#not all women obviously but it is a phenomenon

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

That documentary American Nightmare is crazy. Like imagine being the victims of something like that and everyone from the media to police to the FBI are like, damn, that is crazy. So crazy it didn't happen. You're lying, you killed her--oh...She turned up alive...Uh...She's lying. Wait, uh...oops. Never mind. This other cop who actually bothered to do her job and talked to all the women other cops ignored caught the guy. Um...anyway you're both alive and not in jail so we're just gonna pretend this never happened. I mean it's not like we could have known; there was a movie where the lady set everything up and was lying! How can you expect us to have actually investigated what was reported to us?

At least that one reporter had a conscience. And he actually did forward the emails he got to the police, so, y'know, he at least was doing his job. It's funny how when something like this happens, the people who did the least, all things considered, are the ones to step up and be like, yeah, I fucked up, and the ones who made blunder after blunder from sheer laziness and their own tunnel vision are just like no comment, that didn't happen, and our internal investigation found no wrong-doing on the part of us.

[derpinette]

i am addicted to the black tar heroin known as fangirls

[maddy-ferguson]

thinking about this again

[etcnnante]

actually i have to talk about how vital yossarians sexuality is in catch 22 and how, despite how the hulu show is the best adaptation of the novel, still manages to almost completely ignore it in favor of the infidelity between yossarian and scheisskopf’s wife. which, is still a vital plot point, but to favor that almost completely over the relationship him and the chaplain share has me insaneeeee especially because of how prevalent homosexuality was among all branches of the U.S. military due to how young and inexperienced many of the drafted men (and women) were. like he CONSTANTLY calls orr a very handsome and attractive man, the most beautiful out of the entire battalion. it’s wild to me that it is never explored bc of geo.rge clo.oney’s homophobic ass

[dashiellqvverty]

queerbaiting isnt even real tbh

[sukunas-wife]

the Dadkuna series is great!!! Sukuna isn’t my main character that I like in jjk but this series has me SAT and WAITING for the next upload! I’ve always wondered though what momkuna and dadkuna’s relationship dynamic is. We get that sort of in how they met but what about when their relationship is established? I get the sense that obviously dadkuna would quite literally do anything for her but what exactly goes through his mind when he thinks about her?

Oh? Guess whose back 😎🤧

Me- I’m sickly too 🤭 but! The blog is picking up 🥺 and I’ve been working on this for a good time so here you go 🤍🤍🤍

(Indentions are thoughts, things he didn’t actively say out loud 🥺🤍)

Lord Ryomen Sukuna, though emotionally stunted and constipated, loves his wife. Would level cities and kill men easily if she didn’t have such a strong hold in him.

But he’s a misogynist at heart to an extent. He wants you at home with his kids being his cute little wife that he knows he can always come home to. It was your overwhelming passion for helping women who couldn’t bear children that convinced him he could let you live your life, as long as he knew he had people there to look over you when he couldn’t.

He appreciates the fact that when he’s tired, covered in blood that’s not his own, and carrying the exhaustion of his war ridden day, there you are rushing to him when he enters his temple. Disregarding your fine silk robes and the blood partly way on his body. The way you cling to him, always so happy and relieved to see him come home.

The first time he came home after being gone for so long, he remembers how you cried and held on to him, your anguished filled cries when you cried about how you thought he was never coming back, how you were scared he’d left you alone. He remembers how his hands found your waits holding you a bit away, another hand coming to cup your face, thumb wiping away your tears when he looked at you with tired eyes, “It would take the militia of this land's greatest sorcerers to even consider preventing my way back to your embrace.” Your teary eyes softened before you buried your face in his chest again hugging him and clinging to him.

He longed for that feeling of your embrace whenever he would leave you behind, he could deny it but on his way home to you, his heart ached and longed to feel your embrace and hear your praises of how he had returned. You cried no more because you were filled with that confidence he would always return.

——————

He’s a traditional man with his one form of values, not once did he long for sexual pleasure or was he consumed with lust. Misery, pain and the screams of his victims fueled him and filled him with an immense pleasure no woman’s body could ever possibly offer him.

They were all the same, sultry, scandalous, attention seeking harlots, prostitutes and women. Thinking they could better their lives if they could slip into his bed. They were wrong, every woman who he allowed to enter his bed chamber under these pretences had walked in with starry eyes and ambition. Only to cry and scream for their life while he slowly dug his nails into their flesh tearing them all apart, slowly and agonisingly. That was until he saw you that one day, any girl of age would’ve started to present themselves to him in shy or subtle ways hoping to catch his eyes. There you were kneeling out of respect in his presence, scared you had offended your lord.

‘Oh? Is this little morsel afraid?’ Fear filled and humbling yourself before him. You couldn’t look at him, there wasn’t an ounce of “I want to sleep with this man.” And yet these feelings caused a sentiment in the depths of his chest, something stirred inside him, you head captured his interest (non sexual at this point). ‘Hmm?, this will be a fine pet to break.’

You were a phenomenon in the temple, one he wanted to study, to take into his clawed hands and mould, twist, stretch and push to the edge and then just over the point of breaking to see what would become of you. Yet, once he had you in hands reach, once you were close enough for him to graze your skin with his nails… he didn’t treat you like a common daisy or water Lilly, no he took you into his hands like a Lotus floating on the water's surface. Making elegant work and taking care of your delicate bloom. You would be his delicate lotus that no one else would ever take the joy in having.

——————

“My gratifying queen, My delicate lotus, My benevolent wife.” Words he doesn’t speak so freely, he whispers them against your skin whenever you’d sleep by his side.

Delicate words and honeyed names had never once crossed his mind in his existence. Yet here he was, allowing himself to indulge in the smallest amount of vulnerability with these words. The press of his feverish kisses against your neck and cheeks between every word.

‘My little beloved pet, so tired, sleeping away the wares of today. How could something so small and insignificant like you cause this shift in my existence hm?’

The back of his hand brushing hair away from your face, nails grazing the side of your face lightly, he held you in his embrace watching you. Two arms securely around you, one supporting his head, the other kept grazing your skin. You’d stir in your sleep when he shifted slightly away from you to lay on his back. You’d become so used to his body heat even on the hottest days you’d search him out half awake.

‘My little lotus,’ he closed the space between you, pulling you into his side again, ‘rest your weary head without worries of tomorrow, I’m here to hold you now.’

He wouldn’t admit it, he didn’t even know it at that moment, but he was absolutely smitten with you in ways he had yet to comprehend. But it showed in his subconscious movements. A hand on your lower back or waist guiding you, knowing you’re close and safe.

Bringing home little jewels and trinkets he’d usually never spare a second glance . That is until a stone sparkles in the light of his flames and he stops briefly to take a close look.

My queen would look Devine with these adorning her neck. These stones would make fine pieces for my wife.

It was a shock when he came home one night waking you when he sat on the bed. You sat up sleepily while he handed you a bag of precious stones and jewels telling you he had brought you a gift, a free hand of his brushing your hair back and bringing you closer by the back of your head so he could kiss your lips.

——————

It was your wedding, there you were standing beside him in the Ceremonial Robes. You stood on his right, his eyes looking down at you.

Hmm, What an enticing display, to have my little pet dressed up so exquisitely for all to see and admire.

Even more enticing to know soon you’ll be round with my child, what an ethereal sight you will be laid out in silk robes and swollen carrying my legacy

My delicate little lotus, my malevolent queen, my gratifying and honourable wife. Perhaps these thoughts never be spoken aloud with heavy sentiment. But I vow myself to you in this instant, that I will do all to assure our future, our health, our children and our endless lives.

I will assure your hand never be left cold nor alone as long as I can take it. nor will it ever be lifted in vain or to labour. Your stomach is never empty as I will assure you have the finest wine and a feast every night if it’s what your little human heart desires, your head will always have a place to rest even if it is only on my chest. Your nights will never be cold, your days will never be short, your loneliness will exist no longer, and your heart will be mine, and mine will be yours.

