#I crush romantics and I devour masculinity

[oldxenomorph]

04. what non-sexual act of foreplay most turns them on? 05. what are the top kinks that your muse enjoys? 06. what are some/a kink that your muse wants to explore? 11. what is your muses favourite, or most favoured, position/s? 16. how vocal is your muse when intimate? 20. has your muse ever indulged in the use of restraints; whether using them on someone or themselves? 😇

intimate + sexual headcanon questions

Placing my answers under a mature label and cut because they are, dare I say, a little spicy. Hehehe.

4. What non-sexual act of foreplay most turns them on?

Nyx loves the Emperor's voice. The deep, machine voice, abyssal, cold, teeth-rattling, bone-shattering; the sound of annihilation, a supermassive black hole; devouring, consuming, the end of everything condensed by crushing gravity into soundwaves. She loves to listen to the Emperor speak to her in Greek (she can speak to her in both the Ancient and Modern forms of the language), but especially R'lyehian. Nyx learned the language of the Great Family from her earliest years with the Emperor, when the universe was still new. It is the first language of the Emperor, her mother tongue. The Emperor uses R’lyehian in their most intimate moments, when she’s being romantic, or when she wants to speak to her and only her.

The Emperor is easily aroused just by Nyx touching her, showing possession over her: a hand on her thigh when they sit next to each other, a hand sneaking underneath the Emperor’s robes to hold her body close, the way she holds one of her hands, the way she touches her face, even the way she looks at her. She loves being in her wife’s presence, just standing next to her takes all of her self-control to not immediately pull her into her arms and begin kissing her. (Nyx will tell you that it doesn’t take long for that self-control to start disappearing because the Emperor can’t resist discreetly slipping one of her tentacles underneath her dress.) Also, Nyx’s voice and laugh makes the Emperor melt.

5. What are the top kinks that your muse enjoys?

Nyx obviously enjoys the Emperor’s tentacles the most. How fortuitous that her soulmate has two forms with a total of eighteen (18) large tentacles for her to take pleasure in, and how lovely to have a wife with tentacles who is so eager to use them for her pleasure. The goddess also likes marking the Emperor with her violet lipstick, all over her neck and face, even her chest. Symbolic jewelry is another thing that she particularly likes; after all, she made the Emperor a special pair of earrings, because a wedding ring was not enough. Nyx needs everyone who looks upon the Emperor to know that she belongs to her, the Eternal Night.

The Emperor loves to worship Nyx’s body, every inch and every atom, a vision of the night’s wealth of stars, its darkness, its beauty. She is usually pretty amenable to whatever Nyx likes and whatever she wants to do; her greatest joy is loving and pleasuring her wife, ensuring that she is happy and satisfied. Especially loves it when Nyx only has her jewelry on: the stars and jewel of darkness on her forehead, her necklace and all the jewels that hang off it that frame her breasts, her beautiful earrings, her hairpins, her armbands, the rings on her fingers. She loves all of Nyx’s softness and curves, she loves to kiss her and touch her and when her hands are occupied, her tentacles continue to touch her wherever she wants.

Nyx loves the Emperor's size, how tall she is, her defined and masculine build. She loves her wife’s anatomy, her biomechanical exterior and all the horror that exists beneath it, but she especially loves how it feels against her soft skin. The ridges and texture when they touch her most sensitive areas elicit arousal in the goddess; she loves riding the Emperor’s thigh while the other is sitting on her throne in the core of the Ziggurat. (And the Emperor enjoys watching Nyx bring herself pleasure, her tentacles helping her as she rides her thigh.) She loves the Emperor's true form, loves to take her place amongst her long, biomechanical centipede body, tended to by many sets of hands, and large tentacles while she is kissed and worshipped.

Tentacles, body worship, and size are kinks the two of them enjoy the most.

Honorable mention: Nyx loves feeding the Emperor stars and likes watching her eat gore. She gets aroused seeing the tentacles that emerge from the entity’s mouth to devour stars, oil black appendages slick with the blessed tar, the Emperor’s dark material; the same tentacles drenched in annihilation are the same ones that slip inside her when the Emperor pleasures her with her mouth. And the Emperor enjoys being fed stars and gore, because even when she is full, she still has room to worship her wife.

5. What are some/a kink that your muse wants to explore?

Not a kink, per say, more like a fantasy: Nyx has always wanted to have sex with her wife inside Harbinger. The First Reaper is another shape of the Emperor herself, it was shaped by Azathoth using her dark material, her blood, her soul. Nyx has never been inside a Reaper and she would never go inside one on her own, but there is also something deeply arousing about being completely surrounded by the Emperor: the cold air, the darkness, the sound of the core, the heavy gravity. The goddess often thinks about being touched by the Emperor's tentacles while inside Harbinger, what the sounds of their mutual pleasure would be like within its terrifying hull. She wants to ride the Emperor inside the first ship made from her blessed, pitch black essence, the Night fully and completely claiming Extinction in all her shapes, all her forms.

The Emperor’s very protective of Harbinger, but she also can’t refuse her soulmate’s wishes. It’ll happen soon.

For the Emperor, she’s always wanted to have sex with Nyx in front of the Mirror of Night. She’s always thought the mirror was so beautiful and powerful just like its creator, it ought to be in the bedchambers she shares with Nyx in the Ziggurat. It belongs near their bed, where she can see all the angles and curves of her wife in its deep reflection, admiring her naked form and her beauty amongst the shimmering stars and the violet light from jewels of darkness in the clutches of bronze skeletons. She knows that the Mirror is part of Nyx, made from and infused with her darkness and love; it pulses with a dark allure much like the goddess that crafted it. Very often The Emperor thinks about watching her wife ride her in the mirror, or having Nyx watch the mirror as her tentacles curl around her and pleasure her. Made one and whole, claimed fully and entirely within the infinite dark.

She just has to find a way to get Zagreus to hand it over.

11. What is your muses’ favorite, or most favored, position/s?

Most of the Emperor’s favorite positions are mostly due to her size because she has to be comfortable in order to make sure she can give Nyx her full attention. (For reference: her normal Reaper Emperor shape is 10ft, her true shape in the Black Palace is 30ft, Nyx is 8’6”ft.) The Emperor is very much aware of her size, how heavy her bodies are, and their effect on her wife; it would devastate her if Nyx was ever uncomfortable or hurt while they’re intimate. That’s why she greatly prefers Nyx to be on top, as she sees her body as an instrument for her wife’s pleasure and adores that she’s the more dominant one. Her tentacles don't hurt when she's laying down, they can shift themselves to be flush against her back. (It amuses Nyx that both of the Emperor's forms require the maximum amount of pillows and cushions.) Although any position that allows the Emperor to give Nyx the dark material inside her is a favored one; any position that ensures that her wife is satisfied and full of the black tar, darkness and annihilation filling her core and veins.

Nyx loves riding the Emperor, claiming her, making the great entity hers. Since the beginning, she has climbed on top of the Emperor’s body, straddled her, and ridden her to the brink of madness. She loves being able to look down and admire her beloved's state, at the way she's consumed by desire and lust. Whenever they find a secret place in the Ziggurat or the Underworld, Nyx loves it when the Emperor pushes violet silks over her hips and takes her from behind, where she sinks herself into the goddess and claims her. Or when the Emperor pulls her down into her lap, her hands and tentacles slipping underneath her dress to touch her, to hold her, feel all of her while she rocks into her. She loves her wife’s eagerness, any position that allows her to be devoured and worshipped and filled by the Emperor is a favored one. Nyx doesn’t much care for missionary except for when the Princes of Entropy were conceived in the Black Palace and the times when the Emperor lifts her onto her glass desk in her office and they fuck on top of a projection of the Milky Way.

