off” or “fuck you” and quickly shook your head to respond to him. Then loudly from across the table one of his friends shouted loudly “shots” and thankfully it distracted Charles from pushing the conversation toward her like he wanted.

Several shots were taken and yet another strong strawberry daiquiri was being drunk while having as everyone sat at the table has as much of a conversation as possible over the loud thumping music. I raised my voice as I leaned forward to answer one of the questions Charles’ friends had asked me. We had met before and yet he did that typical male thing of forgetting who I was and therefore I had to tell him all over again much to my slight annoyance and dismay. But as I was explaining what I did for a living, I stuttered when suddenly I felt the flesh of soft fingertips ghost up and down my bare naked thigh. The action almost made me brake my calm, collected exterior. He couldn’t be serious? We had barely spoken since I sat down nearly an hour ago and as his thumb stroked up and down the skin of my inner thigh I glanced at him. He wasn’t even paying attention, he was doing it just for the sake of it, because he could. And so without a single thought I decided it was time to go and dance again. I wanted to put distance between him and I because we would only end up doing what was by now becoming a habit and falling into bed together.

As I grabbed Amelie and pulled her back to dance with me, I could feel the familiar pulsating throb from between my thighs at the thought of Charles. I tried to push the thoughts of him out of my brain as I began dancing and yet, it was a pointless task as all I kept thinking about was how badly I needed him and how he melted all of my annoyed thoughts of him away with a simple touch of his damn hand. The worst part was, just as Amelie and I settled into moving our bodies one of Charles’ friends rudely pushed between us. I was just about to argue and tell him to get lost when I suddenly felt hands creep around my waist. I didn’t need to look to know who they belonged too and I realised the intrusion in between me and my dance partner had been orchestrated.

“Running away from me?” Charles purred against the side of my neck. Why did he do this? Every single time we saw each other he always got underneath my skin. I hated him for it but I felt powerless against him and his cocky seduction techniques. His hands gripped my waist tighter as he pulled me back so I was flush against him. Our hips moving side to side while he got all the friction of my ass grinding against his crotch. “We said the last time was the last time.” “No. You did.” His words were more direct than I would have expected them to be. Almost like he was annoyed at me for implying I was about to turn him down - as if I could if I wanted too, just having the teasing action of his clothed cock so close to where I wanted it would have had me making a public embarrassment of myself right here in a nightclub. And without warning he used those lingering hands to turn me around to face him. “Let me take you home.” “No, Charles. We cannot keep doing this.” The sheer fact that when I spoke to him he was looking at my mouth instead of in my eyes made me want to kick him in the shin for being so vexing. But right as I was trying to convince myself to stand my ground against him he cast his eyes across my body and fuck, the things it did to me when he looked at me like that. “Charles, we’re playing with fire….”

“So? We’ll both burn together.” He shrugged nonchalantly. And I suddenly realised how we were no longer dancing and simply standing staring at each other while everyone else around us continued. In a regular situation - when alcohol wasn’t coursing through my body clouding my judgment - I would have felt self conscious but right now all I could think about was the fact he wanted me so badly he was out here making bold declarations. For a second the fact his first words to me earlier were about his ex girlfriend entered into my mind and a fleeting crushing feeling passed through my soul. He just wanted me to release his tension, not because he ACTUALLY wanted me. I zoned out briefly as I thought of how bad I always felt the next day and considered if I was strong enough to do it again. But as I was contemplating his hand travelled up to my neck and he made me look at him and I was gone. I wanted him to make me feel good.

How he managed to get us both out of the nightclub so easily I had no idea. His hand was wrapped around my wrist guiding me past hordes of people and out toward an exit. It took all but two minutes until we were in the back of a car heading back to his. It seemed too swift to me, too well thought out and I realised that he was so arrogant because he knew I would say yes and probably pre-arranged the car to pick us up. In that second I knew I should have been so pissed off and angry that he would think I was that easy but I let it slip again because I knew I was using him as much as he was using me. I liked the momentary, fleeting high he gave me. I was like a drug taker, he was the drug, and I was willing to take the short hits when I could. So I was every bit as bad as he was. Charles normally didn’t behave to politely in the back of the cars we took as we went back to his. His hands would be roaming, following suit with his mouth. He always made sure to light the match inside of me before we even got to the safety of his apartment. The fact he could be caught out, someone could tell, seemed to always be the furthest thing from his mind and so tonight, it was different. He sat further away and kept his hands very much to himself. And when I couldn’t help but glance across the car toward him and watched as his jaw seemed to clench I swallowed while nerves buzzed through my brain.

As soon as we got to his apartment building Charles called for the elevator and I couldn’t help but feel the same attitude radiating from him. It was the same attitude he had in the car and I thought about turning on my heels and leaving immediately. I didn't even know how to read him. Which meant I was so caught in the thought of trying to work him out that I missed the ding of the lift stopping on the lobby and sliding open. It wasn’t until Charles practically purred my name and held his hand out for me from inside the elevator that I snapped back into reality due to the look that filled his eyes. You knew it all too well. It was self assured, cocky confidence. He knew I couldn’t turn him down, I couldn’t turn his cock down, I craved it and what he could do with it too much. And so when my high heel clad feet crossed the marble floor and passed the iron thread hold of the lift I felt the surge of excitement buzz throughout my body.

The pair of us rode the elevator is silence but my hand remained firmly gripped in Charles’ and his thumb was delicately running over the back of my knuckles. It would be almost fucking romantic if there was any smidgen of a “normal” relationship between us. Now that I had registered the buzz of excitement I also felt the more steady and familiar hit of anxiety that went with it. It was pre-sex anxiety - that realistically I had no reason to have, this wasn’t my first rodeo (certainly not with Charles) but I still had it anyway. The silence would have been deafening to anyone else but right now I was kind of thankful for it. I didn’t want to chat because if I did I would feel guilt and I really didn’t want to feel guilty about what my body craved and desired above all else. The short ride up to Charles’ apartment ended when the lift door slid open and he gently pulled me out behind him. Fuck, I wish I had drunk more. Alcohol would have banished the unfair apprehension I was feeling. I leaned against the wall while Charles opened the door with his key. The curve of his shoulders made my mouth water. The thought of kissing his thick, strong neck while hearing the sound of pleasurable moans escape him sent a pulsating ache through my core. He pushed open the door and held it there with his hand, waiting for me to enter his abode first, ahead of him. And I mustered up all the confidence I could manage to saunter past him and glide into the hallway. The millions he took home from his career driving in fast circles paid off. Charles home was beautiful but like always, I wasn’t here to appreciate it.

Charles hands on my bare arms reminded me of that. He pressed against me from behind and I could feel his semi hard cock already straining against his jeans and I tried desperately to hold it back but a gasp escaped passed my lips as he moved my hair to the side to expose my neck to him. Fuck. The feel of his lips as they pressed delicate tender kisses against my flesh had my mind whirling. I pushed back into him more, instinct completely taking over, and a low groan rolled out of his parted lips and sent tingles up and down my spine. It was dangerous to have allowed myself to think it but I gave in and thought about how it would feel to have been his - properly, as a girlfriend - for all but a few fleeting seconds.

When Charles hands moved from my arms to my waist and I wasted no time. The alcohol came rushing back to me and I turned to him at breakneck speed. My lips finding his immediately. As my hands slowly glided upon the skin of his neck holding him to me. When I let out a small moan it was the sign he needed to start pushing me backward till my back pressed against a cold wall and his tongue pushed into my mouth. He tasted like the liquor he had consumed and as his tongue ran teasingly across my bottom lip he followed it with his teeth and it brought another moan from me, like he knew it would. Charles’ hands left my waist and I felt them slip down to my legs. His fingers skimming the outside of my thighs. I knew he wanted to push my dress up. He was growing impatient and that became very obvious when he yanked me away from the wall and pulled me through his house to his bedroom. The familiar surroundings welcomed me like a sneaky comrade. The walls practically smirked as I was pulled in by Charles. I could become accustomed to these plush surroundings if he saw me as more than a just a hook-up but that was a fucking dumb idea.

My dress was off faster than I knew what was happening. It was around my ankles on the floor and Charles was already making fast work of removing his shirt. His eyes hungrily fixed on my bare chest. He was practically wolf like as his eyes remained on my skin the whole time. I would have blushed if I had been less confident. “Take them off.” It was the first time he spoke since we had left the club. “You heard me.” He flashed his eyes down toward the thin scrap of black lace material that could barely behold the name of underwear. As my eyes travelled down to where his hands were working on ridding himself of his jeans I realised I wasn’t ready to allow him to have all the fun. “No.” I stated. “Take them off me.” My stomach flipped and I watched as a smirk disappeared from his face as quick as it appeared.