It wasn’t all he told himself, but it was in the moment you felt a warm sensation against your skin, on your chest below the centre of your collar bone but above your breast was the same mark you’d seen on his tongue very few times.

Ryomen Sukuna DID NOT enjoy the thought of staining your teeth black, instead he took your hand, as if vowing and brains you, the ring finger of your left hand, the base faded to a black band, above it a snark mark matching your chest and another thin black bank, just below your nail was another black band. That’s how your little husband decided to present you as his.

Tag List: @sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks

@bofadeezs

@sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira

Broken :( @simpforyoubitch @domainofmarie @ilovemybabies378 @anyaswlrd @cyder-puff

[billiedeansbitch]

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑)

(𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

Summary: The one where in Larissa sex life is no longer boring or Larissa took chance on a young shapeshifter who had a massive crush on her.

(AO3 link in the title)

A/n: after what it feels like a year of depression (lol) part three is finally done. (It's the longest chapter by far so buckle up)

<<PREVIOUS PART

It had been two weeks since she found out that she might be, as ridiculous as it sounded, carrying your child in her womb though she was still in the shadows of disbelief and that the results were something of an error because how? Just how…could this all make sense? Even with the results she paid hefty for wasn’t at all convincing. Were there some lessons she missed in the anatomy class that could somehow explain this phenomenon? 

It felt cruel and sad, being played like this, it was her body yet it felt like it wasn’t her own. She was supposed to feel it, right? She should know like all the women who were able to predict their pregnancy by trusting their instinct—maybe her instinct wasn’t that strong enough to feel the changes going on or if there were any to begin with but her period was late. She missed it and that was enough for her to worry.

But alas, Larissa gave her mind a rest, choosing to not dwell on the matter; her days went as normal, nobody suspected anything, not even you. The sex continued, and it was great. She was living her best life…supposedly.

When morning came and the sunlight swept across the walls through the gaps of the curtains at seven in the morning on a wednesday, Larissa was up and about managing through her routine that she had so religiously been doing ever since she could remember.

The coffee was left brewing in the kitchen for later while she took her time in the bedroom, picking her clothes, the accessories she’d wear for the day, her perfume, what kind of wrist watch she was in the mood for and so on. Again, everything was normal like it should be.

Sated with the outcome of her makeup, she gave herself a once over through the mirror. She then slipped her kitten heels over her stocking clad feet, feeling them in since they were new and fresh out of the box.

Looking past her shoulders, she couldn’t help but let her eyes wander to her already made bed. Only three days ago you were lying there on your stomach, clad in nothing but her shirt that was obviously too big, swallowing your form until the tops of your thighs as you “innocently” read a book from her shelf.

It could have fooled her by the way the space between your brows creased but upon seeing the cover was turned upside down she knew you were only doing it for show or maybe you were bored out of your mind that your last resort to ease yourself was by doing something remotely childish.

Larissa made it a point to tell you that you were “reading” it wrong as she crossed her bedroom to grab a set of underwear from her drawer to which you told her that it was on purpose, that you were testing out how far you could read them upside down. She hummed, a smile unfurling on her lips. The woman was inexplicably drawn to you that even this did nothing to change her mind about you.

She let you be, hearing your soft murmurs in the background as she slid some clothes on. It was funny to think that only half an hour ago you were rearranging her insides and whispering filthy things into her ear making her own cum spill down the bedsheets. God, she was missing you already and there was no way she was able to deny it by the way she felt her chest squeezed.

The kitchen smelled like coffee when she entered the space, its aroma was so rich it nearly made her salivate. She needed it to start with her day knowing well that her body required it to function and stay alert, yet in the midst of pouring herself a cup, Larissa halted feeling a strange turn in her stomach and put the pot down. What little she had poured was wasted away in the sink.

Instead, she grabbed something to snack on: a mix of nuts that she had been liking as of late. She then left the house early and opted for a concoction of fresh blended fruit juice as well as two medium sized blueberry muffins from the roadside cafe on her way to Nevermore, she also ordered a loaf of their special banana bread with the intention to share it with the Nevermore staff and a slice for her, too, just incase she got hungry in the middle of work which she often did these past few days.

–

“Good morning, Principal Weems.” Enid, ever the sweet girl she was, greeted Larissa in the hallway on her way to the teacher’s lounge holding the goodies in one hand as the other held her drink.

The bounce in Enid’s step was enough for the woman to feel sort of amused. She reciprocated the smile and she greeted her, too.

“You look glowing, Principal Weems.” The younger woman chirped, still smiling. Larissa felt blush creeped to her cheeks. It wasn’t odd for Enid to rain people with compliments, it was actually her brand, and Larissa wasn’t a stranger to it as she, herself, had received it plenty of times yet she found herself dumbfounded particularly by this one. Her, glowing? Of course, she kept her appearance as sophisticated as one could muster while running an entire school of outcasts but glowing? No amount of makeup or creams or moisturisers she lathered her skin with could make her glow unless Enid was lying. Or buttering her up for something she wanted to ask as a favour from her later.

Before the woman could react, Enid was saying goodbye and breezed past her to catch up with her friends in the end of the hallway.

She brushed it off and headed to the teacher’s lounge.

This time it was the new professor who complimented her whilst taking a slice of banana bread for herself. Larissa could only stand right there and smile.

One by one they all had their piece, the last one to grab was Professor Vladimir, moaning when he took a bite. Larissa felt pleased by everyone's reactions, it was as if she baked it herself.

The little nudge on her arm pried her mind off of her thoughts, it was Professor Vladimir eyeing her, it was something that let Larissa know that she should leave now or she’d have to put up with his teasing.

“What’s the special occasion?” He had this irritating habit of wiggling his eyebrows up and down while he gave her smile that was just as ridiculous. “Had a good lay, Rissy?” She knew that nickname was coming and yet she had the audacity to be shocked and eyed him dirty.

“Do me a favour and shut your mouth, Vlad.” It was spoken discreetly low that only he could hear it. Looking around, Larissa felt eased seeing everyone was busy conversing amongst themselves.

Alexander Vladimir was her friend, a gay guy that had this exceptionally good facial harmony even with the moustache that made Larissa want to shave it off herself. They had been friends since their own time at Nevermore, and now, here they were, still friends though Larissa doubted it wouldn’t be for long if he kept pestering her with his comments about you. (Oh yes, he knew about you.)

It all started when he caught you one afternoon creeping out in the hallway, Larissa’s lipstick smeared on your skin and hair was a little bit tousled. It wasn’t rocket science to figure that you were both fucking, he could never judge one’s happiness. He had taken so much pride knowing something else not many were privy to. It made him lose his goddamn mind and since then he never stopped harassing her with questions and teasing.

And although Larissa wasn’t ready to spill her secrets out, it oddly felt good to finally talk about you, to have someone listen to her as she gushed over and over how amazing you were as a person but of course it didn’t all happen in one seating during tea time. He coaxed her out of it and in return, he divulged his recent rendezvous with the groundskeeper. To this day, Larissa felt traumatized from all the information her friend should have kept all to himself.

“Tell me, love, have you done anal? Or sixty-nine ‘cause girl, you are fucking glowing. You aren’t keeping her hostage under your desk or tied to your bed posts, are you?”

Larissa nearly did a spit take, though she quickly recovered and schooled her expression. She did a quick sweep around before jabbing her elbow to his side earning her a yelp.

“Girl, you can deny it in ten different ways and I ain’t gonna believe you. Who cares if you do? I don’t. You can keep her all year long over or under any surface of your office and I wouldn’t dare say a thing.”

Okay, that was it. Larissa’s nostrils flared, eyeing down the man. If he could casually talk like that with all these people in the room, no doubt Larissa could casually wring his neck as well but the thought soon vanished when another teacher joined their space leaving Larissa fuming underneath a calm expression.

She put a practiced smile on her, looking sweet and all as if in her mind she wasn’t thinking about murdering her friend.