16. How vocal is your muse when intimate?

As mentioned before, they both love each other’s voices. The Emperor loves Nyx’s voice, loves to be praised by the goddess, loves to be told how beautiful she is, how handsome she is, how big she is, how she belongs to her, “Extinction”, “my beautiful Emperor”, “my lovely Emperor”, “my beloved”. She loves hearing Nyx’s sighs and moans, the way she commands her to go deeper, harder; claim her, fuck her, to fill her, she trusts her, she loves her. Nyx’s voice is ethereal, the sound of the great expanse of night, elegant even when consumed by lust, drenched in desire. Sometimes, when her orgasm is so intense, Nyx will moan the Emperor’s true name. She loves the way the goddess praises her, the way she rewards her with affirmations and kisses.

Nyx gets aroused so easily by the Emperor's voice, when they are intimate she just melts in her wife's arms. She loves hearing the Emperor call her “My Nyx”, “My goddess”, “my beautiful Nyx”, “my Eternal Night”. Oftentimes when lust floods the Emperor’s system and consumes her insides as she nears her climax, she reverts to R’lyehian. The Emperor tells her how beautiful she is, how divine she feels, how she worships her. It takes all of Nyx’s strength not to climax early when the Emperor tells her, in R’lyehian, that she wants to fill her with her black tar. However, as much as she loves sweet words, she loves the sounds she’s able to pull out of the Emperor, the low moans and deep, rumbling groans during those surges of pleasure.

20. has your muse ever indulged in the use of restraints; whether using them on someone or themselves?

The Emperor is more than happy to let Nyx tie her up: her upper body captured in black ropes, hands behind her back, legs tucked underneath her, the rope expertly tight around the base of her tentacles, stretching across her chest and her thighs. Kneeling, sitting before her wife, her head resting in her lap, relishing in the softness of her flesh and the silks she wears, the cool temperature of her hands, breathing in the scent of her lavender perfume. She loves the way the goddess holds her head, rewarding her with kisses, a low hum escaping her as her wife coaxes out her arousal and brings her to a low ache. She belongs to Nyx.

[salmonellaandcheese]

Tag Game To Better Know You!

Tagged by the lovely and talented @lady--lisa (So sorry for taking so long! I didn't forget! I just couldn't figure out a way to copy all the questions easily on mobile)

If you saw the first version of this no u didnt

What book are you currently reading?

I'm halfway through Anne of Avolea by L.M Montgomery and a few chapters into the Colour of Magic by Terry Pratchett. I really should read more, I used to devour books back when I was a kid, but the library I volunteer at is based on community requests so its almost entirely formulaic ghostwritten thrillers (curse you James Pattison). If anyone has book recommendations let me know!

What’s your favourite movie you saw in theatres this year?

I think the only movie I saw was the new Top Gun, which I only watched because my mum loves the original and we went for her birthday. I wouldn't say its fantastic, but I did end up infodumping to my friends about propaganda and pop culture.

What do you usually wear?

Usually loose jeans or other sturdy pants and some variety of print t-shirt with my red flannel. Anxiety kind of made it into my uni uniform, I never thought I'd miss my high school uniform that much. When I'm at home I'm usually wearing shorts and an old singlet that I got in grade 8 or something. Winter means I get to wear big jumpers! I have this horrifically ugly one on it that says New Zealand with a red kiwi on it, I adore it. If I'm reaching out of my miniscule comfort zone I'll wear a funky button up or a more form fitting shirt, I've always dressed quite modestly (although not entirely by choice) and this year I cut my hair off and started to explore my masculinity and being openly and visibly queer. I pretty much only wear natural fibres and very practial/sensory friendly clothing, so most of my clothes are made to last and will be repaired until I deign them unwearable.

Fun fact, I used to actually dress in a style I'd say is somewhere between classic lolita and cottagecore, lots of pinafores and frilly shirts and ribbons. Next year I'd like to step out of my comfort zone and dress in any way that sparks joy, maybe experiment with makeup, different styles or more revealing clothing (ooh a shoulder, scandalous).

How tall are you?

I'm actually not quite sure, between 165cm and 170cm I think (5'5" to 5'7")

What’s your Star Sign? Do you share a birthday with a celebrity or a historical event?

Gemini

Do you go by your name or a nick-name?

I introduce myself with my name but with hopes that I'll get a nickname, I've always wanted one.

Did you grow up to become what you wanted to be when you were a child?

I'm still in uni but by a technicality yes? I wanted to be a scientist but came to dislike science in high school, but now I'm doing archeology (and history) through an arts degree but I could do it through a science degree. I did really enjoy digging in the dirt as a child, so I think little me would be happy about that, even if i was more into paleontology.

Are you in a relationship? If not, who is your crush if you have one?

No. I do have a bit of a crush on my best friend, who I turned down a year ago because I'm the stupidest person alive and can't tell the difference between friendship feelings and romantic feelings.

What’s something you’re good at vs. something you’re bad at?

I'm good with precision and detail orientated things. I love knitting and I've picked up archery and bread making recently. Its actually why I got into archaeology, I wanted to work in restoration and conservation.

I'm bad at remembering to do stuff. It's the ADHD man. Assessments? whoops. Consistent meals? Forgot. Cleaning? sorry not happening

Dogs or cats?

Dogs, I've never had a cat and don't really know how they work.

If you draw/write, or create in any way, what’s your favourite picture/favourite line/favourite etc. from something you created this year?

I knitted my best friend some lovely socks, they're my first pair of socks and my second time doing fair isle.

What’s something you would like to create content for?

Look I know this means fandom but I have to start planning for what I'm putting in the show next year, it's only 6 months away. I'd love to do some more sewing, maybe make a gunne sax style dress (provided my anxiety will let me wear it out of the house) and I want to find something technically challenging for knitting, maybe lacework? Send me knitting/crafting inspo. I was thinking of maybe picking up counted thread embroidery too (yes I hate myself).

What’s something you’re currently obsessed with?

Star Wars. I've got brain worms about it. I've been microwaving it for months. Its been on my mind constantly, yet I have no thoughts. I'm forcing all of my friends to watch it. I'm rewatching all of it. I know nothing but also everything. I'm being excessively autistic about a background character wearing a cable knit jumper.

Good thing is that it makes conversation with men under 25 incredibly easy. I've made industry connections over a conversation about Lego Star Wars.

What’s something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year?

Uhhhhhh. My uni's archaeology society? The history society raised my standards high, they do a lot of fun events, whereas the archaeology one is useful but a lot more industry training and connections focused instead of having regular pizza and power-point nights like the history one.

What’s a hidden talent of yours?

Hmm. I'm not too sure. I can flip an egg without using anything other than the pan, does that count? Like just wiggle, wiggle, throw it up in the air and catch it.

Are you religious?    

Catholic but in a cool and funky queer way

What’s something you wish to have at this moment?

A concrete plan of what the hell I'm doing and how to do it. A solution to my joint pain?

Tagging: (only if you want to) @elprupneerg @rights-for-redshirts @doveyluvey @notaghost3 @swagtalia @radioactivehydronerd @hetaari @arthoe-iceland @ratfish-blues and anyone else who sees this is welcome to join in!

[bigteefsmallbrain]

General Soul Eater HCs please

Soul Eater: General headcanons

Death the Kid:

He’s an art critic

Hear me out

He is obsessed with symmetry, and loves the beauty in it

So when he sees something non-symmetrical, especially in art, he can’t help but to critique it

May go as far as to send a personal letter to the artist (If they’re alive) about how offensive it is that they created something so asymmetrical

If he can’t send a letter to the artist, he’ll send one to the owner/museum and request it be taken down, while listing reasons why it’s horrible.