“That’s how you want it huh?” He abandoned trying to remove his jeans and his hand suddenly went to my neck and held me firmly before he used it to push me backward on to the bed. My heart hastily quickened. It hammered against my rib cage so quickly it began to hurt. I looked up at him full of expectation but he wasted no time in hooking his fingers around the sides of the only material left on my body and roughly pulling them down my legs and off completely. I watched Charles as he took me in. His eyes casting over and lingering in all the important areas. I bit my bottom lip as my own eyes mimicked his and I took in his perfectly sculpted chest and then his defined muscular abs. The lines on his hips that were line a tempting signal down toward his now erect cock, standing to full attention. He watched me watching him and cockily laughed. “Go on.” He tilted his head and I knew exactly what he was referring too. He wanted head. He wanted me to blow him. And I would have, I would have blown him till my jaw ached and throat couldn’t take anymore, but I reminded him that he wasn’t getting full control.

Much to Charles surprise, I pulled my ankles up and put myself on full display for him. I played him at his own game. If he wanted me to go down on him he had to do it first. I held his gaze and so when he laughed again I wasn’t so sure he was as willing to be a giver as much as a taker, but within a few agonising moments he proved me wrong. Charles was down on his knees and instantly pulled your legs up so you could rest them on his shoulders. And although it was something of an embarrassing confession to make, all of the times we had had sex, Charles had never gone down on me. Not once. So now that his head was between my thighs, mouth so tantalisingly close, eyes locked on to mine, I held my breath in anticipation. Charles gently ran his fingers up and down my dampening folds. I swallowed the breath that was caught in my throat as Charles finally licked a slow, teasing stripe that followed the pattern of his fingers moments earlier. He repeated the action over and over again. Using it to torment me. My hands grabbed hold of the sheets, fingers entwined in the high thread count duvet, when Charles began to pay attention to my pulsating, throbbing clit. Small, short flutters were mixed in with strong kisses. And then a loud exhale left my lips as he pushed two of his fingers inside me.

“Char….” I couldn’t get his name out. My breathing was erratic and all I could think about was what his mouth was doing. As his tongue continued lapping at my clit, his fingers curled up inside of me and Charles immediately found and started massaging that magical spot that made me gasp. And he continued even when I shoved my hands through his hair and gripped on for dead life. My eyes squeezed tightly shut as I felt the first high of an orgasm fast approaching. Swear words were all I could manage. My mouth going between wide open to get as much air as I possibly could and tightly shut with my top teeth digging into my bottom lip practically drawing blood. I was almost so lost in the beginning of the wave of euphoric pleasure that I missed the moan Charles made as he felt my walls start to convulse around his fingers. Fuck. How and why did I not beg for him to do this to me sooner? He was far too good at it. It was borderline obscene how good he was at it. And totally criminal that he had never gone down on me before. Right as I felt every nerve in my body begin to be ignited with the high of a climax Charles removed his mouth and in its place used the fingers of his other hand to draw rapid circles against my clit. The motion made me loose complete control of my mind and his name burst free from my mouth as wave upon wave of ecstasy crashed upon me. The high was undeniable. It took hold of my body and I felt myself quivering as he slipped his fingers out of me, covered in the product of my orgasm.

“Look at me.” Charles voice came quietly but strongly and I did as he requested. I opened my eyes and looked down at where he still remained, between my thighs. He held my stare as he ran the fingers he had brought me to orgasm with back up and down my now dripping folds. A small tremor shuddered through my thighs as he did so. And then with my eyes trained straight on his he raised his fingers to his mouth and licked them. It took a second to register the feeling that I felt in that moment but as he raised to his feet and I saw his cock rock hard, with its purpling tip already leaking pre-cum, I knew it was one that filled me with unashamed excitement. “Turn over.” He demanded and I relinquished the control I had won earlier so easily. Not because he wanted me too but because I wanted too. There was nothing in the world I wanted more than for Charles to fucking rail me into oblivion. I turned and got on all fours on the bed. Ass facing him. It was a position I had come to realise was one of his favourites. Sure he liked watching my boobs bounce as I rode him cowgirl and sometimes if he was feeling slightly more tired he’d fuck missionary, but Doggy was his favourite (like most guys). The momentary lapse of concentration earned me a firm thwack of his hand against the round flesh of my ass. I yelped and lunged forward and I felt the enjoyment radiating off of him. I doubted she let him do that, I doubted she would have enjoyed it. I moaned and after I wiggled my hips around a little he did it again so that a more audible whimper left my mouth.

“Fuck me…” I knew it was what he wanted to hear so I gave it to him. “Please, Charles….” I added more good measure and sure enough, he pulled my hips back and immediately ran his leaking cock over my sensitive folds to collect the mixture of his spit and my juices.

As he lined up at my entrance and pushed the head of his cock inside of me, teasingly slowly, I pushed back for more. It was an action that I knew he would have enjoyed and he groaned as he gave me more of himself. His hand splayed on my lower back and forced me down into the mattress more so I arched for him and then he gave me all of himself. He bottomed out and the stretch from his girthy cock had me once again gasping and gripping the sheets. He stalled for a moment - savouring the feeling no doubt - before he began moving. Slow at first. A steady but slow rhythm that I needed, rather than wanted, to quickly increase. Charles moaned loudly and paused for a second only to surprise me completely. “Your pussy is so fucking perfect. You, are so fucking perfect.” I knew he didn’t mean it in THAT way - he didn’t like me like that, I knew that and he didn’t even need to verbalise it - but his praise made me feel good all the same. I wriggled my hips again to urge him to move and when he did his pace increased. It increased until I was a panting writhing mess. I loved how big he felt at this angle and how he would alternate between giving me quick, short spanks and pulling my hair. And honestly I truly had to focus so I didn’t cum just yet. His cock continually hitting my g-spot could have made me see stars but I didn’t want to give in yet. I wanted more of him so I urged him on my moaning his name over and over and over again through heavy sighs. His hand wrapped itself around my hair once again and this time he pulled me back so my back was flush against him.

“Say my name again.” His voice was lower than I had ever heard it before. Lower than I ever thought possible. The hand that had been wrapped around my long hair was now around my throat, holding my in place against his body as he continued thrusting up into me. I couldn’t focus on words. I just kept thinking about Charles’ lips being on my neck and feeling how fast my heart was going through the vein they lingered upon. His teeth grazed the flesh and his name whimpered across my lips a few times before he finally called me a “good girl” and I almost lost my mind between that and the angle his cock was at. He had to know how close I was. He had to feel how my pussy tightened around his cock and I was beginning to struggle to keep going. His teeth sunk into my shoulder and he groaned as I couldn’t stop the orgasm that came thrashing down upon me. I grabbed his arm so tightly my fingernails would leave marks upon his skin. My whole body convulsed as finally I let go and let the climax take hold of me. The high Charles had given me seemed to be otherworldly and stratospheric. It took me to another fucking planet and none more so than when he groaned, gripped my hips and held me down in place while he himself, found release. I could feel the pulse of his cock inside of me as his hot, milky cum poured out of him. The feeling was insurmountable. The twitch of him as he filled me up seemed the prolong my orgasm even longer and when the shakes that ravaged my body became too much, I couldn’t keep my knees from giving way and so finally fell forward against the bed again. All I could hear was Charles and I’s heavy, exhausted breathing.

As Charles settled down beside me on the bed he ran his hands up and down my back. It was a rather tender, sweet motion for someone who had just railed me into oblivion but I didn’t mind it. Suddenly as I found myself lying still - still recovering from those two incredible orgasms - I felt the alcohol from earlier catch up on me. The room seemed a bit spiny and I really didn’t want to throw up anywhere in Charles all white apartment. But then - right on queue - with his breathing still laboured Charles asked if I wanted anything and suggested a towel and a glass of water. Not to sound like a broken fucking record but this was new, he had never done this before. He had never really spoken after we had fucked so this was totally left field. I nodded and said both would be nice if he didn’t mind.