It was Mrs Bowen, the music teacher, rubbing her very swollen pregnant belly in front of Larissa. A belly that Larissa could swear wasn’t as prominent as it was now when she last saw the woman, she couldn’t even recall if she sent a congratulatory note or anything.

Subconsciously, she placed a hand flat on her stomach, mimicking the other woman.

“Mrs Bowen! It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages. How far along are you again? It looks like you’re ready to pop!” It was Vlad who broke the ice first. Larissa stayed silent, pensively rubbing her thumb on the soft spot of her belly.

“Almost eight months. I’m carrying triplets.” She made a show by pushing her belly outward.

“Damn that’s a horde! How many positions did you do with your husband to conceive not just one but three?”

The high pitch chuckle broke Larissa out of her trance, removing her hand and letting it fall on her side to appear as if she was smoothing her dress. Thankfully everyone was well occupied to notice the gesture.

“Just one. It runs in the family you know. My husband is a quadruplet.”

“Wow…okay, wow. Really wow.”

“Congratulations on the babies again, Mrs Bowen. ” Larissa said finally.

“Thank you, Principal Weems. I kinda want to ask you, well, I was gonna drop an invitation at your office but I can’t climb two flights of stairs like I used to anymore so I’m just gonna say it. It’s my baby shower this upcoming holiday break. I know it’s quite early but my husband and I decided it’s for the best.”

It was plain as day that the impromptu invitation had caught her off guard, she blinked a few times, she didn’t even realize her jaw was clenched and her brows were raised, as her breath was suspended.

She looked at Mrs Bowen’s face, then down her engorged belly, then back up to her face again. She had no qualms with the pregnant woman, hell, Mrs Bowen was the sweetest, most down to earth living person she encountered in this godforsaken town, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be in a…celebratory mood?

“That’s—” it felt like her voice was caught up in her throat “—that’s wonderful. I, um, I have to check if my schedule is clear but I’ll keep it in mind.” she said, putting a practiced smile on her face. She wanted to leave.

“Excuse me, I have to go. Have a lovely day for both of you and see you around.”

–

Larissa sat in front of her desk, the drink she had was forgotten on the table letting the condensation from the melted ice drip.

Seeing Mrs Bowen in her state made Larissa think about herself. It made her heart beat faster, the image of herself with a big protruding belly was unnerving enough as it was and it was made worse by the thought of how, just fucking how, was she going to go through all stages of pregnancy. Not that anything was confirmed yet, but she just couldn’t help herself.

And it terrified her. The future terrified her. If only she could just pull out the test kits she had hiding in her drawer and piss on it, wait for some goddamn five minutes, and be done. She would at least get a grip of what was really going on, though it felt like it wasn’t that easy.

Maybe a part of her was already hoping no matter how much she denied it while the rest was just scared of the disappointing truth but wouldn’t it be better? You were young, free spirited, you often gush about how you’d want to travel the world and explore. You had a full life right ahead of you and she was not selfish to ask anything of you but she knew you were not a terrible person, you wouldn’t just leave.

Thinking about it made me nauseous. It wasn’t supposed to get this serious. None of these were supposed to happen.

She was fucking turning forty-four in a few months, and this kind of dilema was absolutely not she was expecting at this age.

That day she decided she was too overwhelmed and unwell to properly function so she gave into her whims and she went home and spent the rest of the day in her bed wishing you were there to hold her.

–

Eventually it was the end of the week with a long weekend ahead, Professors were gathering their belongings to spend weekends with their families for those who live far away, and students were getting ready for whatever plans they had for the weekend.

She watched from the balcony how the thick crowd dispersed until few of the staff were left roaming the grounds, only then did she summon herself to collect her things, deeming herself ready to go home.

In the middle of applying a fresh coat of lipstick, she couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the silence, the hollowed feeling that lingered in her chest. She didn't know how the thought got to her but she imagined a gummy smile welcoming her home with a tiny pair of hands opening and closing, too eager to grab a fistful of her clothes. The smell of baby powder and cologne as she buries her face on the crook of a little one’s neck and then you…

She thought about you kissing her and helping take her coat off. She thought about spending her Saturdays in her backyard, lounging on a massive picnic blanket under the tree, indulging the day with books and some wine, and then you’d be both surprised because your daughter just took her first step, and her heart was clenching, a proud smile displayed on her face while you were absolutely freaking out because what if she fell flat on her face?

(Okay. Fuck. Goddamnit)

The sound of the drawer slamming closed harder than it was necessary reverberated in the room. She was hot on her heels, ushering herself into the bathroom, leaving the door open, she held two pregnancy tests with a firm grip.

With bated breath, she sat on the toilet and used the first stick.

—

When you arrived on a Saturday morning, Larissa had just come out of her bedroom. You were still in the hallway, your overnight bag hanging on your shoulder, two paper bags occupying your arms. On your way, you took it upon yourself to buy groceries not wanting Larissa to think you were freeloading off of her or abusing her kindness, plus you thought about cooking for her instead of feeding her take outs.

Your eyes lingered to the way the flimsy straps of her baby blue nightgown that hung loosely on her shoulders, it made you feel things, and when they went south noticing how it was cut mid her thighs, giving you enough skin to ogle at. You couldn’t possibly contain your hunger for her. Her skin looked supple, rosy around the cheeks and freckles around her shoulders going down the length of her arms.

Her nipples peaked from the chill of the morning, and the sunlight casted on her skin gave an ethereal kind of glow. You couldn’t ponder how this was real. How she was real.

Before taking the groceries to the kitchen, you dropped the bag in the hallway, mentally noting to pick it up for later, “I let myself in again thinking you were still probably asleep.”

You walked up to her and she met you halfway. There were bags under her eyes denoting the lack of sleep, and her eyes, they look tired and conflicted.

The groceries almost fell when she surged forward, hands cupping your face, pressing a kiss on your lips and knocking out your breath. You wanted to grab the back of her neck, pull her deeper and kiss her harder. You wanted to reciprocate her obvious longing but you couldn’t unless you wanted spilt milk and raw eggs all over the floor.

“Mhmm, later. I need to put this away first.” So with that, you reluctantly pulled away, sauntering over to the kitchen to put the bags on the counter where she followed you, not letting herself be away from you and it made your heart clench.

Larissa kept the distance between you within an arm’s length, leaning her back on the counter behind you, watching you take the fresh produce out of the bag one by one but there was a lot packed in one bag and you didn’t think you had the patience to put them away, not if she was looking at you like that, not when something felt wrong.

The eggs were the last thing you pulled out and set on the counter. When you faced her, she had her lower lip worried in between her teeth, “Baby, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

She shook her head, stepping closer. The instant you opened your arms, your bodies collided. She rested her forehead against yours, “Sorry.”

You brush a strand away from her face, letting your fingertips linger around her jawbone, “It’s okay. I missed this, too.” you told her, getting a sense that it was the reason that made Larissa emotional, and to think that missing you had this effect on her made you want to wrap her in your arms more; to never let her go.

You offered her a wink, hoping to enlighten her and kissed the tip of her nose, it usually earned you a chuckle or a kiss in response but right now, Larissa only sighed.

Your mind circled back to how you thought her eyes looked very tired, and they still were, missing its shine. You could barely see yourself reflecting in them.

“How about you steal a couple more hours of sleep, hm? As soon as I’m finished putting the groceries away, I will lie with you and then after you have your rest we’ll have breakfast. I’ll make waffles, you like that, right?”

It took her a moment to reply, her eyes watching you closely like she had many times before after sharing an intimate moment that left you both emotionally vulnerable.

“I missed you.” she said, cupping your face. The pad of her left thumb grazed the corner of your lips, stroking the skin tenderly.

“And I missed you a whole lot more. So, so much. I have been thinking about you day and night. Most of my dreams were about you which is embarrassing because even in my sleep, I was obsessed about you.” That, thankfully, made her smile even just a tiny bit, barely perceptible if you hadn’t been this close to see it.

“Do you mean it?” She asked and you gave her a reassuring nod.