Anything he writes has an even amount of letters and words

Be that his test answers

Essays

Letters

Diary entry

Speaking of diary entries, he definitely has one

But it’s actually just a catalogue of symmetrical things he’s seen

He puts photos into it and writes about how beautiful it was to see

He doesn’t care what it is much, just that it was beautiful

Meaning he takes photos of people too

Which can be unnerving at times

He’s probably taken a photography class before, or at the very least is self taught

Literally has a photo album of things he views are beautiful, but non symmetrical and he would die if anyone found it

Like a particular sunset with uneven hills

Or a flower with one too many petals

Definitely has an 8 ball, not a magic one, just an 8 ball, it’s placed on a velvet pillow in his room and he frequently polishes it

Elizabeth Thompson:

Makes several backup plans as a way to cope

Especially after dealing with an experience with a ghost

She has notebooks full of them, labeled and detailed

At one point she started putting them in alphabetical order but stopped immediately when she realized Kid’s perfectionist habits were rubbing off on her

She practices acting in the mirror

Usually so she can charm a man into dating her

But also to con people

She used to be a “Street rat” and that thought of ending up on the streets again constantly plagues her mind

She takes full advantage of the “Rich life”

Shopping sprees

Quality makeup

Salons and spa days

The works

She lets Patty’s thought that she knows everything get to her head

The fact alone that her sister believes in her that much is enough to make her a bit egotistical

And Patty’s admiration for the girl makes it ten times worse

She literally doesn’t care if she ends up being wrong because she’ll just be right next time anyways

So stubborn in that aspect

Patricia Thompson:

She likes dark humor

You can’t convince me otherwise, you actually can’t, I have evidence

She made an origami Giraffe, and broke its neck

Laughed when Kid said he “wants to die”

She literally pokes him with a stick when he’s depressed

She likes dark humor, and probably looks up jokes to tell others just for kicks

She’s secretly sadistic, and likes scaring her sister and others

She may act naïve and innocent, but she is anything but

She definitely has, more than once, banged on Liz’s door at 3AM just to hear her sister squeal like a little girl

Honestly, she probably purposefully gets their pose wrong, just to see her sisters annoyance and laugh when Kid gets smacked

She likes origami

Probably first got into it because of the paper ninja stars

Then just found it relaxing

She most likely makes the ninja stars mostly, and keeps a box of her origami creations somewhere

Has in the past, and will not hesitate to do so again, beat someone up for kicks or just to destress

Patty has two faces, the childlike innocent one, and the insane anger one

So it’s not too far fetched to say that she’ll hide her anger till she can corner someone alone and beat them up

Or that she gets bored and decides to do so

I wouldn’t be too surprised if her sister occasionally joined as well

Maka Albarn:

She’s a Harry Potter nerd and you can’t convince me otherwise

She loves the concept of magic

Loves the dynamic between Ron and Hermione, though feels a bit of Deja vu thinking about it

Probably used to write fanfiction, but in a way that made it seem like it was actually part of the story

She will hit you if you mention it

Definitely the type to compare books to their movie counterparts

Not in like, a critic way, but she will definitely rant about the differences, or how a character looks exactly like she imagined, or if they didn’t put in a particular scene she liked in the book

Forces Soul into movie nights, but it’s only the movie counterparts to her books

I can see her forcing everyone into a group study session

Be super organized about it, and setting it up in a way so that no one can refuse

She probably has specific ways for everyone to study

Like having Black☆Star work out while studying so he retains the knowledge better

Or setting up the session in a symmetrical way so Kid doesn’t freak out about it

She writes letters to her mom, as a coping mechanism for when her emotions get to be a little too much

Like when she’s having a bad day

Or if she’s particularly peeved at something Soul did

She writes a lot more letters when it comes around the time of her mom's birthday or death anniversary

She likes the thought of an old timey romance, and often listens to songs that give off that kind of feel

She really likes “It’s Been a Long, Long Time”, it’s one of her favorites

She also likes the old Disney songs, like “Once Upon a Dream” and “So This Is Love”

She would be so embarrassed if anyone found out though, especially if it was her dad or Soul

She isn’t quite sure why she’s so worried about Soul finding out though

Speaking of, she half realizes, half doesn’t with anyone's romantic feelings, including her own

She’ll fantasize about getting a love letter or having someone present her with a bouquet of roses

But if it actually happens she’s like “Oh, thanks friend!”

She knows the behaviors, she just can’t put two and two together

They would have to be extremely blunt, no over dramatic confession, just “I’m in love with you and want to be romantically involved with you”

She reads dictionaries for fun

She really likes to read out of date dictionaries, just to see what words and slang existed back then

She also highlights words she likes and uses them frequently on accident

She has most definitely yelled “I have cupid’s kettlebells*! I’m not flat!” at Soul before

Soul Evans:

Bottles. Up. His. Emotions.

He’s influenced by “toxic masculinity” and fully believes that being vulnerable in a serious way “isn’t cool”

He will bottle everything up so deep down inside that it seems impossible for it to surface

Feelings of inferiority to others? Bottled

Want to cry or break down? Nope, gotta be cool

Started crying in front of someone and can’t stop? He’s not crying, you’re clearly blind

Speaking of crying, once he starts, and I mean genuinely starts, it’s so hard to get him to calm down, and even then the tears don’t stop

Sometimes he’ll start to freak out and send himself into a panic attack because the tears just won’t stop

He’s that influenced by the thought of being vulnerable

On a lighter note, he does adore playing the piano, but the only person he’ll play for is Maka

He swears it’s not favoritism, and it’s partially true, but favoritism does play a large role in it

He frequently drags Maka to his room to show her a new piece he put together

And if he notices her feeling a little down that day, he’ll start playing a song that he knows she likes

He definitely knows about her love for old timey romance songs and is very embarrassed to admit a lot of the pieces he constructs are based off of that

The walls are p a p e r t h i n , he can hear her music through the walls

He secretly finds it adorable when he catches her listening to it because she’ll be dancing around to it

He also frequently finds himself thinking about those moments

He’s the stereotype that parents tell little girls about, with how boys will bully their crush

He’s a lot more playful and easy going, but still teases Maka, so much

Unlike Maka, he’s fully aware of his feelings, and acknowledges them, but bottles it up, only letting himself entertain the thought every once in a while

He jabs at Maka’s lack of “Cupids Kettlebells” as a way to try and ensure she won’t fall for him, because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if she does

He reads the same dictionaries that Maka does, not for fun, but so he can know just what the actual h e l l she’s saying

More than once he’s had to look up a particular word or phrase online because he can’t find it in the dictionary

“What the hell? It’s an old Victorian saying!? Where does she keep finding this stuff!?”

Subconsciously, as time goes on, he starts using old phrases as well, he was so embarrassed the first time he got caught saying “Keep your idle daddles* off of her!” when defending someone from a perv.

Black☆Star:

Is so unbelievably selfish with food

It’s not even funny

He will stab someone if they reach for his food

He surprisingly eats healthy most of the time though?

Says something like “I have to otherwise I’ll never surpass the gods!”

The only person who could ever p o s s i b l y steal his food is Tsubaki, but even that’s pushing it

He has the weirdest dreams, and I mean weird

Dreams like being turned into a potato and being cooked, mashed, and devoured by Tsubaki herself

He didn’t talk to her for a week after that dream, and refused to eat potatoes for a full year because “You never know if it could be a person turned into a potato!”