“Ok, be right back.” I listened to his words but stayed in the same position as I had earlier - mainly because I was scared of being sick and because now I was completely exhausted but also because I didn’t want Charles’ cum to leak out of me and go all over his extortionate sheets. I thought the action of him going to get me things would have been nice for a normal, regular girl (y’know, one he was dating) but seemed unusual for him to extend such gestures to me, his fuck buddy, his hook-up, his piece of ass. When he finally came back clutching an ice cold glass of water and a warmed damp towel for me to clean up with I expected him to hand me my dress as well. But my dress remained on the floor and he stared down at me while I drank from the glass. “Let me.” He motioned when I went for the towel. Charles took the glass from me and placed it on the floor before crouching down there himself. I was about to question him, ask him what he thought he was doing, when he lifted one of my legs and slowly parted them. My breathing all but stopped as he dabbed at my slightly red, a little bit tender pussy with the warm cloth. I let out an unsteady, unsure exhale of air as he watched his cum slowly seep out of me.

“Hmmm….” He purred “I should have told you my pull out game is weak.” He chuckled and in that singular moment he made me laugh. He sat back on his heels and laughed with me and all of the nervous energy in my body disappeared. All I could focus on was the sound of his laughter and how much I liked it and in a different life I would have wanted to hear it every single day for an eternity.

I rushed to try and find my dress, hoping that he hadn’t torn this one like last time. I wanted to spend the least amount of time naked in front of him as possible now snapshots of last night began coming back to me. Charles observed from his place in bed. Watching me as I sprinted around to get back into last nights clothes so I could leave. As the sunlight streamed in through his window it bathed us both in the cold harsh reality of the day and it was very much bringing a self loathing vibe along with it. Suddenly a wave of riotous nausea flashed upon me and my head felt like it belonged in a vice. Through clenched teeth I rubbed my forehead from the searing pain screaming throughout it

“Can I get you painkillers?” His voice had turned soft and was rather strange because it wasn’t what I was used too from him - or was that the narrative my own brain made up for me to believe he was a metaphorical bad guy? “Don’t do that, Charles. Don’t be nice to me.” “Why?” He acted so innocent and I knew he was putting on a front, there was no way he could be so stupid. “Because!” I practically shrieked, “I’m your ex-girlfriend’s best friend and we can’t stop fucking each other.” “I think you’ll probably be her ex-best friend if she finds out about us.” FUCK! He really didn’t need to hit me with the reality stick right now. The smugness was almost woven through his voice and I had to restrain myself from throttling him. But in reality the cold light of day made me feel angry and disappointed with myself, something I doubted he felt about this situation at all.

“That’s not going to happen.” I snap back at him. “Because there is no “us”, there never will be an “us.” Your voice lowered and you knew it sounded sadder than you intended. It didn’t stop Charles from continuing however. “Right…..” he rolled his eyes “until you’ve had too many strong cocktails and vodka shots and then you won’t be able to say no. Just like you always.” With his words lingering in the air I had to fight the urge to yell at him that I was never the instigator and he was the one who always came after me. I desperately wanted to fucking correct him and scream at him that he used me to forget about his ex, about Ferrari, about all the pressures of the life he leads and that it was HIM that sought ME out, not the other way around. But for some unknown reason, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t want to start an argument with him. I pulled on my dress hurriedly once I found it, no longer wanting to be so naked in front of him. All I wanted was to get the embarrassing walk of shame back to my apartment over already. I busied myself from the silence by looking for my shoes and I almost missed Charles getting out of bed and getting dressed.

“I’ll give you a ride home.” I heard him say as I pulled up the covers and found my black heel under them at the bottom of the bed. I now felt uncomfortable in his presence after the last words he spoke. Instinctively I told him; “It’s fine, I’ll call an Uber.” “I’m not suggesting. I’m telling.” He stated bluntly and this was new, this had never happened before. He was rarely awake when I slunk out the door of his apartment - because it was always his apartment or hotel room never mine - so this was completely foreign to me. “If you’re sure.” I half expected him to say of course he didn’t mean it, laugh, explain he was messing and to call that Uber immediately. But he just nodded and picked up my other heel from beside the door and held it out to me. I tried to avoid his eyes. I didn’t want him to see any emotion at at all behind mines so I took the shoe and shoved it on to distract myself.

We didn’t speak the whole ride to my apartment. The silence was only somewhat uncomfortable but for some strange reason things felt rather calm. Sitting in the passenger seat of Charles’ Ferrari - which I had never before sat in - felt somewhat surreal. I was hyper aware that the seat still practically bore another girls name. It still belonged to her and he would have her back without so much as blinking. I kept my eyes on the roads as Charles expertly drove the expensive luxury vehicle around them. Hoping the red lights would turn green as soon as we approached them.

“I do like you, y’know?” Came abruptly from Charles mouth when we turned onto my street, my apartment building in sight. I thought my ears were deceiving me so I broke my trance and glanced at him. “I know you probably think you’re just a rebound or….” He trailed off as he put the blinker on to pull over into the lane he could stop in to let me out. I could see the front door to my building and I had never seen a more welcome sight. “…but it’s not like that.”

I was desperate to ask what it was in fact like, what exactly he thought was going on but thankfully he brought the car to a stop and I could finally jump out and escape the awkwardness. There was this uneasy feeling in the car that hit me like a led balloon and right in the middle of my chest. I hated it. I wasn’t used to it, especially not with Charles. I was used to feeling annoyed, frustrated and fuck, disappointed by him. The first few times we fucked I’d have said I felt used but that went away because I enjoyed our trysts as much as he did. And besides I didn’t need validation from him. I didn’t need him to need me. But then right now, as I waited to get out of the car with my hand on the door handle, it hit me how badly the words he had just spoken were actually all the things that I craved and desired above all else and it was startling. Then Charles said my name so gently, totally unlike he had ever said it before, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. “I’d like to take you out sometime, properly. On a date.”

But before I knew what I was even doing I pulled the handle, pushed the door and started getting out of his car. He yelled my name so I would stop and for a second I did but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, to fall for him. “You know that can’t happen, Charles.” I managed to say in something struggling to be above a whisper “you don’t want me, you don’t even really like me, you’re still in love with her.”

The elevator ride up to my apartment felt like it took an eternity. The words he had spoken rang throughout my head as if a bomb had gone off and I was momentarily deaf. Fuck him. Fuck his bullshit and fuck how I fucking felt right now because of him. I was right for telling him that he was wrong and he still loved his stupid ex but it hurt because being with him always did. Being picked up and dropped all the time hurt. I wanted to be one of those girls who would have fallen for his words, whose stomach flipped when he told them he liked them, but I wasn’t and mines didn’t. I knew it was just about sex. I wasn’t his type. I wasn’t right for him. I’d never be his girl….and yet as the doors opened to my floor, I couldn’t wait till the next time I could fall asleep beside him and hate myself for it the next day.

*snow = cocaine

[outlanderfandomfollies]

MIK s2e2: MĀORI CULTURE: Sam recalls some poignant moments when he gets a Māori "moko"

After reading a post about a TV Line recap of MIK episode 202, I decided to watch this episode about Māori culture for myself. I was touched by the scenes where Sam and Graham each tell their stories in the process of getting a nonpermanent version of a "moko" (or tā moko), a deeply meaningful form of tattoo in the Māori culture.

Tā moko artist Hohua Mohi explains that someone who wants a moko will "sit down for a good hour" and start talking about some part of their life that is meaningful, like their family, where they came from, etc. As they are talking, the moko artist is drawing, and consequently, every moko is unique and very personal.

The Story Behind Sam's Moko

SAM: Well my dad left, when I was, uh, very young, three years old, so I didn't--I didn't know him at all. HOHUA: Yeah. SAM: I actually didn't know his name.

SAM: And uh, my mum brought me up with my elder brother in the south of Scotland. She's--she's been very, very strong my whole life. And she struggled, I think, to look after two young boys.

SAM: Um, and it probably wasn't until I was… mid-20s that I finally, uh, met my dad. And, actually, very recently, I got to see him just before he died, which was uh, incredible, just to learn about him and his life.

SAM: And, uh, we spent a few days together. I work a lot, and I'm very fortunate. But I always put it first. So I guess, uh, relationships are difficult.

Sam's Moko Explained and Revealed

HOHUA: So, if you look at it, it talks about your--your father. It talks about your dad and then your brother in here. This manaia here represents your mum. And so it's obviously facing upwards. SAM: Yeah. HOHUA: I've been giving you advice. SAM: Ah, so she's been giving me advice, mm.

HOHUA: And if you look at it, rather than just follow a single line, all of these colors, they branch off, they branch off, they branch off. SAM: Yeah, yeah. HOHUA: And it was-- They came from you talking about how you wanted-- ultimately, you know, you don't know whether or not you're gonna settle down there, but you- you want to go and see the world. SAM: Somewhere else, yeah, yeah. HOHUA: So that's what--that's what this will remind you of. You know? SAM: Different branches.

HOHUA: Yeah, but also, no matter which way you branch off, never forget where... [speaking native language] SAM: Wow. HOHUA: Hmm. SAM: My friend. [shakes hand] So beautiful. GRAHAM: That is really-- SAM: Thank you so much. GRAHAM: It's pretty. SAM: Isn't that awesome?

SAM: A strange experience as well. GRAHAM: A unique experience. SAM: Yeah, just also very personal. It felt like going to therapy a little bit. GRAHAM: Yeah. SAM: But, uh, very, very honored. GRAHAM: Yeah. Yeah. Really, thank you so much.

Being a therapist myself, it seemed to me that the process of getting a moko is very much a therapeutic experience. The person getting a moko focuses inwardly and shares important parts of their past that define who they are. The moko artist appears not to be judgmental and listens at a deep level. Then the artist presents the moko, which is a visual symbol of something very unique about the person. And they also give verbal feedback to the person about what they have understood to be the essence of their story.

Sounds like a "therapeutic" encounter to me!

[edited]

___________ NOTE: Images of Sam's moko were enhanced for clarity and to accentuate the colors. Thanks @thetruthwilloutsworld for making the TV Line Recap post. I'd never watched any episode of MIK before. I'm glad I watched this episode. I enjoyed learning about Māori culture, as well as finding out more about Sam's and Graham's personal backgrounds.

[hooked-on-elvis]

𝗜 𝗪𝗜𝗟𝗟 𝗡𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥-𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗪𝗔𝗧𝗖𝗛 "𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗛𝗔𝗕𝗜𝗧" 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗪𝗔𝗬... It's not really anything from our business but Elvis' personal life is very, very entertaining - plus, knowing those things fans can always choose to live vicariously through the King's enormous list of love affairs.

From The News Examiner by author Trina Young — whom I love, btw... she really does an incredible job researching on Elvis' life and career — watch the video above on Elvis' romances on set of Change Of Habit (1969). Below, an excerpt from a book mentioned there:

While on set, Elvis and Mary, during breaks would "lie on a big blanket out in sunshine of the park, surrounded by extras and other actors, making out like teenagers. I don't mean affectionate pecks on the lips either. I'm talking about arms wrapped around each other during lip-locks that lasted fifteen minutes or half an hour. No one else on the set paid any attention to this behavior." From reporter Ann Moses' memoir book, released in 2017, "MEOW! My Groovy Life with Tiger Beat's Teen Idols":

Can you even look at these pictures the same way now?

PERSONAL COMMENT: Man, Mary Tyler Moore AND Jane Elliot? Seriously? Elvis had no shame at all, if that is true. Well, he certainly didn't - just thinking about the fact that he was married and had a tiny little baby at the time - but which actor or musician does? Very few. I always see things like this from a perspective of real life... If people in real life cheat all the time then how could we expect that stunning people, with money and fame and all the temptations surrounding them 24/7, don't do it? I mean, it doesn't make things right but it's not something only Elvis and Mary did - and at least concerning E we all know his wife cheated on him too, at given point - so we can drop the judgmental comments on marital status here because that's old news.

What shocks me is the suspicion he was having a thing with two of his co-stars from the same movie. Okay, supposedly it wasn't at the exact same time - apparently Mary was "inaccessible", according to Jane Elliot, so Elvis and Mary didn't get along very well compared to his relationship with other actors that worked on COH, and for that we can suppose she and Jane weren't actually friends either. Trina supposes his romance with Mary was very short-lived... and then (or prior to him and Mary happening) him and Jane happened. At least E (supposedly) wasn't having a thing with two girls who were friends with each other, behind their backs and at the same time but still... co-workers! Surreal. To me this is shocking. I always believed Mary when she said she didn't have a thing with E... Jane I had my suspicious but it's still not confirmed as far as I know. But now that I learn Mary was (apparently) lying, from a reliable source, eye-witness, adding this to the rumors (some gossip from the director based on situational "proof") that E and Jane had an affair during the making of COH... this got even funnier (to be kind).

I personally believe Ann Moses when she shares many, many years later what she saw between E and Mary in 1969 - and based on pictures I also believe him and Jane had a thing going on at the same period. I'm not judging any of them here. Even if it was all true, we don't know the real situation (how that happened, why it happened, the mood between the actors…) Still, c'mon, isn't that weird to imagine that Jane might could've seen Elvis and Mary and afterwards (or at the same time, who knows?) she got together with him even so? In other situation, isn't that weird to imagine, on the worst case scenario, that E got together with Jane and then he moved on to Mary right on Jane's face? Now, they were all grown-ups, all of them knew what they were getting themselves into (hopefully). I'm just sharing my thoughts, not for a sec intending to create any kind of morality shame on those people. Just like everything about Elvis, his love life is something we have fun (?) speculating about. Anyhow, one thing is true... ELVIS AND MARY TYLER MOORE DID HAVE A THING GOING ON IN 1969.

Oh, and about Mary saying Elvis said he slept with all of his co-stars except one, meaning it was her? I've read somewhere that Marlyn Mason said the same thing. I guess she was really the only one. Okay, making out and "getting into bed with each other" are two different things but still... things point more to Marlyn being the one than Mary. Again, who knows?

[seriousbrat]

let sirius (and james) be mean

Obviously in SWM both James and Sirius are atrocious towards Snape but I think it's pretty revealing how mean they also are to their best friends, especially Peter:

And while I think James possibly grew out of his mean girl phase to some extent Sirius didn't, at least not fully. To be fair he's usually not outright rude unless he dislikes someone-- mostly, he's dismissive or impatient especially when someone says something he perceives as stupid, as well as being overall insensitive to the feelings of others.

In the prequel they're both fairly insensitive and rude to two terrified Muggles lol, I mean who cares and it's funny but there are examples of Sirius being something of a mean girl later on as an adult. obviously, the famous one:

and yeah you can defend this by saying he was stuck in grimmauld place and frustrated, bla bla bla, I do get it and I still love him and don't think it makes him a terrible person or godfather but objectively this is an incredibly mean thing to say to Harry.

Other somewhat minor instances that nevertheless paint a wide picture:

OotP (I'm leaving out his interactions with Kreacher bc those are self evident)

-------

-------

he's also kind of dismissive towards Harry's feelings at certain points. A good example of this is the stiff "one-armed hug" and gruff goodbye he gives him when they leave for Hogwarts after christmas, or this earlier conversation:

Also, how he talks about Regulus. obviously it's somewhat justified since Sirius believes him to have just been a Death Eater, but he specifically calls Regulus stupid rather than just saying he was a bad person. This is interesting because it can be inferred that Regulus was not stupid at all, given that he figured out the secret of the Horcruxes. imo Sirius was too dismissive of his brother to actually know who he really was.

(and bonus him being snippy with Harry)

GoF

like this is probably true but it's still rude lol, as is this from OotP which has definite mean girl vibes:

next:

so this on its own doesn't seem especially mean but it does come after Sirius has basically dismissed every single thing that Ron has said lol, even raising his hand at one point to shut him up. It's not the worst but imo does indicate his impatience with "stupidity" which we also see in SWM:

and James has this too:

imo this shared feeling of superiority and mutual delight in their own intelligence were big factors in his closeness with james.

ALL THIS TO SAY, Sirius was mean lol ESPECIALLY as a teen. my rude scorpio child. So I think when writing teen Sirius it's an important part of his characterisation (and James's) for him not only to be rude/disdainful to people he hates but also just generally. It's also why it's extra ridiculous that he's portrayed as dumb in fanon seeing as he's very often dismissive and judgmental to those he perceives as being of lesser intelligence.

And this isn't a criticism of Sirius at all, I love him and tbh his mean streak is one of the things that make him so fun to write for me. He's a beloved character and I understand the desire to paint him in a positive light, but he wasn't perfect. As others have said the friendship between the Marauders wasn't something idyllic and aspirational, it's a warning story to Harry. Furthermore, kindness towards Kreacher being something that helps them find the Horcrux is also a lesson for Harry.

Sirius's insensitivity to the feelings of others was what got him killed, his insensitivity and disdain for peter led in part to James and Lily's deaths too. it doesn't make him a terrible person, just a flawed one.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for using a poem I wrote for my ex-girlfriend to apply for a scholarship?

I'm pretty sure that I'm not TA here, we're still on good terms anyway and it's unlikely she'll ever even find out about this unless I outright tell her, but I'd like to know if I'm committing some grievous social faux pas here.

So. I (21F) met my ex-girlfriend, who we'll call Jolene (22F) online a couple years back. The specifics of how we met will make it immediately obvious to anyone who knows either of us that it's me writing the AITA post, so I'm going to leave those out, but we were friends for a while before she asked me out, and it's relevant that we became friends over writing. We hit it off pretty well for a while, to the point where I wrote a poem being incredibly gay for her despite not (then) being much of a poet at all.

And then I went to visit her in person. Y'see, she'd come to visit me in person the previous winter, and that went fine, barring the fact that I ended up being super overwhelmed by the end of the visit—suffice to say that I'm extremely asexual, and she's extremely not. This came to a head when I went to visit her, she constantly wanted to be hanging out and doing things, and I straight up could not handle that much social interaction with anyone for that long. It got to the point where I was straight up dreading being with her, so I took a step back, examined my feelings, and decided yeah, we'd probably be better off as friends or as queerplatonic partners or something nonromantic.

We're still on fairly good terms, I'd say? Though I still feel extremely awkward over the circumstances of said breakup, she can't change how she is and I can't change how I am, and she's really happy with her new girlfriend so. Hell yeah. We love to see it. (There's also the additional complication that I might be something approaching arospec, but. Y'know. Details.)

Fast forward to today, several months after our breakup. I'm applying for scholarships for my university. I happen to be going for an English major and one of the available scholarships involves submitting up to 5 poems of any length. I remember, abruptly, the poem I wrote for her, go looking in our DMs, and—yep, there it is. Still incredibly gay.

Between that and some haikus about wildlife (long story), that brings my count of poems up to four of the five total allowed. I haven't submitted the application yet, but I've only got four days left to, and I absolutely don't have to submit my extremely gay poem alongside the wildlife haikus, I'm looking at the application right now and it says up to 5 poems of any length, presumably implying that I can have anywhere from 1-5 poems in that document.

But... I really want to. I'm not romantically in love with Mabel anymore, and while our personalities don't mesh super well these days, I still care about her a lot and if this is some giant social faux pas I'm unaware of (I'm unaware of a lot of those, I've never gotten formally diagnosed with anything but I highly doubt I'm remotely neurotypical if that's relevant) and it feels kind of like a way of saluting the relationship that was good while it lasted?

Also, and possibly more relevantly to the scholarship thing, it's a halfway decent poem. Nothing award-winning, but I'll never get any scholarships if I don't try for them, y'know? ...And I kind of really need the scholarships, due to reasons best brought up in an entirely different AITA post involving my mom.

So. Uh. Yeah. I know what I'll be doing regardless, no way this gets a solid judgment before it's time to submit, but I do want to know if it's an AH move or not. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[bardic-inspirjaytion]

Why do you call your cat piss king? Is he really good at it or something?

hi anon!

we're gonna learn a bit about cat urinary systems and issues! it may be a bit TMI for the scope of the question but, given how few cat guardians know about this, I'm always looking for chances to educate since being informed can literally save a cat's life.

the main takeaway: if you notice that your cat cannot pee, HEAD TO THE EMERGENCY VET NOW, DO NOT PASS GO! full stop.

if they cannot pee, that is one of the few true emergencies in a healthy cat, and you NEED to treat it as such.

usually you'll see a blocked cat straining and vocalizing in the box, licking themselves, whining and highly reactive to being touched on the lower belly, and - of course - you won't see any proper urine in the box. there may be dribbles or blood, but no pee. this is a problem that escalates really fast, and can easily be lethal. do NOT fuck around with it.

what qualifies me to talk about this? it's exactly what happened to pekoe (peek for short) about three years ago.

proper Storytime and more detail below the cut.

see, the thing with cats is that their bladders are tiny and their kidneys are, uh, bad! so if they can't pee, not only is it incredibly painful, but the liquid and toxins building up in their system can do a LOT of organ damage in a VERY short amount of time. this can get very bad, very fast, and it is very easy for them to die from it if the issue can't be fixed easily and promptly.

usually, the vet will be able to get a catheter into the blocked cat to relieve the pressure, flush out their bladder if there's a physical blockage (ex, if they've made bladder crystals/stones, we gotta get those out of there!), and give them medication to prevent spasms and infection as they heal. a cat then needs to go on urinary-friendly food to prevent additional blockages for the rest of their lives, and some other lifestyle adjustments should be made to treat any underlying risk factors that the animal might have.

sometimes, however, that doesn't resolve the issue, and they block again. and if you're extra unlucky, they'll block AGAIN after that. and maybe again, for extra spice. if you're extra extra unlucky, this will all happen in the same week.

this is the situation that peek and i found ourselves in.

picture the urinary system of a cat as a funnel, with the external bits being the tip of the funnel. when you ultimately need to make a funnel bigger because it can't drain anymore, what do you do?

you remove the tip.

this is an operation called a perineal urethrostomy, or a PU for short. it's a last resort salvage procedure that essentially removes the external genitalia of a male cat to widen the exit of the urinary tract and prevent future blockages. it's a difficult and delicate operation with a very long recovery time. it was also the only option left to save peek's life.

real talk before this next bit: i will never judge pet guardians for impossible decisions made in good faith based on qualified medical advice, in the interest of trying to do what's best for their pets. flat up, i don't stand for that shit.

okay? cool, let's keep going.

a PU is definitely not a surgery that has any guarantees, it can be very painful, it needs a very skilled vet to do it, and it's both expensive and difficult to see an animal through it safely. it was also the one option we had left to save peek, who was very very VERY sick at that point. the vet told me that she was also willing to do euthanasia, if the PU was not right for us, with zero judgment - the little guy had been through a lot of pain and several surgeries already, and doing this operation would be asking a lot more from an animal that was already very weak, with no guarantees of success.

he was briefly stable so i took him home to think about it and sat with him overnight. hours in the darkened living room, with my fluffy best friend sleeping fitfully in my arms like a sick baby. in the morning when he woke up he gave me a little lick on the face, and then a headbutt with a weak but undeniably hungry little meow. he hadn't had an appetite in a week, but now he wanted breakfast. in that moment, i knew he was letting me know that he wasn't finished fighting yet, so i knew the right decision for me was to keep fighting for him.

i called the vet, and we went ahead with the surgery.

i'll spare you the rest of the grisly details - the procedure was a success, and i was lucky enough to be able to work remotely and nurse him through the recovery. it was long and difficult and stressful. it sucked! it was crazy making. i would break down weeping with relief every single time i saw a dirty litter box for WEEKS. if you're reading this and going through it yourself, please feel free to reach out to me any time, okay?

but we persevered. i took care of him, and he rallied like a goddamn king. and hey. anon. guess what?

that was almost three years ago. his life went fully back to normal after he healed. you wouldn't know that this had happened if you didn't already know, because that fluffy little king still pisses like a champion race horse.

so, that's the story of how pekoe became

THE PISS KING.

[evilpenguinrika]

Okay so I had another thought about Descendants Rise of Red

Under read more cuz it's gotten a tad long. Also spoilers.

Throughout the movie, I legit thought that Uliyana was a red herring with the whole horrible prank on Bridget that made her turn from a sweet girl into a tyrannical leader because of what Ella said about it when QoH was staging the coup.

Like I DON"T KNOW to me it felt like they were setting up Ella as the person who actually did the prank (maybe against her will or was just part of a group that decided to do it and she just stayed quiet and went along with it despite not vibing with the prank at all).

And then we got introduced to Uliyana and her group and like they very clearly obviously had her set up as the one responsible (even though I was still under the impression that she was still a red herring and it was actually Ella)

But no

It... It was Uliyana

I felt like the writers had such a perfect opportunity to dive just a little deeper into the complexities of high school drama and high school cliques and teenagers. Because yeah, teenagers can be so incredibly cruel and so incredibly mean. And like, I kinda also assumed it was like your typical dumb love triangle bs with Bridget Ella and Charming as well and maybe that's why Ella did the prank idk. Like the two girls are interested in him but it's also a little more apparent that Charming is interested in Bridget and maybe Ella got jealous. And with how horrible her home life is, she just wanted something for herself for once and had a horrible lapse in judgment in playing a mean prank on Bridget.

And like if you think about it, how horrifying is it to discover your one and only friend stabbed you in the back and humiliated you for selfish reasonings (or maybe other reasonings) and that's how she became the QoH, which could tie back into that song about how love ain't it or whatever it was called, like it would further emphasize just why QoH is the way that she is and why she finds the notion of love and trusting humans/humanity so asinine because she had something horrible happen to her, a trust and betrayal, that has since hardened her heart.

Idk if this made any sense I'm just word vomiting at this point

like IDK THEY HAD A PERFECT SET UP. ULIYANA WAS LIKE A CLEAR RED HERRING (kinda like first movie with snatching of the wand and ppl thought it was Mal but nope it was Jane. See? Red herring. Kinda. Probably.) like it was an obvious choice but then the reveal that it wasn't Uliyana would have been juicy

Oh, I also wished they had more of a clear consequence of time travelling at the end. Like I was holding my breath the entire time anticipating some sort of time-travel consequence

But

There was none

Which makes no sense because when you time travel and change the timeline, there's gonna be consequences. It's sort of an important story beat to have (one example I can think of right now is the first Life is Strange game with Max's time travelling powers and how the more she uses her powers, the more fuckery shit happens where you either watch your best friend die to save an entire town or sacrifice an entire town to save your best friend). I wish they gave us something, because then it would definitely help set us up for the next movie since apparently people are saying Rise of Red is supposed to be a two parter? Or maybe not have it so blatantly obvious but still have something there to let us know "oh, something ain't right" (like I get QoH having that drastic change is already like its own thing, but idk give us more. I want more.)

ANYWAYS again, idk, just word vomiting don't mind me

[leonsliga]

https://x.com/iMiaSanMia/status/1711361038514327611?s=20

there's just no way Leon condones abuse or excuses it cuz "friendship" right? he personally must have some reason to believe Boateng is innocent. There's just no way, Leon, who openly stands up, bravely, against everything wrong in the world, without hesitation, excuses Boateng's behaviour. there's no way. my morals and ethics feel triggered. cuz I don't see a reason yet, not based on his actions and what he's done for the world and the world of football, to stop liking him. idk. What do you think bri?

TW: brief mentions of abuse (i.e. context on the Boateng situation)

I had a feeling the press was gonna ask Leon for his take on the Boateng situation eventually, and truth be told, I'm left feeling a lot like how you described: confused, frustrated, and just all around off. I won't lie, I love Leon; I'm a huge fan of his, that's no secret, and I'm aware that that makes me incredibly biased. That said, his comments left a really bad taste in my mouth.

Ever since the Boateng trial (and even before that), I've found their friendship a really tough pill to swallow. After everything, I struggle to comprehend how he can just...ignore all of that? I mean, surely he's heard all the news surrounding the man. Surely he knows Boateng was convicted. Leon's many things, but he's not oblivious and he's not stupid. It's hard not to feel like he’s making himself out to be a hypocrite, considering everything he stands for and everything he positions himself so clearly against. Maybe he knows something we don't or holds beliefs behind the scenes that we don't know about...I don't know. But I've made a promise to myself in writing this blog that I wouldn't pretend to have the answers when I don't. And I won't pretend. I have no answers. I can speculate, but I have zero clue what was going on in Leon's head when he made these comments, no matter how much I may wish I did.

My morals and ethics feel triggered too, if I'm honest. It's hard for them not to. I feel hurt and I hate that I feel that way, considering he's a man I've never met. I just...I'm really struggling to wrap my head around the possibility that Leon Goretzka, the man who's always advocated strongly for women's rights, could still be friends with a man found guilty of assaulting his girlfriend. I want to believe he's better than that. I get that as human beings we can be prone to blind spots in our values and judgment, but this is a pretty glaring blind spot if it’s true…I think we can all agree. I'm trying my best to process this, but it's hard to process his comments when we don't know what he was thinking when he said them. Pretty much the only context we had going into this was that he and Boateng were close at some point. How close are they now? It's hard to tell, but these comments lead me to assume they're still, at the very least, cordial with one another. I guess it's good he stated that in the end, he respects the club's decision, and recognizes it was a decision they had to make, but it doesn't really do anything to soften the blow of anything he said prior to that.

To clarify, just because I'm a Leon-focused blog doesn't mean I agree with what Leon said. I wouldn't be happy if Boateng had rejoined the club. I think even considering allowing Boateng to play for the club as Bayern did, even though he was tried and found guilty, is morally reprehensible. I'm just struggling with Leon's statement a lot as a fan of his and I need to write out my thoughts to process things. He's been my comfort person for a long time now, and so I'm finding it really hard to define where I stand beyond fundamentally disagreeing with his comments (and possible support?) towards Boateng.

We play a dangerous game when we throw our support to footballers, I know that. In our unconditional appreciation of them, they can turn around and let us down. And I won't lie, I do feel let down. I'm sure I'm not the only one. I think it's more than ok to feel that way, just like I think it's ok that it'll take us time to process what happened and come to our own conclusions. We care about him, even if it is just a parasocial relationship, and that's not nothing. I can tell you that at the moment, I feel profoundly disappointed, no matter how hard I try to understand—the way we all try to understand when people we support let us down in some way. I want answers that I know I probably won't ever get.

So yeah. There's my very long-winded non-answer. I'm sorry...I wish I had more definitive thoughts on the matter, apart from the initial hurt and disappointment. But this is all I have for now. I’d love to hear what you guys think, but please be kind, ok?

[blysse-and-blunder]

in lieu of a commonplace book

saturday, jan 27, 2024

*brennan lee mulligan voice* heeeeeeeelllllllllllllloooooooOOOOOOOOO one and all and welcome back for another thrilling episode of...whatever this is. thank you for being here.

It's 2024! Say hi, intrepid heroes!

reading recently finished:

-orwell's roses by rebecca solnit (audio) - glad I listened, ultimately very gratifying - history, criticism, extremely lush garden-filled prose and love for growing things - nona the ninth by tamsyn muir - felt so much about [redacted] it made me cry. i can unblock ALL THE TAGS NOW - the blue sword by robin mckinley (audio) - catching up on old school fantasy continues -when the angels left the old country by sacha lamb (audio) - beautiful. not not in conversation with good omens but doing something different.

recently begun: -the ministry of the future by kim stanley robinson - can't decide if it's a scifi novel or a policy brief about ways to combat climate change- reading on my mom's recommendation -babel: an arcane history by r.f.kuang - withholding judgment, but i know you probably want me to hate it and so far i don't, really! to my own surprise -the shadow of the wind by carlos ruiz zafrón (audio) - spooky, post-modern but incredibly good at sounding like it is of the time it depicts. many thoughts on the audio book narrator's accent work, most favorable -one corpse too many by ellis peters. wild that i have only just begun reading the cadfael mysteries

listening last week was about discovering and putting on continuous loop the group trousdale on the recommendation of @m2pixie (!) and other trusted friends; the energy, the harmonies! they fill a girl group void i didn't realize i had, it feels like the best kind of throwback, like old chicks or something, some desperately needed bops. exhibit a: bad blood.

today my daylist introduced me to joy oladokun and i'm so glad it did. love her vibe, love this cover art. had to take a picture of my desk, the visuals were so satisfying.

watching the newest series of netflix's lupin!! so far i'm really, really enjoying where this season has been spending most of its time-- the new characters, the new heists, the new stakes. especially fun to watch with friends where we can all shout about the mrs doubtfire of it all, the betrayals, the misdirection, the 'he can't keep getting away with this!.' the original lupin series will always bring back memories of watching it in early lockdown; i'm glad that there's this now to think about and remember instead.

playing hollow knight hollow knight hollow kniiiiiiight. bought it a few months ago when it was on sale, after hanging out and watching @dimir-charmer stream for us a bit, but playing it yourself is a different game. i'm having a blast. it's becoming a problem. i'm having to be so so good and mature in how much i let myself just get suckered in to a full day spent in my little buggy maze adventures. the temptation to keep going until i've made a meaningful advancement of some kind (today: got the longer nail! last time: beat hornet! saved zote the mighty, got the baldur shell charm, and beat the gruz mother!) is very, very real. have also gotten around this by listening to lots of lo-fi hollow knight beats to relax and study to while being 'productive.'

(found this screenshot online, and holy extra health batman)

making pancakes. lots and lots of weekend pancakes. sent a bunch of mail since new year's, and have some new arts and crafts (charcoal pencils!! those little paper cone blender guys! better paper) to fuck around with next time i want to get ~artistic. watch this space.

working on teaching is so all-consuming. it's great, i love it. the course (maps class! if you see that tag, this is that) is going well, i think! first three lectures down. the students i've gotten to know i really like, the material has yet to get old (see one - do one - teach one is so real. i understand this class now, finally, in a way i don't think i did just being the TA, even after three times). it takes so much longer to just copy-paste-change color and font on slides than it should! i've regularly been getting four-five hours of sleep on monday nights before teaching on tuesdays, but it has meant that i don't have the brain space to be self-conscious while i'm 'on', i just. go. having fun selecting teaching 'fits, having (less) fun handling all the students who joined in the second or third week and need help with catching up, but it's not their fault there was a waiting list and lots of turnover.

(petrus roselli - portolan chart of the mediterranean, 1466)

non-teaching: - student letter of recommendation for dental school (DONE) - conference panel proposal (due 1/31) -submit revised conference paper for that prize (due 1/30) -send draft of grant application to A for her to be able to write a letter of recommendation (due IMMEDIATELY WHY ARE YOU ON TUMBLR) (you have until 2/15 to fix it but she needs the draft!) -chapter 3 edits (lmao) -read for that other course you're meant to be the TA for (oops) - give i. feedback on her thing (tonight) -RAship hours (c'mon these are actually paid work, please do them)

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

This is going to get personal, and emotional, so just scroll by if you don't wanna cringe yourself to death.

This may stem partly from the heat exhaustion I endured earlier while fighting with yard work, and also from exhaustion from grappling with my child starting school, and also also with general stress, and.

In short, I very well may be a little delirious. But I haven't said so in a while, and I just want you guys to know the following important information:

I love you all so fckin much.

All of you. Muties that interact regularly or just chill on the sidelines, creative anons in the ask box, lurkers who might be to shy to say anything (I usually fall into that category too so do not feel bad, I understand that people are scary which is why I remain as anonymous as possible myself). I love

Absolutely

All

Of

You.

Like. Every time I see an ask that starts with something like "I hope this is okay" or "If you don't want to answer you don't have to" or, GODS FORBID "Please ignore this if it's a problem," anything like that, I just. Wanna give you the biggest hug ever, and wrap you in a comfy blanket and give you all your favorite snacks and make sure you feel safe and comfortable here.

This blog is my own safe space. I'm the human equivalent of a mouse in reality. People scare tf out of me. If I could, I'd happily live in a remote cabin in the middle of the wilderness with a few pets and never have any further face-to-face interaction with other humans again, with the sole exception of my child and one of my nieces. I second guess every single word that comes out of my mouth, even around people I love and care about and would frankly die for. I just. Am not good at people-ing.

My identity here as an unknowable horror isn't just to be silly. I really have a lot of trouble identifying with anyone else, and I legitimately feel like an alien or a monster most of the time.

I second guess everything I post here, no matter how much I try not to. No matter how much I remind myself that it's not important what other people think, and that their opinions have no bearing at all on my day-to-day life.

So maybe it's a little hypocritical of me to say that none of you have any reason to worry about asking or commenting anything, when I spend ninety percent of my own time worrying about everything, including made-up problems that haven't even happened yet and likely never will.

But I really, really do not want you guys to ever worry, or ever feel like you have to apologize, or ever second-guess anything here.

If the world scares you as much as it scares me, and you need somewhere that you can be unapologetically yourself without any judgment, then you are both welcomed and encouraged to do just that here, while I try to do the same thing myself.

This stems a lot from my mom. I lost her when I was sixteen. She had a brain aneurysm and passed away very unexpectely. She picked me up from school, we had dinner together, and a few hours later she was gone. It's incredibly hard for me to talk about her, but I need to mention her here, because she was always my safe space.

She was the one who made me who I am. She had trouble identifying with other people. The few close friends she had were lifelong friends. She was a lot more fierce than I am, a lot more capable of standing up for herself, but she was always kind. Always understanding. She never judged anyone. She always considered others' feelings, others' backgrounds. She hated organized religion with a passion, but she never belittled anyone for their own personal beliefs. She never got to go to college like she wanted to, but she was the wisest person I've ever known. If I could give one reason why, it would be this:

She always treated everyone the same.

Age, religion, place of origin, skin color, likes, interests, it didn't matter. She treated everyone the same. With kindness, with respect, with humor, with love. Everyone. Always.

I'm not saying she had no flaws. She was a force to be reckoned with when she was angry. Her and my older brother had some fights that I'll never forget for sure. She broke down when her own mother died and lost a lot of hope for a while. I was thirteen at the time, and her mom, my Nana, was just as much a pillar of strength for me, and we leaned on each other to get through it.

I really never had any major fights with her that I can remember. I never felt like she was trying too hard to be cool as I got older, she was just naturally cool. I was never, ever ashamed of her. Me and my old best friends went to our first concert with her, and they still talk about how cool she was. How they felt more at ease talking to her about their problems than their own family.

Like I said, this was going to get personal.

But the point to all this, is I want to be there for all of you in the same way that she was there for me, for my brother, for my friends. I want all of you to feel at ease here, even if you don't feel at ease anywhere else. I want you to know that you can always be yourself here.

You can be unapologetically, shamelessly, proudly you.

The most important thing my mom ever taught me is that everyone deserves to have somewhere they feel safe and loved and wanted. I doubt she ever said it in those exact words, but she spent her entire life proving it to me.

So whatever your case, if you need somewhere to be yourself, then you will always be welcome here. You don't have to apologize for it. You don't have to feel bad about it. The only thing you should feel here is safety.

And love. Because I love you. All of you.

If you ever feel like no one else does, then at least rest assured that I do.

Even if we've never spoken, I still love you. Even if you've never felt like anyone loves you, I promise that I love you.

When I say I hate humanity, it's largely because there's such an overwhelming amount of hate among us. It's really the hate itself that I hate. But you, as an individual reading this, no matter how much or how little hate you have in you, I still love you.

Everyone deserves love, and if it's the only thing that I have to give, then I'm going to give it.

[blackjackkent]

Oh man, there's a lot here in the graveyard. Karlach's parents are buried here and she asked Hector if they could stop and say hi.

Of course Hector beelined for it. <3 This was an incredibly sweet little moment and as usual, her VA and facial animation are making me cry.

"Here lies Pluck and Caerlack Cliffgate. My parents. Hi mum. Hi dad."

"Sorry I haven't visited. I've been... away. But I'm back now! And I brought friends."

She and Hector exchanged a cute little glance here.

"I miss you so much. But I'm happy. And getting up to some really important shit."

"Maybe you can see for yourselves. I don't know."

"You're with me here, anyway. Taters."

Hector has just been listening to this and watching her with a gentle smile on his face. "Taters?" he asks softly, when she seems to have run out of words.

She laughs, just a little shakily. "Meant 'I love you' in the Cliffgate household. I can't even remember how it started anymore. Lost family lore."

(A/N: What an incredibly sweet, detailed little character note, holy shit.)

"There was a lot of silly nonsense in our house." Her gaze is distant, drifting through memories long gone. "My mates used to say we had our own personal language. I guess I'm the last remaining speaker." Her smile flickers slightly.

He reaches out and takes her hand, feeling his heart twist a little in his chest. For not the first time nor the last, he is struck by how brutally unfair her lot has been, to be pulled from a loving family and a life she was happy in, and instead thrust into the torment of the Hells with no possibility of escape. To have lost both her past and her future to the greed of Gortash and the cruelty of Zariel.

Deep at the back of his mind, so deep that he barely even acknowledges it himself - he is a little jealous, too, of the kindness and warmth and love she describes in her childhood, something that for all his contentment at the monastery, was never truly part of his life. But he is also deeply grateful that she had it - that it molded her into the kind woman that he loves, molded her so strongly that the Hells couldn't beat it out of her.

"Mum used to say there was no such thing as death," Karlach goes on thoughtfully. "That there was only change. Dad thought that was a load of woo. That gone meant gone, unless you'd struck a deal with one of the gods. Said he had better things to do in life than beg favors off immortals."

She draws a heavy breath, absently interlacing her fingers with his. "I'm not sure what I believe."

He is quiet for a few moments, thinking. He is, of course, trained in the dogma of the Selunites and could speak quite knowledgeably on the workings of the gods - at least such as it was taught to him - but he doesn't think she really wants a lecture on the City of Judgment and its uncertain outcomes right now.

She is thinking ahead to her own impending mortality. She wants comfort, something that is hopeful, and his voice giving it to her.

"Your mum was right," he says softly. "Our bodies become soil, water, air. We don't die, we just change..."

To his relief, he sees her expression relax slightly.

"Nice thought, isn't it?" she murmurs. "This grass could be my mum's hair. The air in my lungs might be my dad telling me 'taters.'" She smiles, leans her shoulder against his gently. "I like that."

------

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 I love Karlach so much, you guys.

The game didn't give me the opportunity, unfortunately, but Hector absolutely starts saying 'Taters' to her in place of 'I love you' sometimes. Not all the time, but just here and there, so she's not the last carrier of the tradition, and so she knows he's listening and will remember - both her and her parents.

Once again including the recording of this scene here because Karlach's VA and facial animations are really half of what make her scenes so affecting.

[unpopularwriter25]

I saw you had demon Slayer ship requests open and thought I'd ask for one. I hope it's not to much information and don't feel to rushed about finishing it.

Pronouns: They/Them or He/him

Sexuality: Demisexual/ Demiromantic (I need there to be a  deep connection before things like attraction can happen, think slow burn friends to lovers. I do have a preference of masculine people but it’s not exclusive. There are some feminine people I have been attracted to.)

Age:  22

Zodiac Sign: Aquarius/Pisces (I was born during the changing of signs and have traits of both)

MBTI: Infp

Personality: I’m a bit socially awkward at first mainly because I need to feel out how people respond to me as a Trans person. After I get to know people I’m very talkative, I will go on and on about things I have an interest in and it’s amplified if the people I’m talking to also like the topic. I do have ADHD so my interests change a lot, and very quickly. It’s honestly difficult for people to shut me up sometimes. That being said, I do have times when I feel like I'm being too much and will shut down. I go through periods of time where I stop talking as much and don’t really do anything because I think I’m being annoying and it’s difficult to get out of those slumps.

Likes/Hobbies: Reading, Writing, Watching anime, Playing video games, Drawing, listening to music. Specifics would be Reading: Fanfiction and the Maze Runner Series, Animes: JJK, MHA, Haikyuu, Blue Exorcist, and Tokyo Revengers, Video Games: World of Warcraft and The Legend of Zelda franchise, Music: classic country, early 2000’s emo, early 2000’s disney, classic rock

Dislikes: bugs, anything sticky, I'm not a fan of outdoor activities like hiking or sports, people who tell me how to do something that is supposed to be fun

Appearance: I’m 5’11, and I’d say most people would say I’m curvy. I’m trans masculine and try to dress as much like a guy as possible, this means jeans and button ups, basketball shorts and hoodies. Basically if I can wear my binder I’m dressed very professionally and if I can’t I’m dressed like a teenage boy who doesn't care what he looks like. I also have super short dyed hair, think 2010’s gaming youtuber, right now it's a faded bluish green with some purple but it’s normally blue or gray.

Thank you for the request!! I hope you enjoy!!

I ship you with Tanjiro Kamado!!

Tanjiro is known for his deep empathy and ability to understand and connect with others on an emotional level. His caring nature and desire to understand those around him align well with your need for a deep connection before attraction can develop.

Tanjiro is incredibly patient and understanding, which is essential for someone who is demisexual/demiromantic. He would respect your need for a slow-burn relationship and be supportive as you build a deep, meaningful bond.

As someone who is socially awkward at first and needs to gauge people’s responses, Tanjiro’s non-judgmental and accepting personality would make you feel comfortable and safe. He would never pressure you and would always be there to support you during your slumps.

Tanjiro’s resilience and positive attitude could help lift you up during times when you feel like you’re being too much or are in a slump. His unwavering support and encouragement would help you navigate through those periods.

Your relationship with Tanjiro would likely start as a friendship. You’d bond over shared experiences and interests, with Tanjiro being genuinely interested in your passions and hobbies. His curiosity and willingness to listen would make you feel valued and heard.

Given your INFP personality and Tanjiro’s empathetic nature, you would have deep, meaningful conversations. These discussions would help build a strong emotional foundation, crucial for a demiromantic connection.

Tanjiro would always respect your gender identity and presentation. Whether you’re dressed professionally or in a more casual, relaxed manner, he would see and appreciate you for who you are. His unwavering acceptance would provide a comforting presence in your life.

While you may not be a fan of outdoor activities like hiking, Tanjiro would respect your boundaries and find ways to be adventurous in environments where you feel comfortable. Whether it’s exploring a new book series, discovering new interests together, or finding cozy indoor activities, he’d ensure that you both have fun in ways that make you feel at ease.

[flameswallower]

A while back, in a friendship-ending argument, someone accused me of being persistently "contemptuous" towards him and others. It hurt me, because that's one thing I strongly try not to be unless somebody deserves it, and because I honestly don't feel contemptuous towards most other people most of the time, or believe that's something that really comes through in my manner. Still, in the moment I brushed it off as deflection-- this was an argument where, for once, I was the reasonable, rational person in a fairly clear-cut way, and I had good reason to express exasperation and disappointment with how the other guy was behaving and talking to me. But much later, during an argument with my partner, I asked if they agreed with my ex-friend that I'm a contemptuous person. And they said yes, that comes through very strongly when you get upset, you really judge other people.

So I thought about that, and I think what's happening is a combination of things. One is that deep down, yeah! I am a judgy person in certain ways, and because I normally suppress that and try incredibly hard not to be bitchy or catty or mean, basically ever, it comes out like water from a firehose when I lose control-- and the emotion gets everywhere, there's no discretion around, say, "it's justified to be contemptuous of so-and-so's veiled dog whistle transphobia, but it's really shitty to be contemptuous of someone for being able to control their mental illness less well than you can, or for choosing to live in conditions you deem 'gross'."

Another thing that's happening is, as implied by the second clause, I judge myself extremely harshly. I think that's not always immediately obvious these days because I tend to have a better sense of self-worth than I used to, and because I can get very defensive in the face of harsh criticism or criticism from people I care deeply about. But it's there-- the defensiveness is largely a reaction to it, an attempt to keep me from swinging hard back into "I'm the worst person in the whole world and I deserve to die immediately" thought patterns. One thing about judging yourself harshly, though, is it usually spills out on to other people at least a little bit. Even if consciously your feeling is "well, these rules only apply to ME, I'm the only one who ought to be PERFECT, I have totally different standards for others," that might not be true at all subconsciously. And it boils over, it breeds a sense of resentment towards people who are "allowed" to be flagrantly imperfect in ways you've denied yourself and who demand that other people make room for that imperfection and meet their needs instead of feeling ashamed and trying to erase/undo/hide their needs. The truth is, you have to stop being contemptuous or judgmental towards yourself before you can stop being that way towards others, and I never quite got the trick of it.

...In part because a third thing that's happening is, of course, that my idealized self-image is really bound up in being someone who doesn't judge other people except for actually very harmful/hateful stuff, is open-minded, is tolerant and accepting. I would say "is kind," but I'm not sure how many people think of me or have ever thought of me that way. Still, kindness is very much something I strive for. Yet ultimately, I think this is often more because I want to be a person I would consider beyond reproach, an admirable person, a person who can more or less unproblematically be called "good," than because of genuine compassion and care towards others. And knowing this about myself, how can I not judge myself for it? How can I not insist to myself that I should be a better person, with better motives? How can I let it go? It's one of the things I dislike most in others, in part because it's so dangerous-- I've seen all kinds of awful places caring more about the safety of your self-image as "a good/kind person" than about listening to and empathizing with others can lead.

...and also in part because a fourth thing that's happening is, I feel like other people are constantly, silently judging me, mostly in profoundly negative ways, All Of The Time. I feel like I have to be on the defense against that; it's a kind of dysfunctional hyper-vigilance. Often I find myself formulating counter-arguments in my head to nasty things someone might hypothetically say to and/or about me one day. This is hard to combat because it's simultaneously an insane, exaggeratedly fearful, and honestly pretty egotistical way to think about one's interactions with other people, and also something that's sort of based in reality. In some of the ways I was treated as a child and adolescent. In ways I regularly observe others talking and behaving online. In the fact that I regularly encounter casual hate speech directed at people similar to myself. In the fact that each year I will have a scattered handful of disproportionately upsetting interactions where others are mean to me on the basis of an honest mistake or a trait I can't help having or the way I decide to present myself to the world, or where people I care about jump to conclusions about me in a manner I find really unfair. When I'm in an argument or a loved one is criticizing me, it can feel like, Okay, I already knew you were contemptuous of me, barely tolerating me, I knew it all along, now I'll strike back.

How do I fix this problem with my heart? I don't know. Admitting it is probably the first step. I think a lot of other people also have this problem, and I think most never confront it in a completely honest way, because that's super hard and involves striking an almost impossible balance between being able to make a really harsh, potentially ego-destroying self-evaluation, and being able to have compassion for yourself, and forgive yourself, and be patient with yourself.