“Yes, I do. Now, let’s get you in bed.”

In between the conversation, you felt yourself closer to slipping from what you really wanted to tell her, though you held back and managed. It still felt early to say it and you were afraid of how she’d react. There were too many what ifs and none of them were doing you good. So, as long as you didn’t say it, you still had a chance of still being with her and protecting both of your peace.

Looking away, to shake the thoughts off, something caught your attention interestingly enough. On the bench at the end of the bed, you recognized the neatly folded clothes. They were your pyjamas. She must have been expecting you last night, you knew she had this habit of preparing both of your clothes whenever you were staying so it wasn’t completely random to find them there.

In that moment, from where you stood, you were struck with just how much Larissa deeply cared for you. It was palpable from the things she did for you, for what she had sacrificed by far. Because you knew a woman in her twenties being seen in public with another woman twice her age would have had people to turn their heads, and it was sad because it would only take a second for them to judge you, but mostly her. In their eyes she was a predator that preyed on the young. It would do less damage on you even if you were the one who pushed yourself to be with her.

She had a reputable image that she was putting at risk for you so if that didn’t speak volume of how much she was willing to do to be with you, you would be a goddamn idiot to still think that this woman didn’t feel the same way as you do if not more.

“Darling?” Her voice reeled you back at the present moment, she was already in bed, laying on her side with her head propped on her hand.

If your heart could grow every time you think you love her, it would have been massive, uncontainable even. Yes, yes you love her.

“Just give me a second,” You shed your pants, followed by the shirt you have on, then you reached behind you to unclasped your bra which soon fell on top of the messy pile. At this point, your body was on autopilot, acting according to what felt necessary.

You needed her to know that her effort hadn’t gone to waste. You took the simple white tee from the bench, sniffing it briefly. It smelled like her. In fact, the whole room smelled just like her, and you basked in its scent, in its comfort that it gave you knowing that as long as you were in this room you were hers and she was yours, the rest of the world didn’t matter.

You joined her after, sliding into the warm soft sheets and into her awaiting arms. You throbbed to be this close to her all week long, nothing could make up for it, not the facetime calls or the voice messages, or pictures. They all did manage to fill in at least an inch of your longing but nothing could quite beat having her next to you and breathing onto her skin, feeling her pulse beneath your touch and her lips against yours.

She was the pleasure you couldn’t deny yourself from. Every single bit of you was latching like vines around her unwilling to release itself. You craved for the sweet taste of the mornings where her smile ended up on your lips, before you were lapping up the coats of her essence around your fingers and swallowing it.

The silence stretched for a while, the words you wanted to relieve your chest from stayed caged; guarded within your ribs. You wanted her so much you wanted to do this right and you would…just not right now.

Everything was in motion when you blinked, your breath coming in deep, expanding your lungs with the sickening burn. Her scent filled your brain with a high level of dopamine making you feel fuzzy all over.

“What happened to putting away the groceries first?” She asked, a mild tone of amusement apparent in her voice, shifting herself so you could lay your head on her arm.

You snuggled forward, hiding your face on the crook of her neck, “Change of plans.” You breathed out. You then sling an arm around her waist, bridging whatever gap was left until you were all flushed against her with your legs slotted in between her thighs. “Would you rather I do them now?”

“No. I want you exactly where you are right now.” And to prove her words, Larissa wrapped her other arm around you, trapping you into her hold then she hummed, threading her fingers along your hair.

You smirked against her skin, feeling the light satisfaction her answer gave. “That’s what I thought.” And for sure she must have felt it or something because she playfully pinched your arm.

Repeating the process of combing through your hair, you grew silent, your breaths were evened and relaxed, even the tension she noticed the moment she held you disappeared. For a second there she thought you had fallen asleep, which made it kind of funny because you were the one who insisted she was the one who needed some sleep, but she wasn’t going to tease you now. Perhaps, you were just as tired as her, she couldn’t ponder how you could get up at the ungodly hours of the morning and drive two hours to get here.

That was until her skin was met with the warm wet feeling of your mouth. The sensations she adored had rendered her eyes closed. “Darling,” Her hips bucked in the slightest way. It felt like encouragement on your part, as well as the way her back arched causing her breasts to thrust forward. And you couldn’t keep it in yourself anymore, you detached your mouth from her clavicle, continuing your exploration to her mouth and kissed her while you palmed her breast over the silk.

She paused in the middle of the kiss, brows knitting together. You felt her hand cupped the back of yours stilling your movement, “Be gentle,”

“But I’m being gentle?”

“Extra gentle, honey.” You nodded, leaning forward to kiss her again, and your hand resumed working on her breast, “This okay?”

It took her a minute to answer a simple “yes...” it was breathy, almost sounding unsure, but she pushed herself, nibbling on your lip before you had the chance to overthink her tone and you kissed her back with feral need.

The pleasure was slowly building instead of pain, and it went on, until eventually you were yearning to have it in your mouth. With a simple yank on the neckline of her nightgown, her breasts were freed and exposed.

The sight of her nipples hard and rosy sent blush all over your face, it was like seeing them the first time again. But what really tipped you over the edge was the way they looked fuller, more supple and round with new veins visibly showing.

Her fingers in your hair grew slack before they found purchase on your shoulder when your lips suddenly took one nipple in, and it was chased by a muffled cry.

Pushing your shoulder back, she looked down, surprised by just how sensitive and sore she was and it hadn’t been a minute since having them in your mouth.

Wide eyed, you asked, “Sorry, did I hurt you again?”

“No, they’re just quite sensitive.” she was rubbing the nipple with her thumb to alleviate the tingling.

“I’m really sorry.” The fear of hurting her again extinguished your desire, even if it was unintentional you couldn’t erase the pained expression she had.

“I told you it’s okay.”

“Maybe we should stop? Or are you hungry? I can–” Larissa grabbed your wrist before you could get out of bed.

“No, no, not hungry, though a few hours of sleep sounds appealing now.”

You returned back to your previous position, “I’m sorry to cut your fun, sweetheart.” She dropped a kiss on your forehead, her thumb rubbing your brow to soothe the frown on your face, “I’ll make it up to you later, is that alright?”

“We don’t have to do anything later if that’s what you’re hinting at. I’m content to just lay here with you and spend the rest of the day rotting in this bed.”

“Oh, is that right?” Larissa chuckled at your choice of words, pressing a kiss onto your hairline.

“Ahuh, I’m okay. Now, will you turn your back on me please, and let me spoon you?” your voice was muffled by the soft skin of her chest when you murmured.

“Did I hear you right? My baby wants to spoon me?”

My baby. Your chest tightened at that. “Please?”

You both exchanged a look with smiles invading both your lips. Without another word Larissa turned her back on you and you gladly offered your arm for her to rest her head, while the other hugged her waist from behind.

Quickly, you were both engulfed by the blissful comfort of silence, hushing the pestering thoughts that loomed. It settled your heart at the right pace. You ever wondered if it ever felt the same way for her.

And as if she could read your mind, she held your hand and brought it to her chest letting you feel her heart thudding softly on your palm. You took that as the answer and smiled.

“Good night, my love.” You nuzzled your nose on the side of her neck like a cat, smelling traces of her body wash and perfume, some of her shampoo as well. Your brain was so fuzzy it didn’t question the last two words.

Meanwhile, Larissa’s heart leapt to her throat.

–

The last time Larissa had locked herself in her office’s private restroom, pacing back and forth with her head pulsing, was outreach day. She was barefooted, she had an unlit cigarette in between her fingers thumbing the filter, too tempted to lit the stick.

And yesterday, she found herself in the same situation. She paced along the black and white tiles with her arms hugging her middle. She had an impending headache so she stopped and pressed her back against the wall. She closed her eyes for a minute, feeling the coolness seeping to her back. She would probably regret this right after but she was far too emotionally stressed to care. She then dramatically slid down until she was sitting, the length of her legs stretched out, one ankle over the other.