He was also very offended when Tsubaki ate potatoes during that time period

He takes things very literally

Like up above, if someone does something in a dream, he acts like it was real

Or if someone makes a joke about fighting, he will drag them outside to fight

He’s secretly scared of Tsubaki

But it’s for literally the stupidest reason

And he fully believes that because of it she could fight god and win

She used to have a pet cockroach

One of the flying ones

And he is so unbelievably scared of them, because for some reason they just don’t die, and they have w i n g s

So the fact she owned one as a pet scares him so bad even though it was literally for only a week

He has a soft spot for children

He doesn’t really know why

He just does

Is secretly really good with kids

Literally the definition of dad material

He has his flaws but still

Little kids are the only people who could steal his food and get away with it

Every. Time. and it makes the others so mad

Tsubaki Nakatsukasa:

What can I say, she’s perfect

She probably receives love letters

Reads them over when she’s feeling sad

Likes to keep them in a shoebox she painted

She definitely paints to unwind and relax

Likes to go outside and paint the sunrise/sunset

Takes note of beautiful scenery so she can come back in her free time and paint it

She probably draws/sketches too

Carries a sketchbook with her

More than likely has drawn Black☆Star doing something

Like napping or training

She’d never show him though, too scared of inflating his ego or giving him the wrong idea

Stress bakes/cooks

We know she cooks

Liz took advantage of it and pretended Tsubaki’s cooking was her own

So we know she does

Sometimes painting/drawing doesn’t cut it

So she heads to the kitchen and bakes away her worries and unwinds

The main reason Tsubaki would possibly be spared from Black☆Star’s stabbing habit with food is because she cooks all the meals

She makes sure everyone is comfortable around her

She’ll go as far as to learn someone's customs and practice cooking their unique cuisine just to make sure that they feel comfortable and safe in her presence

She radiates mom friend energy

She’s perfect mom material, perfect wife material, perfect in general honestly

*Cupid's Kettlebells is a old term for a woman's bust

*Idle daddles is a old term for hands

I Hope you like these general headcanons for the main seven! You didn’t say which characters you’d like to see, so I played it safe by putting the main characters! Thank you for the ask!

[catloud]

Greta Gerwig is The Best One

I grew up loving, living and breathing two films: Little Women, with a wild and passionate Winona Ryder, and Emma Thompson’s Sense and Sensibility. The middle of three sisters, I saw our dynamic as a trio in both of them. We cast ourselves as these women, making our own Pickwick Papers and putting on plays in the garden, just like our beloved March sisters. My own teenage solitude revolved around moody walks in the hills near my house on a Scottish island, calling Willoughby’s name in the rain, usually to the soundtrack of Greenday or Alanis Morisette or Damien Rice.  These were the raw materials I had to craft my identity with. Sisters. Sisterhood. Love. Passion. Power. Freedom.

And, just as I was conditioned to pick a favourite Spice Girl or colour of Starburst, I immediately made Jo and Marianne my respective LW and S&S favourites. But Jo is something special. She is, after all, the patron saint of all aspiring writers and country bumpkins who move to the city for adventure. I feel that.

I know there’s something about Jo. Why did I make her The Best One?

What about Meg? Lovely Meg! Naturally maternal and equal parts severe, sensible and sweet, she gracefully bears the burdens of societal pressure and familial responsibility as the pioneering eldest child, while also taking responsibility for wrangling her more wayward sisters. She is a Mini Marmee, and lord knows we all love Marmee.

Or gentle Beth, wistful and musical, always striving to keep the peace between more the more overwhelming personalities within the household, and trying to make the world a better place for those less fortunate in times of extreme uncertainty. She loves everyone and everyone loves her.

Or Amy?  Artistic and refined Amy, who matches Jo in talent and strength of will but is a thousand times more socially savvy. She makes the rules of the world (for women like her) work as she intuitively knows how to wield and tame them, while Jo fights them kicking and screaming all the way.

The March sisters are timeless because they pose a question that has refused to leave me alone – what am I supposed to want? Jo is our natural Girl Power era heroine. She is all of the great feminist moments in one person. She’s Jane Fonda getting arrested at a protest. She’s telling a mansplainer to shut the fuck up. She’s not taking “because you’re a woman” for an answer, ever.

She’s wild and proud, recklessly emotional and deeply ambitious. And there it is. Ambition. The most masculine of fatal flaws that is at first admirable before it devours everything in its path, stopping at nothing till the whole world has been swallowed and spat out again.

We can’t all be Jos. Stoking and sustaining that level of craving and chasing is absolutely exhausting. And when what you want comes to you, and comes crashing down again because nothing is forever, then you’ll see the holes left behind. Creative projects and the pursuit of the next thing can be Polyfilla for the gaping, untreated hole left by perpetual loneliness. No one wants to look into its mouth for long, and so the great cycle begins again.

And I think about this now, because Hollywood’s Remake Olympics feels necessary this time. I need to see Jo again.

I find myself thirty, solo and skint. I have yet to find a like-minded soul who is more Alcott’s Laurie and less Austen’s Willoughby, and I’ve spent most of my twenties pursuing a career that I have loved but I’m convinced hasn’t loved me. I’ve hunted opportunities, scraped by when cash was tight with a knot in my stomach and instead of chasing something brilliant and wonderful, I have been obsessed with not failing. Failing isn’t an option. I don’t know what else to be instead.

Why was my hometown not enough?

Why did I have to want more?

These questions are Greta Gerwig’s territory, an artist who has made herself very much at home with stories about women at crossroads who sense good things on the horizon, but struggle to get their bearings. She is an artist I watch with so much strange pride, horrified that so few women are staking claims and taking names in a director’s chair and yet, there she is. There she has been, for years.  

As a writer and as a performer, Gerwig understands how painful it is to be in a perpetual state of becoming. Frances Ha - the 2012 film she starred in and co-wrote with director Noah Baumbach - is a masterpiece.  I resisted watching it for years, because I was scared of seeing myself in it. I was right, but I didn’t need to be scared. It’s filled with the same mundane intimacy in Little Women - girls sitting in bed together, making plans for a big, varied, wild life. Gerwig and Alcott write love stories about wanting to love life and have life love you back. Her eponymous character is the earnest, awkward and mis-stepping heart of a film that scrambles up the crushing economic realities of modern life with whimsical and chic French New Wave aesthetics, adding glimmers of Fame and Footloose for fun. “Scrambling” is the most appropriate adjective for her. A precariously-employed dancer, she tells successful and self-assured best friend Sophie in the film’s deeply intimate opening montage “I tried to make a frittata and it’s really more of a scramble”.  And we all know you can’t make an omelette without cracking eggs. They feature again in her Oscar-nominated and Golden Globe-winning Lady Bird. Arguing with her mother, Saorise Ronan’s Christine/ Lady Bird asks why she can’t cook breakfast, to which the excellent Laurie Metcalf replies “Because you take too long and make a big mess and I have to clean the whole thing up.” Eggs. Metaphors for messy lives, and a nod to the mothers we came from. The mothers!  They’re poets and they don’t even realise. I love Gerwig and Alcott’s big-hearted mothers, so afraid for wayward daughters who want more than they can provide and say things like “I didn’t raise you like this!” when they act up. When we act up. I know you didn’t, and I’m sorry.

At the helm of Lady Bird, Gerwig is even more masterful at painting sisterhood and choices with a bold intensity, coloured with vivid metaphorical visuals. Juxtaposing the joy of a first kiss with a hushed conversation about tight finances gives economic hardship and anxiety the same weight in the drama as romantic entanglements. Lady Bird’s mother is often visibly crushed by her daughter’s ungrateful and embarrassed recognition that they aren’t wealthy, and “wrong side of the tracks” cliches are shown to be careless, throw away words for painful and inescapable realities. Gerwig crafts anxious and relatable narratives around being economically downtrodden and feeling less sure-footed in the face of those who have hit certain milestones. Her work is peppered with the many little audacious deceptions we pull off that conceal deep-rooted despair; the greater truths can be reached when we take sex out of the equation, or throw it in; the sorrow of being left behind. But she always gives us joy, too. Writing the names of boys we love on the wall and painting over them when don’t anymore.  Going to view houses, trying on other lives for fun, because it’s wonderful and poignant to deliberately get lost in the woods to simply feel every now and then.  

She makes me nostalgic for that particular sweet spot in my adolescence. There is so much I hated about being a teenager, but I was restless and hungry and I miss that person. I still want to believe that the world is full and vibrant, and that I deserve a slice of it nut sometimes I fear that I will never feel brave or excited again. But Gerwig is familiar with this feeling and Little Women, in essence, explores all of these fears. Her films show women living their lives differently and overcoming the battles that ensue, and this makes her the perfect wrangler for the March sisters, each with their own diverging life paths but all of them equally valid.

Of course, to call it an exploration of modern feminism isn’t wholly true. Feminism that isn’t intersectional isn’t feminism and Little Women as a historical piece is incredibly white and heteronormative. But, there are lessons to be learned about what being a woman today looks like. It takes guts to be a mother and raise children, or to pursue the life you desire even if it takes you thousands of miles from what you know and who you love. She understands that choosing a creative career - and continuing to choose it in the face of all its difficulties – is to peer into the lion’s mouth. Her films have a simmering undercurrent that points a finger directly at the harsh reality and unspoken acceptance that art is for the rich, and the pursuit of culture indicates a sense of superiority or reaching above station. And it will always take courage to break free from expectations, even if those expectations come from the people you love most.

I refuse to pick a favourite this time.

Meg March is coming home.

Beth March is your favourite album on vinyl.

Amy March is playing poker, and winning.

And Jo? Jo March is every foolish text and all sparkling, heartfelt conversations.

If I have to pick My Best One, it’s Gerwig herself. She is a storyteller who handles life’s tiny disappointments and triumphs like precious ornaments. She is a master of making mountains out of moments, of carefully handling stories that give women space to live untidily and brilliantly, of big and small rituals we do to root the person we’re becoming to the person we used to be, and to the people, places and things we’ve loved, always.

I feel safe in her hands. I couldn’t trust my March sisters to anyone less worthy, and I can’t wait to see these women I love through her imaginative, sensitive and determined eyes.

[shineebebe]

LOVE

(From an innocent crush to intense, beautiful love. The sequel to CRUSH. Fluffy Smut. Read the first part here http://shineebebe.tumblr.com/post/164753213573/crush )

“Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” 

You cheered with joy, just before your amazing boyfriend, Jooheon, crushed his soft, supple lips upon yours as huge, dazzling fireworks shot in to the sky and exploded in to tiny diamonds. You were on cloud nine; getting to spend the next year with the love of your life was something you only dreamed of. Jooheon’s hands rested softly on your hips as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, allowing yourself to sink dangerously deep in to his embrace. Giggling in to the romantic kiss, you felt his charming smile upon your lips, no doubt his adorable dimples were on full display. 

“Happy New Year my love.” 

He uttered gently, gazing at you like you were his entire world. At Kihyun’s party, with everyone standing around you to watch the fireworks, it was just you and Jooheon in your own magical bubble of love. 

“Hey Jooheonie! Maybe this year you’ll finally bang her!” 

Hoseok cried with a soju in his hand, obviously merry from the heavy drinking. He appeared to be holding up an even more drunken Hyungwon who laughed obnoxiously loud at Hoseok’s remark. 

“Hoseok Lee! That’s none of your business!” 

You playfully hit his shoulder, scolding the secretly sensitive man. 

“And you, Hyungwonie! You’re better than that.” 

Hyungwon’s eyes widened, suddenly feeling ashamed at his state. 

When the two of them apologised and went to find Kihyun, you felt your face blush all over. Luckily, in the dark of the night, only Jooheon sensed your embarrassment. Hoseok was right about the two of you not having sex. The night you and Jooheon found out about your feelings for each other, he insisted on not having sex until he’d dated the hell out of you and made you feel like a princess; that he did, every day of your life. Yet, even after becoming official, Jooheon still felt hesitant about going the whole way, wanting the moment to be absolutely perfect. You couldn’t look Jooheon in the eyes, thinking about how much you wanted him made it hard to breathe. His finger sweetly lifted your chin, making you look up in to his gorgeous, breath taking eyes. He was smiling warmly while studying your face, needing to know what was going through your hectic mind. The moment you bit down on your lower lip and squeezed your thighs together tightly, he knew exactly what his girlfriend wanted. 

“Tired, baby?” 

He asked, his hands moving from your hips to your lower back. You tried to hide your slight gasp. You shook your head. No, you were incredibly far from tired. Jooheon chuckled; knowing what you were in the mood for more than anyone and that night, he was so determined on making it a night to remember.

“Home time, Princess.” 

Jooheon eased your coat from your shoulders so slowly that you could cut the sexual tension in the air with a knife. Feeling his eyes on your figure made your pulse race so fast that you had to take deep breaths to steady yourself. You stayed over at Jooheon’s place all the time but now that there was a sensual atmosphere buzzing around you, the place seemed different than before, warmer and inviting. 

“What do you want to do baby? Movie? Something to eat? Tell me.” 

He said, his voice deep, his eyes locked on yours. The man played a hard game. The ache to bite your lip arose again, his fingers fiddling with the belt hooks on your jeans. 

“Jooheonie...” 

The right words were so hard to find. 

“You know what I want, don’t you?” 

The desperation was obvious in your voice. 

Jooheon’s eyes widened just a little before he nodded slowly, running his tongue over his lower lip. You noticed his chest puff out and sink in again like the glittering waves of the ocean; he felt the burning desire too. 

“I do. But I need to hear it from you so I know it’s what you really want.” 

He replied and to his surprise, you laughed. It was just bizarre to you how the incredible man still wasn’t a hundred percent sure you wanted to have sex with him after the thousands of times you begged him to make love to you. You put your hand to your forehead with frustration. 

“Fuck, Jooheon. I thought I made it so clear it’s what I want.” 

You groaned, the throbbing in between your legs was making your brain so foggy. You didn’t know what to feel. 

“Baby, please, don’t be angry with me.” 

“I’m not a...”

“I love you.” 

He stated so bluntly that it almost knocked you off your feet. Your jaw dropped to the floor, your heart thudding against your chest. You were in total disbelief; did he really say that? 

“I love you so much and I don’t want to ruin anything or do this if you don’t feel the...” 

It was your turn to cut off his ramble. You placed your finger against his lips. He didn’t need to say any more. 

“I love you Jooheon. You’re my world. You’re everything to me.” 

You meant every single thing that came out of your mouth. It was clear that the two of you were on the same page the whole time you’d been together and Jooheon had never felt so happy in his entire life. Since the moment you first pressed your lips on his, he imagined this moment; he couldn’t think of a better way to go in to the new year. Jooheon’s lips moved close to your ear, his hands moving to your behind. Your arousal was driving you insane. 

“Then allow me to rip your clothes off.” 

You squealed as you landed on to the bed, only to be silenced with a hard kiss that was impossible to resist. Instantly, your hands ran over his silver hair, grabbing fistfuls of it as you wrapped your legs around his lower back. You moaned deeply in to the kiss, feeling his hard erection press against your crotch. 

“Jooheon.” 

You managed to pant his name through heavy breaths as his puffy lips trailed sloppily from your mouth to your neck. He knew your sensitive spot before you’d figured it out yourself. For him, you were weak and needy and now Jooheon that knew that you loved him, he took full advantage of owning your heart. 

“My sweet Princess.” 

He rasped, feeling himself getting rock solid; listening to your mewls and whimpers was heaven to his ears. You could feel the hickeys spreading across your neck as you moved your head to the side to give him better access, not caring about the purple bruises. To you, anything that showed your love was perfect. All of a sudden, you became distracted by your boyfriends hands grabbing the fabric of your sparkling shirt. You sat up and raised your arms, allowing him to remove the item of clothing. He threw it on to the floor like he couldn’t wait to get rid of it, eager to see your beautiful body. Jooheon’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull, feasting on your voluptuous mounds that sat perfectly in your bra. He scattered steamy, long kisses across your chest before nuzzling in to the dip of your cleavage. You could only bite your lip and roll your head back in pleasure. His lips sent you in to a trance. He was perfect. Jooheon looked angelic, his stunning bangs falling over his forehead as he moved down the bed. You felt shy, feeling his lips kissing your stomach gently. 

“Jooheon, please.” 

You tried to move him away from your most insecure area but he insisted on pleasuring every part of you. He shook his head. 

“Baby. We talked about this. Your stomach is beautiful. Every part of you is so damn beautiful.”

With glazed eyes, you watched him kiss your navel as his fingers hooked around the waist band of your skinny jeans. Jooheon pulled them down your legs, his eyes devouring your luscious thighs. He tried to hide his smirk when he realised your panties matched your bra. 

“Oh baby. You still surprise me.” 

His tongue brushed across his lower lip, seeing you in a thong was something he only had wet dreams about at night. You couldn’t help but blush. It was true; you were always hoping to get lucky. Jooheon reached over to un-clip your bra but you placed your hands on his chest to stop him. It was your turn to worship him. His lustful eyes fell to your lips. You met his desires by stealing a demanding kiss. Straddling your god of a boyfriend, you passionately grabbed his hair as his tongue teased yours sensually. The way you rubbed your crotch upon his erection made him sweat. He was about to pop out of his jeans at any second; he’d never been so turned on before. Deep inside of him, he knew why he’d only ever felt this way with you; he loved you with every inch of his being. It was your turn to take his shirt off. It was crazy how a simple black T shirt made him look so sexy and masculine. His muscles flexed as he raised his arms for you. He was a gorgeous specimen. 

“You’re so fucking handsome Jooheon Lee.” 

You whispered in his ear, your fingers gently and slowly trailing down his bare chest, giving him goosebumps all over his body. Taking charge, you pushed your boyfriend down on the bed and got to work with dragging his jeans down his muscular, strong thighs; the thighs that had you so wet every time you thought of them. His erection in his boxers stunned you. Fully erect, his cheeks turned bright red. 

“My turn.” 

You uttered, thinking of the first time you wanted to taste him. He wouldn’t allow you because you were tired but this time, he was all yours. It was the first time you’d seen him fully naked. What a sight he was, desperate for your touch. The tip of his manhood glistened with a glossy clear liquid. Your mouth watered at his thick member. He mewled at the sensation of your tongue on his sensitive head. He tasted musky, salty with an underlying sweetness. His hands reached for your hair as you allowed his member to slide deeper in to your mouth. He couldn’t take his eyes away from you; watching you take his cock as deep as you could in to your mouth was the most arousing thing he’d ever seen. Your mouth felt so warm and silky and the way you used your hand to jerk him while you sucked him was taking him to the depths of euphoria. He had to grip the bed sheets to keep him sane as he screwed his eyes shut, trying his best not to explode already. Seeing him unravel because of you was an ultimate high. Your fingertips gently played with his ball sack; you needed to watch him go crazy. 

“F..fuck.” 

He stuttered as he tugged on your hair. Tears rolled down your face as you deep throated his long shaft but you didn’t care; seeing him tremble started to make you soak your panties with your juices and just when you went to suck his tip again, he lifted your chin up. His solid erection defied gravity in the air. He was a trembling mess. 

“Ride me. Please baby, please. I need to be inside you.” 

He begged, tucking your sex hair behind your ears affectionately. You reached behind you to un-clip your bra, setting your breasts free. Your nipples were already hard with arousal and Jooheon couldn’t resist taking them in his mouth, teasing them softly with his teeth. His mouth felt so good that you barely noticed your thong being pushed down your legs and thrown on to the building pile of clothes in the corner of the room. It was the moment you’d been dreaming about ever since you started to fall for the rap god. You straddled his godly thighs, gazing in to his eyes that refused to move from your dewy face. Slowly, you eased down on to him, feeling every inch of his manhood fill you. You closed your eyes, running your hands over his broad shoulders. 

“Look at me.” 

He whispered. Your eyes fluttered open to see Jooheon in such a blissful state. 

“You. Are. So. Beautiful.” 

He uttered. You felt your heart swell, your eyes water. You were so happy. Softly kissing his pink lips, you began to move slowly. His hands rested on your hips and eased you up and down, helping you pick up a rhythm that was mind blowing. You gripped Jooheon’s shoulders to steady you, the pleasure you felt made you delirious and weak to his touch. The way Jooheon tugged and kissed the delicate skin on your neck, all the way down to your shoulders made you moan so loud that the whole street could have heard you. He was so gentle yet so passionate with you. In the end, you were glad the two of you waited to share the night together. You adored him so much; he treated you like royalty and you were so blessed that he loved you too. Your juices began to dribble down his thick shaft, your delicious release bubbling in your core. Without knowing, you began to tighten around Jooheon’s manhood, squeezing him with your slick centre. Jooheon could barely handle the hold you had on him. Making you giggle, he threw you back on to the bed and pushed your legs wide apart, exposing your glistening lips to his hungry eyes. 

“Jooheonie!” 

You squealed. He didn’t give you a chance to prepare for his tongue lapping at your swollen clit; he was thirsty for your sweet, indulgent taste. He’d proven he was the king of oral already and he was desperate to keep up his reputation. Your hands ran over his boyish hair as your arched your back, confused as to whether you wanted to watch him eat you or throw a pillow over your face so he wouldn’t see you biting your lip so hard that it bruised. His tongue ran from your tight entrance to your throbbing clit, drinking you in like mature red wine. Holding your trembling legs still, his talented tongue flicked across your clit, knowing it would make you dizzy from excitement. Just when you thought you couldn’t hold your orgasm in any longer, his hard cock plunged back inside of you, making you shriek. Instantly, you dug your fingernails in to his back. He adored the way you pulled him in closer with your legs. Being in a heated tangle, the two of you sloppily kissing each others shoulders and lips was the way he wanted to be forever. 

Just when everyone was waking up to the start of the New Year, you were falling asleep in Jooheon’s warm, sexy arms. In silence, he watched as the spell of sleep dawned upon you and you couldn’t fight it any longer. Your boyfriend had given you countless orgasms; more than you could handle. He beamed, his dimples reaching his eyes.

“I love you Princess. Never let me go.” 

[hikikomori-route]

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 9: Undefinable Fantastic Objective

In the town of Vanta Guarde, USA. There lives a delivery girl named Joey Joestar, whom of which flies a plane throughout to make deliveries to faraway places, she believes that anything can be possible if you try hard enough. But with this optimism comes her secret self-hatred after witnessing the death of her own brother,  she believed herself to be the true reason of her sibling's demise.

The thing is.. she did, but she was being manipulated by a Stand user in order to kill a part of the Joestar bloodline and framing her for the crime. Her Stand is「Eleven Dimensional」which has a rather peculiar ability... The power to travel through dimensions. 「Eleven Dimensional」 can allow Joey travel across multiple universes through various means, either through technology or their own power, she can also open gaps in space to get across short distances if necessary.   So basically,「Eleven Dimensional」is very useful to Joey when she needs to deliver something very quickly. Along with Joey is her coworker and best friend Lucina "Lucy" Noriaki, she's a secretary who loves to chat with her friend and chew bubble gum, she is known to be very nerdy and a cute dork, she had been in multiple accidents in her life due to her case of bad luck. Lucy's Stand is「Chimera Soul」which has the ability to consume souls and life energy,「Chimera Soul」is a short range stand that has the power to devour the souls of any living entity that is within 5 meter range, if she so chooses Lucy can use all the souls collected combined for a very strong attack if she wanted to, but doing so releases the souls so she would rather use weak and quick attacks and only a blast of pure energy as a last resort. The only souls「Chimera Soul」will not consume are those whom of which Lucy has trust and a good relationship with.   The one who took Joey in after the girl had broken into absolute madness after the loss of her brother is a woman by the name of Sina Delfred Harley (whom of which changed her name to Joan Joestar after meeting Joey and deciding to become her "artificial grandma" to help her.) whom is also a Stand user, she is basically the cool mom friend who rides a motorbike and bakes cake, yet she does loaf around and is very tired most of the time.   Joan's Stand is「Another Mind」whom of which has the ability to manipulate any sort of liquid (Ex. Blood,  Coffee, Ink), which is also helpful if the enemy is wounded or such, then she could use「Another Mind」to her advantage and drain them of their own vital fluids.   After being freed from being chained to a wall in a dark cavern for several years, a french woman by the name of Simone-Sophie Polnareff had grown attached to the group ever since, even growing a crush on Lucy albeit keeping this romantic crush a secret since Lucy was in love with Joey Joestar. She also prefers to wear more masculine clothing. Like the others, Simone has her own Stand, this being「Emperor Road」. Her stand has the ability to get rid of friction for her to go extremely fast, although she doesn't use her own Stand for attack, she does have her own weapon of which is the rapier her ancestor used before her, she treats her Polnareff bloodline with honesty and respect. After dying and being reincarnated into the body of a dog, Marley had grown up in the nearby ghost town of Haverta as but a puppy with a Stand, she is known to be arrogant for other humans after she was cursed with being trapped inside the body of a dog for the rest of her life, that was until she had lost the last few friends she knew in Haverta at the hands of the remnants of DIO's followers, then she got REALLY pissed and teamed up with Joey and her companions. Her stand is「Arch Heaven」whom of which has the ability to fire arrows at her enemies by using her own fur, skin, and even blood as materials, although she takes a lot of damage from using this ability, Marley is fine with doing this as long as it protects her friends. The main antagonist of UFO is none other than the local dentist of the town, Diana (Pronounced "Dee-Anne-A" not "Die-Anna") Brando. Diana is a rather cruel woman who similarly to DIO has a taste for human blood, albeit not being a vampire herself, she keeps her patients' teeth in a small box in her office for some reason, saying that it's "Just a small hobby."   Her Stand is known as「Memory Pursuit」which has the ability to manipulate twilight, a mixed essence between light and darkness.「Memory Pursuit」can create, shape and manipulate twilight, mixed essence of light and darkness, this including creating knives made of pure twilight to attack her prey.   For some odd reason, she has a strange obsession with Joey, both loving her and despising her at the same time, some would even say that she was a Yandere for her. The main plot of Undeniable Fantastic Objective is for Joey to find the culprit behind her dear brother's murder.

Would you believe me if I said that this was originally a remake of Jojolion???

[mvsicbookfrxndom]

OKAY, LISTEN UP, EVERYONE, 'CAUSE I HAVE THE BEST MOTHERFLIPPING STORY EVER TO TELL YOU!!!

Here's a mental image to paint in your mind:

A socially impaired, lonely teenage girl is hiding in the bedroom she shares with her younger sister from her parents, reading fanfiction on a device she isn't supposed to be using because she's a rule-breaking savage. It's spring break, which should be really fun and awesome, but it isn't because her home life isn't really all that great. Which is why she's hiding in the bedroom she shares with her younger sister from her parents.

She isn't just reading any old fanfiction, either. She's reading Monsieur George deValier's Hetalia: Axis Powers fanfics. They transport her to a world of ubiquitously inclusive homonormativity and give her hope that true love always wins in the end, because its love. No matter what gender anyone happens to love.

Her parents would pass out if they knew what kind of scandalous stories her eyes gobble up while they converse suspiciously about whether or not their rogue daughter is slitting her wrists upstairs.

Which she isn't. She's doing something almost more painful - imagining what it would be like to come out of the closet. To openly admit to the whole world that she isn't monosexual - in fact, she's the furthest thing from it. To have more accepting parents, to have more accepting people around her in general. To not be judged, to be safe in her home instead of being cast out, abandoned. To find her one true love and be devoted forever, whatever gender they might identify as, because that couldn't matter less to her.

George deValier's works have brought to her life a new dimension she never imagined she'd discover. She wishes she could meet him - who knows if he's even a man at all? - and hug him. Tell him he's changed her life forever. Thank him for existing. If only anyone knew who he was so this could happen.

TL;DR: I love George deValier more than my own family.

There's my "setting the scene" portion of this post. Now here comes the crazy story portion!

So I'm reading Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart, the first deValier work my eyes have ever had the blessing of experiencing, and there are no words - in any of the multiple languages I am fluent in - for how much it's affected me (not even French, the most romantic language on earth).

I've probably read half of the works on fanfiction.net and AO3 combined, but nothing has come even close to this. At all. The writing is sublime, the plots intricate beyond belief, and the character development positively shocking in its detail. The dedication and talent spent on this is almost scary to think about, not to mention the research that must have taken years to complete, so the stories could be as historically accurate as humanly possible. What's the point in writing fanfiction if this is what you're up against? I'm close to giving up one of my favorite things to do in the whole world because of how shook I am, but if this is how I go down, I'll be going down happy.

Though I've been reading for hours, I've only reached chapter 5, since my eyes have been taking their time to lasciviously devour every letter and fully grasp the meaning of each delicious sentence before allowing further conquest. However, I am no less enamored by the magnificent, captivating story than when I just started it at what seems like a lifetime ago.

As I near the end of ch.5, I almost screech out loud when I read the conversation between Feli and Ludwig about the latter's fighter aircraft Greta. About a quarter of the reason why is because Ludwig just confessed that there is no special girl of his, and my angsty soul is ripping me apart because I need one of them to confess their love for the other RIGHT NOW OR ELSE I'LL DIE.

The rest of the reason is because of who appeared in my mind when I read this scene. The worst person on the planet to think about when you're reading a homoerotic fanfiction is your female ELA teacher, but that's what happened, but not for the reasons you're undoubtedly assuming.

You see, my ELA teacher's name is Mrs. Schmit.

I lose my utter shit. I'm going insane, absolutely bonkers, over the fact that my freakin' ELA teacher's name is in this book, discounting the extra T. Of all the places to find her name, of all the things to remind me of her...

So I come up with the most bloody brilliant idea in the history of the world. I screenshot this section of the book, taking way longer than needed so I can be positive there's no evidence of two men lying next to each other in a field of flowers and tall grass having a "no homo, I'm just wondering, I'm not interested in you at all" chat about their lack of girlfriends to each other by making the font super big and swiping the page up so the dropdowns can conceal Feli's obviously masculine name. By the time I'm done working my magic, the conversation is cutesy and innocent, and, most importantly, there's no mention of anything scandalous. All that's left of the passage is the Greta Schmitt joke, which I consider adorable, clever, and laugh-out-loud funny. At the very least, it's mildly amusing.

Then I send her a picture attachment with the screenshot, along with this exact message, through my school email:

"Hi, Mrs. Schmit!

"I really hope you are having a fantastic spring break so far!

"I'm just sending you this email because I was reading a story and a little part of it brought you to mind immediately (for reasons that will become obvious if you look at the file I attached). This scene was also funny, so I thought it would be something interesting to send you. Maybe it will be a source of amusement for you during this leisurely time off from school.

"Have a great rest of your break, and see you on Monday!"

And then, of course, I sign off the email with my name.

The file I attach to the email is the original screenshot I took. The picture I've attached to this post is a screenshot of that screenshot as it appeared to my teacher. It's pretty meta and rad since I screenshot-ed the screenshot at the same time of the original screenshot one day later.

They're also the same except in the picture in this post, which is the latter picture, the portrait orientation lock is on and in the bottom left hand corner the previous page arrow isn't glowing. I feel the need to point these discrepancies out because they wreak havoc on my perfectionist OCD and if they are destroying you inside as well, I want you to know that I'm aware of these mistakes and I'm incredibly sorry.

On a lighter, less soul-crushing note, what about proposing a fun drinking game? Throw back some liquid every time the word "screenshot" appears in the paragraph before the one above. You'll be sloshed by the third sentence.

Oh yeah - and if you were wondering why my phone says 1:17 WD instead of AM or PM, that's because my device's preferred language is Oromoo. WD is ante meridiem - AM.

At first I hesitate to send the email immediately, because of the indecent time of day it is - i.e. not daytime at all - and the fear that I'll really piss off Mrs. Schmit by sending her a completely unnecessary email at 2 in the morning in a week when she shouldn't bother dealing with anything having to do with her students. It's break, after all.

And if there's one thing I don't want, it's Mrs. Schmit to be annoyed by me. Even though she's very intimidating and I can't help but be extremely scared of her, she's an absolutely fantastic teacher (though I don't think she'd believe me if I told her so) and I like her a lot as a person. Thus, I don't want her deductions on me to be negative, especially since I'm pretty sure she finds me very book smart with good grades, but flighty and scatterbrained (which I am, but not in a cool way). If this rather risky email backfires, it won't improve her opinion of me at all.

Another possibility also occurs to me - what if she finds out what kind of story the picture is from? Or the story itself? It wouldn't be hard at all; it would take me two milliseconds to locate that story. I could be in deep shit, but... In that moment, it doesn't matter to me. I'd probably laugh my ass off. She'd die of shock. It would be hilarious.

To be completely honest, I don't even enjoy the story more because of the gayness, or the lust, or the sex. Meaning, it seems more taboo that a presumably straight girl is reading a mildly erotic gay fanfiction as opposed to a straight one, presumably to get a sexual high from all the possibilities and fantasies manufactured by manipulated attraction, but for me that isn't it at all. The sex isn't even a bonus. I don't mind it, but it isn't the reason I love the story so much. If anyone saw me reading it, that's what they'd automatically think, but I'm not drawn to that. I'm asexual anyway, so I'm not even planning to ever have sex. It just doesn't have that allure or even stigma for me. An example: I occasionally watch porn, but it doesn't turn me on in the least, contrary to what one might assume. I just find it fascinating and laughable, not to mention disgusting and more proof of the downfall of humanity.

When I read books like George's, I adore them because of the writing prowess and talent. The plot twists. The characters. The worldbuilding. That's the shit I'm obsessed with. Not the literary porn in the least! Although it does provide amusement and intrigue.

I feel like I should just clear that up. I wish the story was more... ahem... appropriate, or my motivations for consuming it more ubiquitous, so I wouldn't have to worry about sending an appropriate snippet of it to my teacher, but it's George motherflippin' deValier, so nothing else needs to be said. It's perfect. (Just like you, dear beloved darling reading this!) No further explanation needed.

Also, I'm fairly certain her curiosity wouldn't be piqued enough to actually track the story from my email down, which is a comforting thought. Then again, every time I'm left alone with my thoughts, they conjure up an image of Mrs. Schmit sitting at a computer in a dark room, the artificial blue light illuminating her face as if she's some deep web underground black market Anonymous hacker, Googling the transcript of the fated snapshot, her green eyes widening as she begins reading.

I fucking hate my brain. It hates me too.

So before I can change my mind, I hit send and continue through the glorious Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart, a devilish, Alfred F. Jones-type smile spreading across my face. There's no going back now. It is done.

Exceeding my highest expectations regarding a response, I don't even need to wait a full 24 hours before my unread emails total increases by one.

To anyone who's gotten the far, it's been an unjustly long post in the making. The moment you've all been waiting for with an anticipation that rivals that of a beat drop in a particularly lit dubstep track. Don't get too excited, though, because I have this frustrating habit of letting people down and I have a feeling this is no exception. You know, since you're all the way down here, you deserve a treat. What'll it be? Tea and biscuits? Nachos? Poutine? It's up to you. Ask and you shalt receive. I am your humble servant, friends.

Here is her response to my groundbreaking, world-changing email:

"Hi __{my_name}__,

"Yes, that was cute and made me smile!!! I hope your Spring Break is going well.

"Thank you,

" "Messerschmitt" "

DID YOU SEE THAT, GUYS???

SHE PUT THREE EXCLAMATION POINTS AND SIGNED OFF AS "MESSERSCHMITT".

I HAVE WON LIFE! I'VE SUCCEEDED! I AM A CHAMPION!!!

Mon Dieu, she liked the deValier excerpt. She made a fucking reference to it. She's got to be my favorite teacher now.

Don't know how to end this, so I guess...

...y'all, we need to start an international manhunt for our Lord and Savior George deValier. If we find him I can do all the things I said I would. If I get cancer, that's what I'll ask Make-A-Wish.

HIS STORIES NEED TO BE MOVIES I SWEAR TO HIMA-PAPA OR ELSE...

ok I'm done now

[filledwithregretandsomeswee-blog]

I hate romantics. This isn't to be confused with romance and love, no, I hate romantics. Well, why? Because to me romantics shut their eyes to what is happening around them. To me romantics choose to hide things under pretty words and metaphors. To lift the mundane and grotesque onto pedestals and proclaim their love for it. I am not a metaphor. I do not want a pedestal. I am a woman and I am not a "classic" standard for beauty. I do not want to be told sweet nothings that dissolve as easily as sugar and spike my blood pressure. The rolls on my body are not rolling peaks. The scars and bruises and bumps are not memories etched in skin. I am a force of nature, but my voice is neither thunder nor velvet. As Shakespeare says, I walk on the ground- though I am not his mistress. My history of depression and suicidal tendencies are not some inner angel crying to return home. I am messy. I am rough. I am vulgar. I am a woman. I am not a metaphor. I am flesh and blood, I am clenched teeth and sharp words. Romantics would wish to paint over me, to conceal my edges with falsities or honeyed words. To snip and tuck until I was merely two dimensions, words on a page. I detest this. I loathe it. Were romanticism a building, I would not rest until I could raze it. I would scatter the bricks and give pieces of the foundation to museums to marvel at the fossils of thought. Conversely, I do not hate metaphors nor do I hate positivity. The world can be a beautiful place and there is plenty in it to love. My problem is when our fancy with these things eclipse reality and ignore that life is more than metaphors. One cannot live on it. I am loving. I am understanding. I am nice. I am flesh and blood, I am sweet smiles and soft reassurances. But that is not all that I am. And it is best that it is remembered as such.