The beating of her heart was too damn fast, her tears welling up the corners of her eyes until her vision was a blur and it all came leaking down her face.

On the counter, near the sink, two white test kits laid parallel to one another showing identical results.

Larissa laughed when she picked it up again, staring at the two visible pink lines.

[wellofdean]

I wanted to make a separate pose to big up these excellent tags on this post about how a show can be about misogyny when it's about men from @deangirlism101 :

#by virtue of watching the show long after it stopped airing and after years of exposure to the fandom#I've experienced a very interesting phenomenon wherein i went in expecting a very straightforward male fantasy#specifically in regards to dean#and was continuously surprised by how dean was around women who were actual characters and not caricatures#with caricatures of women dean also becomes a caricature of a womanizer#but with woman characters? with victims and friends?#dean is constantly paternal/brotherly#endlessly protective and respectful#in fact dean's utter lack of sexualization of the complex women around him in the first few seasons#kind of had me thinking he might just be straightforward gay#additionally it's interesting to point out that dean is the only one of the three winchesters who does not have a#''symbolic woman'' that drives his narrative#i.e. of the three winchesters he is the one who engages with the women around him as people and not someTHING to give him ''purpose''#which ties pretty well into his own role in his family being a typically femenine one#john endlessly relies on dean to serve the role of his mother yet he resents him when he does it so naturally#which from a queer lense is pretty much spelling out ''john can't put his finger on it but something (queerness) about dean bothers him''#anyways it just surprises me how#the fandom has perpetuated this image of the characters#and how#ironically#that image is the exact caricature dean so obviously puts on and we so obviously are supposed to KNOW he puts on

Some really nice points here, and bang on target:

Dean is not called to his adventure/journey because a symbolic woman dies like John and Sam are; he is put upon it by his father and his own sense of responsibility and love before he has the agency to choose. He wants his father's approval, his brother's love, and he wants not to be alone in a world of monsters...and...is HE a monster? A killer? Is everything his fault?

John resents Dean because what he needs from Dean (obedience, domestic work, emotional labour) is feminine. It's what women are for. Dean internalizes that resentment. Sam defies John and is driven by his own losses, and John can respect that, but Dean becomes the family repository of what they've lost. Dean is the eldest daughter who can never do enough.

John has chosen to abandon normal life and live on the fringes to pursue his revenge quest, and Sam is fighting to get back to the center -- left his family, hot girlfriend, Stanford Law, credit in the straight world, friends. But Dean? He has accepted that he will never be normal. He has accepted that he will always be a lonely, liminal weirdo who knows something terrible about the world that most people are spared from knowing.

Like:

If you leave Supernatural season 1 without realising that everything Dean pretends to be is pretty much the opposite of what he is, then you are not watching it right, full stop. The Dean Winchester he pretends to be is a character invented by a terrified, homeless, wounded little boy who doesn't know how else to protect himself.

Second, if you can't see how totally fucking queer all that is, I CAN'T HELP YOU. And,

you cannot hit that many nails on the head without knowing where you're swinging your hammer, and in conclusion, Dean was always deeply queered, and that was in the DNA of his character.

The truth is, that Dean is a very cohesive character. He is written and performed beautifully, and with intention. He is not an accident, he is an artistic creation, and he is excellently drawn. I am not "giving the writers too much credit", I am taking an Occam's Razor-type view of it, and coming up with the simplest explanation for what I see on the screen.

That said, if by some insane magic trick they managed to make Dean this queer by accident? It doesn't matter what they intended, because THE TEXT IS WHAT IT IS. I don't need the permission of the authors to see a church by daylight, and Dean is THAT OBVIOUS.

[glitteringobliteration]

this might be an unpopular opinion. i’ve been seeing (and posting) a lot about buddy dawn since finishing the episode (which, expected! makes total sense given all of the everything about the end of the episode). but i think something important to keep in mind is that we shouldn’t be treating him like a soft little cinnamon roll baby boy now just bc he’s dead.

the same exact thing happened with lucy frostblade and yolanda badgood. another blog on here (i can’t find it at the moment, i’ll tag them) made a post about this phenomenon and how it shows up in reality too, and it’s exactly what emily was referring to when she was saying (as wanda childa) that the complicated women’s podcast episode about lucy was “nothing she could get her rocks off to.”

we start almost romanticizing these characters and people once they’re gone, but they were complex individuals with full lives, with the capacity to be good and bad.

buddy dawn’s death doesn’t negate the actions we‘ve seen him take in the show thus far. yes he was brought up in a highly restrictive environment and his beliefs have been shaped by his surroundings, and we can’t fault him for that. he was just a transfer student in the wrong place at the wrong time. he was used as a pawn in kipperlilly’s game, and that should make us upset for his sake. but i don’t think we should be waxing poetic about him just yet. right now he’s still just a cleric of helio who got fucked by his circumstances. we don’t know anything else yet.

he did deserve better. we’re obviously allowed to feel upset or overwhelmed by what happened during the episode. but he’s probably going to get revived and we’ll learn more next week. everybody pls calm down (i’m guilty as well i’m talking to myself too)

[riordanverse-crime-cases]

The First Avenger Phenomenon—Are Celebrities Involved?

Cred: @moonl1ghtba3

Anyone with an interest in occult locations will find the name “Lotus Hotel & Casino” familiar. Visited by paranormal investigators from all around the globe, this place is unlike any other. While other places prone to investigations are shrouded in rumors of women in red dresses wandering the halls, or claims of dead children whispering in the ears of passersby, this casino located in Las Vegas, Nevada has one great mystery—it’s a place where time seems to distort.

Unfortunately, we have not sent any of our own agents to investigate there, as it has been deemed “unsafe”—people who go there don’t come back for years to come, in the exact state that they left, if a little whiplashed. People have nicknamed this place “First Avenger Casino”, in reference to the 2011 Captain America superhero film and how it ended for the protagonist. Similar to Steve Rogers, people who disappear into the Lotus appear to freeze in time for months or even years, and re-appear seemingly unaware of how long they’ve been missing. 

Rumors of the Lotus Inn appear in medieval British texts, showing cases of locals in Bath, England who said they’d slept a night at the Inn and a decade had passed. The earliest of these allegations date back to the 16th century, and they had been initially dismissed as fabricated claims, but after a few dozen cases through the years, the owners of the Inn were burned for supposed witchcraft. Rumors died down after that, and it is unknown if the disappearances stopped happening. 

Shortly after the American Civil War, however, rumors began circulating about another time-warping location, the Lotus Inn in Las Vegas—later renamed the “Lotus Hotel & Casino” in the 1940’s. Strangely enough, when it first opened its doors, unrecognizable people walked out with English accents, asking about Queen Elizabeth I, who had died 250 years prior. These individuals did not seem to know this and were stunned to find out. Most of them were confined to lunatic asylums, although a few did manage to escape to English soil. 

In earlier years, people who have escaped the Lotus have been identified as having the same appearance and DNA as individuals who had been reported missing decades earlier, seemingly having not aged and unaware of the shift in time period. Scientists and historians are baffled by this strange Winter Soldier phenomenon, unable to come up with a reasonable explanation for this bizarre coincidence.

Religious leaders, however, claim to have easily found a reason behind this phenomenon. In the West, they point to alleged dealings with Satan, and in the East, possible reasons vary from jinn to rakshasa. Certain conspiracy theorists also believe that a few celebrities may have also made these deals with devils, agreeing to worship a demon in exchange for eternal youth. Celebrities linked to this alleged “demon worship” include Thomas Brodie-Sangster, Nicola Coughlan, Andrew Garfield, and Jada Pinkett-Smith. However, these allegations are very obviously unfounded and should not be taken seriously under any circumstances. Certain skincare companies have also been accused of associating with the Lotus in order to “learn the secrets of anti-aging”, theorists say.

According to experts on the matter, they “wish” that they could shrug this off as a strange coincidence, but that becomes less and less likely with each person who appears with a claim that they’re in the wrong decade. Some of those experts, however, believe that this is some sort of strange mental illness of thinking you’re in the wrong century, but even they can’t deny how bizarre it is that they remember their past experiences which can be linked as events that have occurred to a person matching their name and DNA. Internet users believe that it may be people starting to more clearly remember their past lives, and a new trend has started appearing on social media, claiming ways to help you remember your past life when you’re reborn. Obviously, these also should not be taken seriously. 

Investigators refuse to look into the case, saying that the risk of no return is too high, and that there is no substantial evidence to prove anything occultish happening. Thus, the case of the Lotus Hotel & Casino lies untouched, potentially continuing throughout the years.  

The Mayor of Las Vegas declined to comment on the matter. 

Up Next: Marie and Hazel Levesque have been declared dead, officials say.

Tagging (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @starielluvsgeekmythos @foronceididntlookback @demigod-jack-hearth @sunflxwcrs @mxnkeydo

@thx-sunsxts-addrxss @seateas @daughterofthemuse @smolbeanie1221 @hijabi-flavored-nerd

@amandayetagain @sxturn-to-mxrs @baguettes-and-biscuits @im-on-crack-send-help @qylins-cafvne

@hxart-of-thx-ocxan @hyacinth-dancing-in-rain @aspenshade888

[scarlethyena]

Seeing how people are reacting to Vivian in the Thousand Year Door remake, I've been having flashbacks to the backlash against Bridget in the new Guilty Gear game. It seems to me that whenever a piece of media (especially one from Japan) features a trans character, we get a wave of people trying to make excuses about how they're not actually trans and they're just crossdressing and there's just some cultural/linguistic context we're missing out on.

And like. I'll grant that sometimes people project western concepts of gender onto other cultures, like that is a thing that happens. But that's not always the case, and in fact, sometimes people will try to treat LGBTQ+ people as a purely western phenomenon when we aren't. With that in mind, I think it's very telling that it's almost always white people from North America or Europe who are saying these things about Japan. Like I can't even tell you how many times I've seen these types try to frame Japan as some haven free of "wokeness" and treat the Japanese as a hive mind who all hold conservative beliefs. So when a piece of Japanese media features queer people they go into denial or claim to speak for all Japanese people collectively. "The localizers have an agenda!" they'll say. That or they'll just act all confused and be like "what's their gender?? It's so weird and unclear like what's in their pants??" I saw people acting like this with Alluka from Hunter x Hunter for example, a character who is so obviously meant to be a trans girl that I would legit struggle to think of an alternative interpretation.

Specific terminology and verbage varies, but ultimately, trans people do exist in other cultures whether you like it or not. You can try to talk around it, try to come up with convoluted alternative explanations, accuse us of projection and forcing our existence down your throat, whatever, but that's not going to change what's there. Bridget is a trans woman, Vivian is a trans woman, many more characters are meant to be trans women and others trans men or nonbinary. Trans people exist in Japan. Because it's a real country with real people and not a fantasy land you can project onto.

[pacific-rimbaud]

i was reading your thoughts on how fans felt about l&oha and while i concur it is a perfect piece of work in my head and have reread it 5x, i wonder if you think fans tend to be harsher/more critical of hermione and let draco slide? i see it a lot in fics where he's more of an alphahole type

Oh, man. Okay. The can is open, the worms are loose. Rant under the cut.

I'm actually going to set men aside entirely. Just. To the side with you. I desperately need more realistically complicated men, too, but that's a whole separate discussion. Right now: women.

There must be whole dissertations out there on the phenomenon of readers hating female characters with negative traits. I'm a fandom old, so I didn't grow up identifying with Hermione, and wouldn't have even if I'd been young enough to. I did that "which character are you" test just now and my top three matches were Janis Ian from Mean Girls, Jughead from Riverdale and April from Parks and Rec, which, massive grain of salt, etc. BUT gives you an idea. I am not a Hermione and never was, so she's never been a comfort character or self-insert for me. Some of my favorite fictional women are Sophie Hatter (mean, irrational, petty, old and mostly loving it), Harrowhark Nonagesimus (evil stick), Phryne Fisher (zero fucks to give). What I like about Hermione is how imperfect she is. I'm a "cleverest witch of your age I've ever met" truther (book!Lupin is absolutely saying "you're the canniest 14 year-old child I have personally met, saying this as a guy who doesn't get out much," not "you are a once-in-a-century genius"), and from my perspective, she's often wrong and often a dick, and not in a fun and fiesty burn-down-the-world BAMF way. Which. Good for her! Be human.

And that's the thing. I personally don't want Hermione to be perfect, I want her to be what I think she is, textually, which is intelligent, hardworking, loyal, competitive, compassionate, controlling, belittling, rude, petty, insecure, vindictive, volatile. She has the right to be that way, because she's human. The desire for perfected women (or unapologetically and unstoppably awful ones, another brand of female power fantasy) is not limited to Dramione fandom. I think it's amplified in DHr by many readers who DO identify as former gifted children, books-as-coping-mechanism kids and Strong Female Personalities who felt marginalized in childhood and want to see Hermione have it all: she's slim, she's tiny, she's fragile as a bird, she'll break your neck, she'll step on your throat, she'll tear down the system, she'll heal all wounds, she does not need help, she holds all the knowledge, she holds all the cards, she is forever wronged, she can do no wrong, her vagina is tight, her nipples are hard, her hair is on point, her waist is tiny, her tits are bouncing, her ass is in the style of Now. And like. This isn't at all unique to DHr and Hermione. It's pervasive in fiction written by and for women. Female power fantasies are obviously feeding a massive hunger. It's just not what I personally want. Personally, I find it alienating and uncomfortable, which I know equates to, "That is wrong and shouldn't exist" to a lot of people, but that's its own tale as old as time.

There's a disconnect that happens too often where a reader wants one (1) thing from their fiction, and receives something else, even when the contents are clearly labeled on the tin. In this case, wanting a female power fantasy and encountering a woman who's written with flaws makes people upset. And maybe if we could be more honest with ourselves about what we're looking for when we read, work to accept that not everyone wants the same experience, and learn to close a book when it's not working for us and say, "No shade, this isn't for me," it would be less upsetting when we encounter a character who isn't written to meet our personal expectations. I will open a book, realize the FMC is a female power fantasy archetype and close it, because that's not what I show up for. I like my women gritty and weird and foolish and vulnerable and liable to hurt people and feel terrible about it. Give me all the exhausting chatterers and evil sticks and jocks with swords and their hearts on their sleeves (their hearts ripped out), give me shy Anne Elliot and her suitcase full of regrets and the ugly fuckup who never has a glow up, give me dirtbag stoners and Fleabag and Alicent Hightower apologetics and every role Natasha Lyon has ever played. It's not a moral high ground, it's about a preference for seeing actual, demeritus flaws on the page and on the screen. Blame that woman. It's her fault. She has so many faults. Then show me how to forgive her so I can figure out how to forgive myself.

The thing is, I love women. I love women so fucking much. I want to be around them, to get to know them, to read about them, to watch them on TV and see them in films. And personally, I like them ugly. Physically. Spiritually. Morally. Give a woman a Bad Personality and watch her succeed in the most self-injurious way possible, fuck you. Give her a gaping chest wound and line it with teeth. Stick a piece of grit in that girl's tightly sealed shell so that a pearl is her only option. Make her love other women, make her fuck it up, make her have to earn them back.

Thankfully I do feel like we're getting more ugly women in fiction, especially BIPOC, queer and marginalized women who deserve gross, weird, nasty representation and not just didactic moralism, patronization and misguided sainthood. Some readers won't want that, and that's fine. Again, personally (it's all so personal, please, please remember that when you hit that comment button), I'm here for it. If you write about women like this, know that you have a thirsty reader here. I'm swallowing them up. I'm smacking my lips. I'm smashing my mug on the cafeteria floor and calling for another.

[morlock-holmes]

Part of my confusion about "Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria" is that it's really just... not a good term? It doesn't really reflect what it's supposed to, which is the idea that some teenagers essentially take on a trans identity as a sort of social role spurred on by friend groups.

I think that this is likely to be actually true in at least some sense, so I was amazed at how unconvincing the Littman paper which coined the term actually is. The parental narratives advanced in that paper are just unbelievable on their face.

Ever since the gay rights movement I've felt that our vocabulary for talking about this stuff is deliberately incredibly stupid, for reasons I haven't quite been able to suss out.

In the gay rights battles, everybody got together and agreed that there were exactly two possibilities:

Gay people are born that way

Gay people made a choice to be gay

I think this is really dumb because those are really obviously not the only two options, and also because there's lots of biological "born this way" things we still treat or try to eliminate, and lots of choices that are still incredibly important to protect.

But also, like, okay, think about sexual fetishes. Say you have a guy with a cheerleader fetish. Cheerleaders are a contingent social phenomenon; no 12th century Breton had a cheerleader fetish. The possibility of such a fetish arose with the invention of the cheerleader.

But it's just as obvious that people do not choose their fetishes the way that they choose, say, a new car. Nobody says, "After listing out the pros and cons, I felt that having a cheerleader fetish was the best choice, because it combines a little bit of exotic spice while still being mainstream enough that it can't be used as blackmail if people find out about it."

No, one day you just realize that you think cheerleaders are really hot.

I do tend to think that gender identity is, for most people, a lot less immediately set in stone than sexual orientation is. My personal impression is that the vast majority of people start to understand very quickly whether they are attracted to men, women, or both, and that they only tell themselves differently because they fear social censure.

I'm not really convinced that the same is true of gender identity; I think that for an extremely large number of people it does function a bit more like a fetish, in that there are people who encounter the idea for the first time, go, "Huh, yeah that's cool or whatever" and after repeated encounters come to think, "Actually I am really into this."

I'm very, very suspicious of the tendency to then assert that this must inherently, then, be a discovery of something that always existed within the person since birth.

There's also the fact that gender roles exist, and people want to be legible to people around them.

For a lot of people, dressing up as a vampire on Halloween is fun, but dressing up as a vampire to go grocery shopping in June would be deeply embarrassing. Because on Halloween all the people around you understand why you're dressed that way and your dress makes you part of a larger social whole; in June you're going against the grain, marking yourself out from the people around you, probably drawing stares and hidden smiles.

Because sex roles in our society are so set in stone, there is a certain extreme dissatisfaction with not following them, even when allowed to do so.

I can wear chokers and frills and pretty hair ribbons if I want, but the women around me can do that anywhere in the country and have people think of it as normal, as obvious, rather than *a statement*.

Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria, from reading the Littman paper, seems to refer to a parental conviction that their child essentially got the idea to be trans from a peer group who convinced them they were trans despite a lack of gender dysphoria in childhood.

Like I said, the general narrative is really, really hard to believe at face value, for example:

A total of 63.8% of the parents have been called “transphobic” or “bigoted” by their children for one or more reasons, the most common being for: disagreeing with the child about the child’s self-assessment of being transgender (51.2%); recommending that the child take more time to figure out if their feelings of gender dysphoria persist or go away (44.6%); expressing concerns for the child’s future if they take hormones and/or have surgery (40.4%); calling their child by the pronouns they used to use (37.9%); telling the child they thought that hormones or surgery would not help them (37.5%); recommending that their child work on other mental health issues first to determine if they are the cause of the dysphoria (33.3%); calling the child by their birth name (33.3%); or recommending a comprehensive mental health evaluation before starting hormones and/or surgery (20.8%)

So, like, the whole tenor of the paper is that these are basically very liberal parents who are sort of being cut off by their kids for no reason, but like...

This is typical of the general weasel wording used by Littman. Are the third of parents who called their kids by pronouns they used to use going, "She - Oops, he, I'm sorry" one time and getting blasted? Do they claim to be trying but just get it wrong literally every single time? Or do they just flat out refuse to call their child by their preferred pronouns?

When my brother was first entering high school, he joined the Sea Scouts, a division of the Boy Scouts dedicated to learning about sailing. He later entered a maritime college and has had a succession of maritime jobs, which will likely be his career for the rest of his life.

Is that the result of social contagion or was he born that way?

I think the question is obviously both absurd and irrelevant.

[cinnamonest]

LENA HI i need to ask. how do you survive irl? bc personally im a radical feminist and im all for eradicating gender roles and empowering women so having all these raging fetishes that stem from misogyny is so shameful to me(not that i really want to stop anyway…) i walk around with millions of unwanted inappropriate thoughts produced by my noncon-adled porn-rotten brain. like i genuinely need advice(or at least reassurement…) from someone that can relate. even if you cant relate or dont want to answer, id be VERY happy if you could just post this to your board so maybe someone else could see it and send a reply, as another anon or as a comment to the post, idk. thank you in advance. and no i dont want to see a professional about this, the fuck am i supposed to tell them😭

I totally get that, I struggled with the same thing for a long time. I'm not great with explaining things like this, but I think the most important thing to address (the observation of which helped me get over feelings of shame and guilt) is

1) a disconnect between real misogyny and fictional misogyny, as well as 2) critical examination of fandom culture perpetuating shaming the content.

To be very clear: misogyny in real life is not like what I write about. Actual misogynists behave remarkably differently from what you see here. They do not cherish you, they're not just possessive or tsun, they genuinely do not see you as human, you are disposable to them, they hate you — and their behavior reflects that.

Secondly, I think it helps to become aware of a phenomenon I've noticed, increasingly so in recent years, where the same people vehemently hating on dark fiction will turn around and engage in very real misogyny. It's a bizarre phenomenon but it's definitely real and observable, and observing this over and over again has proven to me that fictional content does not at all facilitate real engagement.

I'm obviously biased to myself, and I won't say it's objectively true, but I personally think that the fictional content helps me recognize the real thing even where others often don't, and I've seen others in these spaces have similar experiences.

Which frankly, this contrast is not good because real misogyny, especially as it is casually woven into everyday life and culture, causes real harm, yet fandom culture is increasingly obsessed with fictional content and shaming consumers while turning a blind eye to it occurring in reality.

Recognizing the difference, for me at least, and the disconnect between them, as well as the realization of just how often real misogyny was a critical part of getting over feelings of guilt.

Tldr:

1) fictional misogyny and real misogyny are not only different, but often mutually exclusive, and

2) engaging with fictional content on misogyny does not inhibit your ability to recognize nor combat it — that's a matter of careful analysis of engagement with culture.

Also on another note — there are a lot of professionals who are very understanding about this sort of thing! I won't say every single one is, but there are plenty of non-judgemental professionals.

[lucystark12]

we might be witnessing something

obviously we all know how much i love byler, and what im about to say is going to sound like “gen z walking away from the white house on fire with hayloft by mother mother playing” but i have to speak my truth here- i think byler being canon will go FAR beyond the fandom and casual watchers of stranger things. we might literally be the early adopters of a pop cultural phenomenon that could go down in history as one of the most important moments in media history.

stranger things is a really bizarre phenomenon in the grand scheme of things, because it is SO famous. it’s popularity has been compared to shows like game of thrones, but it goes even beyond that, because EVERYONE watches it. i’ve been watching it since i was eleven. my mom watches it. my uncles watch it. my best friend watches it. my grandma watches it. it’s viewership is so wide because there are so many aspects of it that appeal to so many different people. the impact this show has sent a song released forty years ago to number one on the charts practically overnight and it STILL plays on the top 40 radio to this day.

think about american politics as they are right now- we’re bearing witness to one of (if not THE) most important election in american history. the difference between trump and kamala is the difference between potential dystopia and nuclear fallout and peace and progressiveness. if trump wins, he will pull all of our aid from ukraine, letting russia push forward into western europe, and we all know what happens when a country tries to push into western europe. trump’s agenda in project 2025 imposes potential laws that will take us back hundreds of years in lgbtq+ rights, rights for people of color, and women’s rights. this election has caused a huge amount of dread and fear in the american people especially as the days push on. and what do people historically cling to in moments of fear like this? art.

think about music during the vietnam war, movies like “red dawn” during the cold war, or mccarthyism during world war two. when people are afraid of the real world, they tend to turn to popular media for escapism. we’re already seeing it, as ridiculous as it sounds, in things like brat summer or the debate edits to chappell roan songs. it might not seem like it’s happening because everything about it is different today in the digital age versus sixty years ago when tvs were boxes, but it is. this is only the beginning. and with the release of the next stranger things season, it’s possible that it could only grow more.

picture this: it’s next july. trump has been sworn in as 47th president of the united states and is six months into his second term. there’s already talks of him overturning obergefell v. hodges (the supreme court ruling that gave us gay marriage), there’s now a nationwide abortion ban, and political opponents of his are slowly seeming to disappear and go inactive. but hey! the 2020’s most beloved tv show is airing its last season this week.. it’s an easy way for us all to feel nostalgia about a time (wether that be the 80s or summer 2019) when our country was progressing forward instead of so drastically backwards as it is now, or to just watch a cool sci-fi show with one of the highest viewerships of any show ever, second only to game of thrones. everyone is turning on their tvs at midnight to watch these new episodes and suddenly- the main couple consisting of the two main characters of the show breaks up, the boy leaving the girl for his childhood best friend, whom he has been in love with for years but been forced to ignore because of the way society views gay people?

and everyone is seeing this, even 40+ y/o homophobes who watch the show for the nostalgia factor and never suspected a thing. the public is outraged. fox news is going on about the gay agenda. but the shock of the news is turning heads. people are changing their minds because… people being gay actually hasn’t only been a thing for the last ten years??! gay people might not actually be lesser humans? ANYBODY CAN BE GAY? what is happening! we know everyone watches this, so people of all backgrounds all across the world and more specifically the country are reacting to this in different ways. but no matter how you look at it, everyone is talking about it. it’s all over everyone’s for you page, SNL is parodying it, anderson cooper is talking about it on CNN, trump is denouncing it on twitter, there’s a push for it to be banned in florida.

suddenly, the democrats are picking up on this, because isn’t this everything we’ve been fighting for this whole time put at the forefront of a mainstream show? this is forcing everyone to confront the implications of having a gay ship be the focal point of a show with the viewership of stranger things, and the democratic party and it’s supporters pick up on this, turning it into a symbol and essentially a martyr of the party as a whole. whatever song (and you know there will be a song) that’s used in the scene where byler becomes official is immediately topping the charts. people are walking around wearing t shirts with byler quotes on them like we’re seeing now with the kamala brat t shirts. hundreds of people are influenced by it and we may even see an increase in support for politicians who advocate specifically for gay rights or are gay themselves.

this all happens because when people who are being spotlighted by pop culture speak out, everybody hears it. it’s the same reasoning behind why an endorsement from taylor swift could outright win kamala this election. a huge part of our population has quiet beliefs that they’re just waiting to dive into until somebody in mainstream media tells them that it’s a good idea. in making byler cannon, stranger things could be changing the trajectory of popular culture and american politics as a whole for years to come. it’s all about the domino effect. if people see this, all it does is open a gateway for other stories and conversations to happen, because something so outrageous as making byler canon during the early stages of project 2025 will turn the heads of every politically inclined person in america, from every maga cap wearing trucker to every blue haired barista, and when heads are turned things are changed.

[littlekohai77]

Muse Dating headcanons

{𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍. 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝙸'𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐. }

:𝟶 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚖𝚏 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸'𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚍𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚞𝚕𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚌 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚑 :𝟹

🅆🄰🅁🄽🄸🄽🄶🅂: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR BALD JIWOO IS GONNA COME FOR YOU, NSFW content, combining two requests, edging, overstimulation, muse being a tease, squirting.

*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*

🅼🆄🆂🅴:

🅂🄵🅆:

He definitely chugs down 'respect women juice' every morning at 5 am religiously.

I mean, his mentor is a woman so she's bound to teach him how to treat a lady.

His attraction towards you is something he is aware of but refuses to acknowledge. Not wanting to tangle you up in his mess or just because he fear that from then on he won't ever be able to keep a straight face in front of you.

But his mentor, Supri Baster obviously catches onto what he's hiding.

It's not obvious. The signs are so small. Like the little quirk at the corner of his lips wherever he catches sight of you. The little momentary pause in whatever he's doing as you walk by. The way he seems to talk a little more than necessary whenever conversing with you. The way he's a little distracted whenever you're around.

They're little signs. Almost invisible but as his mentor, nothing can go unnoticed by her.

She makes sure to give him a little talk. Nudging him to actually make a move instead of following after you like some lovesick puppy.

So treat her with respect and treat her well.

Anyway now to the established relationship part.

He's the finest gentleman in all the lands.

If there's anything bothering you, he's ready to help but also knows when to back off and let you fight your own battles.

He's just the right amount of protective. Always talking note of your safety. Asking you if that person's actions or comments are genuinely bothering you and if you want him to do something about it.

Of course he's sheathing in anger, infuriated and over come with a desire to crush their skulls in. But what matters to him more, is what you want. You're the one being subjected to their torment after all, so it's only up to you to decide.

You get the point. He respects your choices and decisions no matter if he thinks you're being too merciful. He will make suggestions but that's as far as he'll go.

Although if said decision involves your safety, that respect for your wishes partially gets thrown out the window. He loves you and wants to live. Is that so hard to understand? He'll cry and beg on his knees if that's what if takes for you to understand.

He's an ogle-r. He stares when you apply lipstick/lip balm to your lips, watches intently as you smack your lips together and then starts to feel dizzy cause you're literally so fucking pretty.

The best way to apply chapstick in his opinion, is by kissing you.

He's so sweet it's literally making your teeth rot.

He gives you compliments a lot on the daily.

His love language mostly consists of words of affirmation and acts of service.

He always keeps his words. If he promises something to you, it's going to happen no matter how unrealistic or bizarrely impossible it might sound.

And if you do the same, prove through your actions that you do care about him and keep your word, he'll be head over heels for you. ꉂ(ˊᗜˋ*)♡

He's also a copycat. Falling under the common phenomenon among couples. He copies your unique phrases, your walking speed, your music taste etc.

One thing he's especially mindful of is to always walk behind or beside you, never ahead of you as this always helps him keep an eye of you.

Dates with him consist of a healthy balance of shopping sprees, fine dining and domestic activities.

🄽🅂🄵🅆:

He gives off major service Dom vibes. But he's not boring! He doesn't just simply do whatever you ask for like a servent. Oh no no~

Remember, he's the one in control here. He's the one knuckle deep in your sweet cunny.

Be mindful of what you say to him.

If you're uptight, he's going to have a lot of fun breaking you.

He's going to make you utter every dirty desire in that sweet little heart of yours. Make you voice everything you want him to do to you. Every detail. How you want him to hold you. How you want him to sink his teeth into you like you're his prey. How you want him to shove another one of his fingers in. How you want him to fuck his fingers into you faster. How you can't take it anymore. How it's all too much for you. How you don't want him to stop.

He's evil in the way he stops just as you're tethering on the edge of falling apart, the coil in your lower tummy getting so tight that it's about to burst.

He's got the tongue of a serpent. Cooing at you, telling you that he'll let you come this time as he rubs in slow deliberate circles on your little twitching nub. You know he's lying and yet you fall for it every time.

He holds your cute little face in his hands as he licks your fat tears off your blushy cheeks, bullying his cock into your abused pussy as you keep sobbing and begging him to finally, to just please let you come.

And let you come he does. He doesn't stop until all you can remember is his name. Until you're babbling incoherent half sentences, cross-eyed and oh so pretty. He doesn't relent until you've drenched his torso, thighs and the sheets under you in your release.

*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*

𝙸 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚍𝚘 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚋𝚢 𝙼𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠.

𝙰𝚕𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.. . 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞. :)