#I’m not the best at articulating what I mean but I think it came across okay

[bonesashesglass]

Jumblr is trending again cuz it’s where zionists like to go to hide (obviously not everyone in the jumblr tag, there are some genuine great posts about Jewish culture and takes and all sorts of stuff, and I wish that was the entire tag, but unfortunately most of what I saw just now was people trying to justify a genocide)

Looking at those posts…the mental gymnastics people go through to convince themselves that Israel is somehow morally correct here and anyone supporting Palestine is evil and anti-Semitic is crazy. I mean those posts are practically unintelligible

[librababe99]

hi!! can i request enemies to lovers w sexual tension with young charles xavier?? <33

Hi Anon!! I had about three different ideas on how to take this request and I think I found the one that will work the best🤭I hope you enjoy!

A Heated Debate

Tags: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, Young! Charles Xavier, Female Reader, Enemies to lovers, sexual tensions

Summary:  In the high-stakes world of mutant politics, You and Charles are bitter rivals. You’re, a fierce advocate for an aggressive approach to mutant rights, constantly clashes with Charles’ pacifist ideals during public debates. Their verbal sparring is intense, charged with both political conflict and unspoken desire. 

Word count: 1.5K

| Masterlist |

The room buzzed with the aftermath of the debate, the murmurs of the audience still echoing as people began to file out of the grand hall. You stood on the stage, arms crossed, seething beneath the carefully crafted mask you wore for the public. Another debate with Charles, another frustrating round of endless philosophical differences that seemed to lead nowhere but further entrenchment in your views.

Your fingers curled tightly around the notes in your hand, the paper crumpling slightly as you glanced toward him. Charles Xavier. Brilliant, articulate, annoyingly calm in the face of your fiery arguments. His peaceful rhetoric grated on you, especially in times like these when the world seemed to be falling apart for mutants.

"Mutual understanding," "humanity will come to accept us in time," "we must be patient." How could he still believe that? With anti-mutant violence rising, governments around the world pushing for mutant registration, and so many of your people living in fear—how could he remain so naively idealistic? Worse, how could he make it sound so convincing?

You had to admit it—he was good. Too good.

The crowd had loved him tonight, responding to his polished arguments with the kind of enthusiasm that made your stomach turn. And yet, beneath your frustration, there was something else. Something that made your pulse quicken every time you locked eyes with him during these debates. Something you despised acknowledging.

You heard the quiet click of his shoes as he approached from the other side of the stage, his posture as effortless as his argument had been.

“You handled yourself well tonight,” Charles said, his voice that smooth, infuriating calm you had come to know all too well.

Your eyes snapped to him, a fire igniting behind them. “I don’t need your compliments, Charles. I’m not here to be handled.”

His lips quirked slightly, that maddening half-smile playing at the corners of his mouth as if he enjoyed needling you. As if your frustration was amusing to him. “That’s not what I meant,” he replied, tilting his head ever so slightly, his blue eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that felt as though he were trying to read deeper into you than you were willing to show.

“You always mean something,” you shot back, stepping down from the stage, heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. “Some noble little phrase to make everyone believe that you’re the reasonable one, and I’m just the reckless, angry woman.”

Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair as he followed you offstage. “That’s not how I see you.”

“Well, it’s how you come across,” you said, pivoting to face him when you reached backstage, your voice lowering, but the fire was still there, crackling between the two of you. “You don’t listen, Charles. You talk about peace and patience as if you’re the only one with a real solution, as if my stance—our need to fight for our rights—is just noise.”

“You think I don’t understand the urgency?” he asked, his own frustration starting to show through his calm exterior. “I know what’s happening out there. I see the pain. I feel it every day, but—”

“But nothing! You’re not fighting hard enough!” Your words came out sharper than you intended, but you were too angry to care. The pent-up frustration you’d carried for months, perhaps years, finally spilling over. “Every day, mutants are targeted. We can’t sit around and wait for humanity to wake up and suddenly decide we’re equals.”

Charles closed the distance between you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned closer. “And you think war is the answer? That more violence will somehow win us the respect we deserve?”

“Sometimes, force is the only language they understand,” you shot back, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. You could feel the heat between you, both figuratively and literally, the air between you charged with something far more intense than simple disagreement. “You’re too soft, Charles. Too idealistic.”

“And you’re too angry,” he countered, his voice low, the calm veneer slipping away to reveal the passion underneath. “You’re letting your emotions dictate everything, and that will only lead to more destruction.”

“You don’t get to tell me how to feel,” you snapped, stepping forward until you were inches away from him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body. The proximity sent a shiver down your spine, though you refused to let it show. You couldn’t show weakness. Not to him.

“I’m not telling you how to feel,” Charles said, his voice dropping even lower, almost a whisper. “I’m asking you to see that there’s more at stake here than your anger.”

You stared up at him, your breathing shallow, chest rising and falling rapidly as the tension between you became almost unbearable. You could feel it now, the pull that had been lurking beneath the surface of every debate, every heated argument. The attraction that neither of you had dared to acknowledge.

And at this moment, the debate wasn’t just about politics anymore. It wasn’t about mutant rights or the philosophical differences that had driven a wedge between you and Charles for so long.

It was about the two of you. The crackling, undeniable heat that had been building with every word spoken, every glance exchanged.

“Why do you care so much about what I think?” you asked, your voice quiet but intense, eyes locking onto his. “Why does it matter so much to you?”

For a moment, Charles didn’t respond. His jaw clenched, his eyes searching yours as though he was weighing whether to say what he really wanted to say. The moment stretched on, thick with unspoken desire and frustration, until finally, he answered, his voice so low it sent a shiver through you.

“Because you matter to me. More than you know.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for a second, you weren’t sure if you had heard him right. But the look in his eyes—the way they darkened with something far more primal than political disagreement—told you everything you needed to know.

Before you could think, before you could stop yourself, you closed the final inch of space between you, your body pressing against his as your lips crashed into his.

The kiss was fierce, driven by months of unresolved tension and anger. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, and you responded in kind, fisting your hands in his shirt as if to anchor yourself to the intensity of the moment.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Everything about this was wrong. But you couldn’t stop. The fire that had fueled your arguments had turned into something much more dangerous—something neither of you could control.

His mouth moved against yours with a desperation that matched your own, his fingers digging into your hips as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. You could feel the heat of his breath, the way his chest heaved as the kiss deepened, as if all the arguments, all the frustrations of the past, had boiled down to this singular moment of passion.

But then, just as suddenly as it had started, you pulled away, breathless, your heart pounding in your chest.

“What are we doing?” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet backstage room.

Charles’ forehead rested against yours, his breathing just as ragged as yours. He didn’t answer for a moment, his fingers still gripping your waist as though he wasn’t ready to let go.

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted, his voice low, filled with the same uncertainty you felt. “But I can’t pretend this isn’t happening.”

You swallowed, your mind racing as you tried to process the fact that you had just kissed Charles Xavier—your rival, your ideological opposite, the man who represented everything you were fighting against.

But he wasn’t just that. Not anymore. Not after this.

“I can’t…” you began, but the words faltered as you felt his thumb brush lightly against your side, the smallest of touches that sent electricity through you all over again.

“I know,” Charles murmured, his lips hovering just over yours. “But we don’t have to figure this out right now.”

You stood there for a moment longer, your breaths mingling as you struggled to regain your composure. The weight of everything that had just happened hung between you, but for the first time, it wasn’t oppressive.

It was electric.

Finally, you stepped back, creating a small but necessary distance between the two of you. You had crossed a line tonight, and while you weren’t sure what it meant, you knew that things would never be the same.

Neither of you spoke as you gathered your things, the silence thick with the knowledge of what had just passed between you. As you turned to leave, you cast one last glance at Charles, who was watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite read—part desire, part regret.

“Until next time, Charles,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt.

He gave you a small, knowing smile, his eyes still dark with the remnants of the fire that had burned between you.

“Until next time.” 

You walked out of the room, your heart still racing, your mind spinning with the weight of what had just happened. The debate wasn’t over. Far from it. But the battle between you and Charles had just changed—forever.

[missmyloko]

Hi Justine,

I had an encounter with a Japanese person who hates the geisha world because of Kiyoha’s tweets, and I feel I could have responded better.

Is it ok to ask your opinion/advice? If not, please feel free to ignore my ask and I’ll understand.

I was at a reading group and I’m reading Arai Mameji’s autobiography. When I shared what I was reading, the Japanese person in our group said she hates the geisha world because they sell young girls to powerful men. I said that isn’t true, not anymore at least, and then she brought up Kiyoha’s tweets.

I got really thrown off and wasn’t sure what to say. I said I did get really upset when that news came out, and that it’s hard when you’re in an industry where the clients include politicians and rich, powerful men.

But I also said I’ve been to maiko events where the owner of the restaurant was there at all times, the guests were a mix of men and women, and the maiko were perfectly safe.

I also said that at least thanks to Kiyoha’s tweets, girls who decide to become maiko will do so with open eyes.

The facilitator of the group asked me what do I like about maiko, and I was so thrown that I couldn’t articulate it properly. I said I admire how hard they work to perfect their craft, and i love the beautiful kimono they wear. But when I expounded on how hard they work, I realized I was describing an environment that makes it easy to cover up abuse—no cellphones, only seeing their families at New Year, so I felt awkward again.

So I left that reading group with an icky feeling, and I also felt misunderstood. Though the facilitator was still nice and said he hoped to see me next time.

So, if I have a similar encounter, how can I respond without feeling like I’m defending abuse? 😰

Their environment is traditional, which can make it seem like it's an "easy" place to hide abuse, but that same environment is one that looks out for its own above all, which makes it much safer than one would think. Being in the karyukai really is like being in a secret club, whether you're a geimaiko or a customer you're vetted thoroughly before you enter, and if you go against the grain you're shown the door. It's also a world run by women who truly treat their charges like their own daughters (in 99% of cases anyway), so you know that they don't take abuse or the accusation of abuse laying down. The biggest thing to remember is that, unlike in the past, girls are free to choose the life of a geimaiko and can also leave at anytime without the fear of repercussions, so no one is going into the profession as a slave or has to endure any abuse of any kind. The girls who do this kind of hard work (and it is hard, which is why it's so admirable) are dedicated to the arts and improving themselves, which makes them such bosses. The girls who enter just to wear pretty kimono are quickly weeded out as they can't keep up with the training, but those who triumph have names that are known the world over. As to why you probably admire geimaiko, that's a fairly easy thing to articulate once you sit down and realize what they do. These women buck social norms as they say "no" to traditional gender roles and become the ones who wield power over men. They study the arts that they want, keep schedules that are pretty steady (and can then make their own schedules when they become jimae), and eventually buy whatever they want (and even when they live at the okiya they pretty much want for not). Not only that, but they are power brokers and diplomats for some of the most powerful people on the planet. It takes a special kind of strength to be a geimaiko, and those who succeed in living that life are bad asses. I mean, where else can you be a single mother earning a six figure salary, wear the best clothing, and meet people from across the globe on a nightly basis? In a society where traditional gender norms shape so much of what people can and can't do, geimaiko basically say "screw that" to everything. What happened to Kiyoha was horrible and can't be ignored, which is why the karyukai is starting to take action against that kind of behavior happening again. The good eggs look out for their own, like the events that you've gone to, and this is true in the vast majority of cases. I mean, no system is perfect and there will always be bad apples, but you can't look at Kiyoha's experience and say that the entire profession is like that or that it's tainted beyond repair because of what one girl went through. Anything worth fighting for requires effort, and it's up to people like us to put in the effort to help dispel the myths surrounding geimaiko so that this wonderful profession can continue to thrive in the future, hopefully with the necessary changes being made to ensure that it becomes a safer environment for all involved ^^

[nereidprinc3ss]

Hello, the one anon who said Spencer wasn’t an ass based on your preview….and….

I still don’t think he is! I am SO PROUD OF HIM!!!

Obviously Derek is the only actually correct one here (well and Randall who I loved. Imaging him as a slightly crusty war vet who means well but just is too gruff and rough to come across well. His wife bakes pies and has a rose garden in my mind) -

BUT, if you pretend to not know readers side, what Spencer says is perfect. Seriously I am so amazed at how well you articulate complicated emotions!!

Spencer had to grow up to take on adult responsibilities at age 10. He isn’t the best at communicating (v obvious right now), but he also is trying. He’s doing his best to do what’s right - and to him, reader is acting like a child lashing out - saying one thing, doing another. He can’t read her mind - all this is doing to him is proving he loves someone who doesn’t love him. (Again - which has to be the worst part. Like come on, dude admitted he loved the first girl he slept with and she didn’t love him. Now he’s in basically the same situation minus the actual intercourse and that has to hurt. It has to make him think something’s wrong with him) So he uses his words as a defense.

Could he have been nicer? Definitely. But his points, while ruder than normal for him, were accurate. (Seriously - cannot exclaim enough how amazed I am at your skill in writing conflicting emotions and view points).

ON THE FLIP SIDE —

Poor, poor reader. Trying to ignore what we know about Spencer - to only think how reader is thinking. That for the very first time, they’ve fallen in love - only to not be loved in return. The very feeling Spencer describes for himself - the feeling he wants her to avoid ever having.

Then she thinks that Spencer is angry at her for loving him, that something has to be wrong with her for him to not want her love. And she doesn’t have the experience or confidence to say what she thinks - so she pouts and ices him out, trying to leave so he can’t leave her first.

Two idiots in love. Absolute giant idiots.

Derek’s the only sane one right now - and that never happens. He’s right that Spencer can be, well… a cunt. But he’s also right that reader doesn’t understand how icy and sharp her claws are.

Ugh, I seriously read this when you released it and then had to step away before typing this message because I was worked up. Part of me really hopes it is reader who confesses first - and then they both grovel to each other. But I also know however you write it will be exactly right - and I’m looking forward to reading everything you post!!

Thank you, for starting and continuing this little series. Astounding! I need more words to describe how lovely this all is!

— 🌌

GUYSSS you all NEED TO READ THIS im serious!!! anon you get it!!! if you guys read part five as if you DONT know whats going inside readers head and try looking at it from spencer’s pov this is all very real. that’s not to say he was in the right for being unkind but he thought she was genuinely just being incredibly brutally unkind for no reason and he asked her to stop because he doesn’t want to breakup but he can’t handle being treated like that forever. thank you for verbalizing these things so i dont have to and thank you for reading🩷🩷 you are so sweet!! im glad the emotional components came through well for you!!

[rawbin-hsr]

The previous anon articulated it so well bc I just saw what they're talking about and I'm honestly confused why they thought u were saying anything wrong like 😭😭 are we sure we have the same guy here? Aventurine while yes knows what being loved feels like, he's gone through enough things and changes in life that that little frame of reference won't serve him well, especially within a romantic context bc he doesn't have ANY reference.

I read what you wrote as him not really meaning to (even reread) and yeah, he wouldn't Purposely want to be abusive to his romantic partner, but it still borders on it. What a lot of ppl get wrong is that, emotional abuse doesn't have to always mean the perpetrator is fully aware of it themself.

Maybe bc I myself have bpd, but it's so easy to see. When someone's avoiding negative feelings they have about themself (jealousy, insecurity etc) they can easily externalize this blame (and for him, that's so much more likely, it's literally a defense mechanism) or even, projecting his own view of himself on how you view him only to end up upset. (And then, the random clinginess that comes after this pushing away, why would it happen if not for trying to convince you to stay even though what he keeps doing is generally not a good thing to do in a relationship?) He wouldn't have known healthy attachment, didn't grow up with a safety net to be comfortable with that, hell, he thinks people closest to him (in canon) are sort of "tolerating" him. Are we really surprised?

Like, you never said aventurine is doing it with intent or even awareness bc yea he isn't!! He'd realize some of his actions sure, but stuff like "pushing you away" is probably shit he genuinely considers good for you, and it's not even like completely wrong he's in a high and risky position. Doesn't mean it wouldn't hurt like a mf, and I think that's the biggest tragedy of it all, because he doesn't fully realize how bad his actions are from another pov, and it's not like a single Convo can get him to understand that.

Anyway, sorry that was a lot more incoherent than I thought and I was firmly stating a lot of things bc I can pull up stuff to back my claim but ALSO bc they pissed me off if u don't like something just scroll I've been doing that for years on this app I never felt the need to go yell at someone bc I don't agree with how they interpret a character 😒😒😒😒 I hope ur feeling better, rsd sucks ass I always get so overwhelmed whenever I experience it but ur intent came across very clearly actually dw

I’m literally in tears I’m so grateful multiple people are taking the time to reassure me thank you so much 🥹🥹🥹 I was really doubting myself and my own take on him, it makes me feel so relieved I’m not the only one who has this specific take on him haha I was lowkey worrying I was a terrible person for a moment there 😭

And yes, exactly !!!! I think you were very coherent in this, in fact I think you formulated what I meant to say better than I did 😭😭 Like there’s a lot, a LOT of nuance to it !!! He never does it out of malice. He just doesn’t know any better. He tries to do what’s right and what’s best for you, he’s just… kind of not good at that because his whole perspective is skewed.

I do still think they were right that I shouldn’t have used the word ‘abuse’. It’s a very loaded term, and I think abuse requires a power dynamic, which is something I think he would try to eliminate in a relationship. Like, yes, he is a powerful man and he sort of needs some leverage to stay in control (of both his own life and his relationship with you), but I think he fucking hates the idea of being “above you” in any way. (Though to be fair he still could unintentionally create an uneven power dynamic — he’s the one mostly in charge of when the two of you interact. I think he loathes himself even more when he realises that.) I think it would be best to stick to the word “toxic” because it feels most fitting from my pov

[lemonadedino]

Have a snippet of landoscar enemies to lovers background story from the much ado about nothing au fic below the cut 🫶

I have to prove to myself that I’ve actually worked in it lol

As he walked back to his seat, amid all the polite clapping, he heard him.

“That Piastri guy had the most boring presentation ever, I swear. I was actively falling asleep. And don’t get me started on the slide choice, Carlos! Where was the color? The variety? The fun, engaging design elements? It was just all so bland, mate. Blergh.”

Oscar was pretty sure the curly-haired man currently launching a vitriolic attack on his PowerPoint was named Lando Norris. He vaguely recognized him from his presentation earlier in the day.

Oscar had heard his name floating around the office break room. Supposedly, he was the office prodigy, some sort of comp-sci genius poached straight out of Oxford. Public opinion on Lando seemed to deem him as an intensely likable and cherubic, if slightly hyperactive, team member with a strong work ethic and sharp sense of humor.

Listening to the Brit’s increasingly passionate tirade, Oscar wasn’t so sure about the first part of that descriptor.

Unaware that he now had an audience, Lando kept on ranting to his companion, gesticulating wildly.

“I can’t believe he used Times New Roman, Carlos. Times New Roman! That’s literally the worst possible choice. It means you intentionally didn’t want to use the default font, Arial, but still couldn’t branch out and be more exciting! Oswald is right there!” His voice gradually climbed in volume. “Also! Who actually adds transitions to their slides? That’s some George type shit.”

“Mate, yours wasn’t much better.” The words came spitting out before Oscar even registered that his mouth had opened. Clearly, four hours of sleep had lowered his normal inhibitions surrounding conflict avoidance. Two sets of eyes snapped to look at him, one pair unnervingly reminiscent of watercolor and the other velveteen brown.

Oscar swallowed. Well. There’s no backing out now. He might as well fully commit.

“At least I didn’t use brain-meltingly bright neon colors and an overcrowded SlidesGo template. And a soundtrack? Really, Norris? Where did you even find that?” Oscar was on a roll now. There was something oddly liberating about it. “What are you, a five year old who got access to Microsoft Office for the first time?”

Lando pouted, which in theory should look absolutely ridiculous on a full grown man. It certainly didn’t help him fight the “five year old who got access to Microsoft Office for the first time” allegations. Yet somehow, on Lando, it was adorable. Oscar shut down that train of thought as soon as it sprouted.

Lando pursed his lips, primed to respond, no doubt with another jab at Oscar’s presentation.

“Oscar! Great job, dude!” Logan suddenly hollered from across the room, eagerly waving him over. Oscar had never been more grateful for his best friend. He would definitely be buying him one of those Arnold Palmers that the American so adored from the office café in thanks.Taking the opportunity to escape, Oscar waved back and slipped away.

He heard Carlos chuckle as he left.

“He’s really got you there, Lando. You know, I quite liked his presentation. He’s a good speaker. Very articulate,” the older man said.

“Shut up. That’s my new Sworn Arch-Nemesis you’re talking about.”

“A bit dramatic, don’t you think? What happened to Betty from HR being your Sworn Arch-Nemesis? You were complaining to me about her just yesterday.”

“I’m not being dramatic, Carlos. Can’t you see it? Betty’s been ousted. Oscar Piastri is an infinitely more qualified candidate for the role of my Sworn Arch-Nemesis.” Lando paused. “Plus, I’m pretty sure Betty is nearing her 70s. She talks about her grandchildren all the time. I don’t want to deal with the hassle of finding a replacement after her retirement.”

Up until that moment, Oscar had been planning to chase Lando down after the conference, buy him a coffee, and apologize effusively for his outburst. Sure, it had been rude of the Brit, but it didn’t justify Oscar insulting his presentation. He didn’t know why he had reacted so strongly to Lando’s snarky commentary. Truly, Lando’s presentation hadn’t been that bad. He’d seen way worse. Oscar actually thought that the soundtrack was a nice touch.

But if Lando was already dead set on treating him as his Sworn Arch-Nemesis, Oscar didn’t see why two couldn’t play at that game. He had to spice up his workday somehow, after all.

Since then, for the last couple of years, there had been a constant stream of traded barbs and petty jibes, more often than not sent via Microsoft Teams, because Lando transferred to a new division based across the country a year ago.

Oscar would never admit it, but he had started looking forward to opening his inbox every morning, eager to see what creative insult Lando had launched at him. Obviously, he shot one of his own right back.

[anonzentimes]

hello! just wanted to say that i’m so happy that i came across your blog, and i love the way you analyze characters (especially nagito! not many people REEEALLY get his character but i think you totally do)! danganronpa’s been pretty present in my life for a while, and anytime i want to analyze an aspect of it, someone just says “oh it’s not that deep it’s a danganronpa game” alright but what if i DID make it that deep and convoluted!! in any case, your analysis writings have inspired me and i hope to interpret things in my own way someday😌

YAY!!! I’m honored to have made a positive impact on you. It makes me very happy to think I can help people even in really small ways. Don’t let anyone tell you, “Oh it’s just (this thing)” If you have the desire to look further into something, articulate thoughts , express ideas and emotions, analyze things about a certain media, or genuinely anything like that don’t let anyone undermine what you enjoy and tell you that there’s no point to it. People telling you that it’s not deep and that it’s just Danganronpa are actively playing into cringe culture and using the bad reputation or how little it means to them to belittle how much it means to you. If anything being able to analyze, articulate, and form opinions is like an internal super power that shouldn’t be underestimated even if those skills can be used to express things about something that may be weird to others. Personally, I think there actually is a lot to analyze about Danganronpa and that it can be deep at points, there’s a lot to talk about with the franchise and I resonate with a lot of it. I’m glad I can make a general positive impact, and I hope to see you interpret things in your own way as well. Thank you, I try my best to articulate things about the characters I love! It warms my heart to know so many people think I understand him, it means a lot to me.

Thanks you again for your Ask!

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Lee Myers

Published: Mar 16, 2013

1) Atheists Believe Everything Came From Nothing

Many theists believe there was once nothing, and then there was something—the universe—created by their god. And so they ask, “But if there is no god then how can something come from nothing?”

This question has been asked for thousands of years, but now Quantum physics has provided a basis for some atheists, such as Lawrence Krauss, to indeed believe the universe comes from “nothing.” But Krauss doesn’t speak for all atheists and he speaks of a very different kind of “nothing,” the kind where virtual particles are created from borrowed energy inside a vacuum. This is not even remotely close to what theists mean by the term “nothing.”

When asked about the universe, most atheists simply stop somewhere along the lines of “the evidence suggests the universe began expanding approximately 13.77 billion years ago.” Beyond that I’m fine with “I don’t know.” I don’t need to know. I do not believe the universe came from “nothing” in the way theists use the word or in the way Krauss uses the word. I don‘t think there’s enough evidence to reach a conclusion yet and I‘m fine with that. I’ve never met an atheist who believed everything comes from “nothing“ in the way theists use the word and in my experience, only a minority subscribe to the theory Krauss puts forward. Theists may believe the universe sprang from nothing, but they then have the burden of proving there was ever “nothing” and that “something” requires any gods at all.

2) Atheists Have No Morals

Humans are social beings, and as such we have morals. Some theists say atheists have no reason to be moral since we don’t believe in a god to instruct or punish us. This claim seems rather disingenuous when one considers that most theists who say this wouldn’t become immoral deviants overnight if they suddenly stopped believing in a god.

Studies have shown our morals are a product of multiple factors. The Milgram experiment shows authority plays a major role. The Stanford prison experiment showed the same, but also displayed the role of social hierarchy. The “good or evil” puppet test for babies suggests we are all born with a basic sense of fairness, justice, and unfortunately, bigotry. Human morality is too complex to be explained by religion or lack of it.

Millions of atheists across the globe live moral lives every day. Some don’t. Neither do some believers. There are atheist charities and atheist criminals. There are religious charities and religious hate groups. Religious people and atheists can both behave morally or immorally because of—or wholly independent of—their religious beliefs. One doesn’t necessarily lead to the other. Studies have shown the basis of human morality is present even before we’re exposed to religion.

3) Atheists Have No Meaning of Life

Even if humanity survives the next 5 billion years on this planet, the sun will balloon into a red giant, boil and possibly devour the earth before exploding and blasting out through the cosmos. The universe will continue to expand at an increasing rate, and eventually the force of gravity will be too weak for any new stars or planets to form. The universe will whither and die.

Some theists consider this and think without belief in an afterlife, nothing really matters in this life. Believing in an afterlife can influence one’s meaning of life, but a meaning of life doesn’t require belief in an afterlife. Some theists refer to Nietzsche’s nihilism as if Nietzsche were the be-all and end-all of existentialist philosophy. But humans generally define our meaning in the moments we enjoy and the goals we set. This was probably best articulated by Albert Camus in The Myth of Sisyphus.

I enjoy every moment I spend with my daughter, and one of my goals is to be a good father. I enjoy art, and one of my goals is to read, hear and see more of it. I like a large, hot cup of coffee while watching the dim glow of morning just before dawn. I love the serenity of canoeing on a sunny day and the soft crunch of fresh snow beneath my feet. I enjoy my friends and my family. Atheism does give life meaning because as an atheist, I understand this is the only life I’ve got.

4) There Are No Atheists in Foxholes

Yes there are. They even have a website. Nonetheless there persists among some this belief that atheism is generally disingenuous and that everyone cries out to “God” in times of need. This claim highlights a conflicting epistemology between the theist who is basing beliefs in part on fear and need, and the those of us who determine beliefs based on facts and evidence.

Their assumption also implies that when a theist cries out “Oh God,” they are literally trying to talk to “God.” I have several religious family and friends who say “Oh God” in all sorts of scenarios but are rarely actually trying to carry on a conversation with The Almighty. Even a theist saying “Oh God” in a foxhole is most likely not actually expecting divine intervention. The phrase is generally used in the same way as “Oh Shit,” which generally doesn’t involve any reference to actual shit. Even so, there are millions of people who’ve encountered life threatening situations and didn’t cry out about god, shit or anything else.

5) Atheists Just Hate God

About as much as we hate unicorns. Theists tend to make this claim when atheists assert moral opinions about supposed deeds of their deity. “How can you have opinions about something you don’t believe in?” The same way we form opinions about Darth Vader, Willy Wonka or the Wicked Witch of the West—according to their role within the story. It doesn’t matter if the story involves a Sith killing all the Jedi kids or a god killing a nation’s first born.

Just repeating the claim back usually gets the point across. Do Christians “hate” Allah? Do Muslims “hate” Jesus? Do Jews “hate” the FSM? Not believing in a particular religion is not dependent on a negative opinion of that religion’s deity or messiah figure. It’s simply the result of not being convinced because the burden of proof has not been met. I personally think Buddha and Lao Tzu both had great things to say, but I’m not a Buddhist or a Taoist.

6) Atheists Just Don’t Want to Submit to God

Well, one would first need to provide reason for believing there is anything to submit to. Lacking belief in deities doesn’t mean one doesn’t want to submit to what they don’t believe in. Like number 5, the point can be made rather easily by simply repeating this back to the theist. Does the Christian lack belief in Allah just because she doesn’t want to wear a hijab? Do non Catholics lack belief in Catholicism simply because they don’t want to submit to the Pope? Do Muslims lack belief Jesus was the embodiment of “God” simply because they want to continue justifying child marriages with the actions of their so-called prophet?

7) Atheists Are Angry

There once was a time when challenging religion was considered taboo. Some would like to hold on to that standard to save their religion from scrutiny. Those days are over, but that doesn‘t mean being skeptical of religion means skeptics are angry.

Being confrontational does not equate to anger. If someone told you Elvis was spotted buying T-shirts at K-Mart, their claims would be analyzed, scrutinized, debunked and in most cases, outright laughed at. I see no reason why it should be any different for religious claims.

8) Atheists Are Responsible for the Worst Atrocities in History

Stalin, Pol Pot and Mao were all atheists, so atheism must be responsible for the mass executions during said reigns—or so the accusation goes. This statement is usually a retort to blaming Christianity for the Crusades or Islam for terrorism. The fact of the matter is there have been Christians, atheists, Muslims and many others of different beliefs and non beliefs who have committed multiple atrocities throughout history. But there have also been some of the kindest deeds in history performed by people of all kinds of belief and non belief.

Stalin, Pol Pot and Mao did not execute people in the name of atheism, but rather for simply not submitting to them as if they were gods themselves. There is a long list of atheist politicians who never committed atrocities. Claiming atheism would lead to disastrous atrocities like those witnessed in the early Soviet Union is a hasty generalization fallacy which ignores all the good deeds of decent atheist politicians throughout time.

9) Atheists Are Guilty of “Scientism”

It must be difficult holding beliefs which cannot be justified with evidence. This leads some theists to conclude atheists all subscribe to “scientism.” This term is meant as an insult against skeptics for daring to ask for evidence when confronted with extraordinary claims.

Scientism is a philosophy which holds that science is the ultimate truth, and that science is the only way to truth. But preferring science to superstition doesn’t mean science is always correct. Scientists are humans and can make mistakes like anyone else. However, the methodology of science does work. That doesn’t mean science is the only way to truth. It just means it’s an effective method of attaining natural truths.

Many atheists are equally skeptical of science and religion. My first assignment in my college statistics class was to find three examples of misused data in the media. This same task had been given to each class for over a decade and no two people ever turned in the same three examples. I have also studied philosophy, including philosophy of science, and so I understand science can be wrong. I have yet to meet an atheist who believes scientists are infallible.

10) Atheists Are All Rational and Logical

This is one I hear mostly from other atheists. Some atheists like to consider themselves more rational than theists and ask why we should call ourselves atheists at all, as opposed to calling ourselves rationalists or some other such term.

But all atheists are not rational. Atheism is simply the lack of belief in deities. There are atheists who believe in homeopathy, ancient aliens, 911 conspiracy theories and a host of other completely irrational ideas unsupported by any stretch of logic. Just because someone arrived at the rational non belief in deities does not mean they are rational about everything else.

[yonemurishiroku]

I think another thing to note is that a lot of the TSATS negativity stems mainly from users on tumblr. I’ve been on twitter & Tik tok and the reaction seems to be overwhelmingly positive. Like the first few days the book came out, seeing tumblr reactions versus other platforms was literally like night and day. I’ve even seen some ppl say they cried a lot or that it’s their fav PJO book! (Which is a surprising but whatever 😭) I have seen some criticisms on the other platforms, sometimes about the writing quality or OOC-ness or being underwhelming, but it still wasn’t all terribly negative. The only place I’ve seen VERY VERY harsh vitriol is on here, and I’m not sure why. personally I thought TSATS was okay and I have my own criticisms, but honestly I have that with every PJO-verse book. Imo some of the takes I’ve seen here are valid, but some are also really really mean and honestly a tad overdramatic, but idk why or what it is about tumblr. I think I’ll stay away from here for a while when chalice comes out.

This ask is from May 18th, I'm so sorry for the delayed replies. 😭😭😭 It got caught in a mess for quite a while aksdkdakj---

Ok. So.

You're saying that most of the negative reviews come from Tumblr whereas TikTok and Twitter give mostly good feedback. I think I can offer a few explanations about this.

Tl,dr:

Tumblr allows long posts, whereas Twitter and TikTok have a length-wise limit to their content.

Tumblr is more fandom-centered, a much more suitable place to rant in a book of a franchise.

Tumblr has a different approach, which enables different types of posts to come across you, unlike Twitter.

(Please keep in mind that I don't use TikTok, so most of this would be assumptions based on my limited knowledge about the platform. I have a Twitter account though)

Now. The first point is quite clear. Tumblr doesn't have any limitations to whatever you post on the site (or at least that limit exceeds normal people's capacity of writing/reading per post ajsdhakjdhak), which enables you to give long, complicated, detailed essays on a certain topic.

Which is the best fit if you want to criticize something.

Because unlike complimenting something, when you criticize it, you'd need to give a reason for how and why it is bad (in your opinion). To compliment something, you might just need to say simple things like "OMG I LOVE IT" "This is so adorable I might cry" etc...

Adding to that: sometimes it's just easier to list what you dislike, you know? 🤣🤣🤣 I mean. When you hate something, you'd find it very easy to focus on its flaws to dissect, which results in many rants. Whereas when you love something, you just... love it. Not mentioning sometimes you can find it hard to articulate said love.

In Twitter's case: Twitter has a character limit, which hinders people's need to rant. This appears unsuitable when you want to rant about st in dissatisfaction. Although, it'd be pretty good if you're overwhelmed with love and want to flood the complimenting post with memes.

Yes, there're people writing a whole long ass thread on Twitter. But again, with Tumblr alr providing a function, it's understandable which one would prefer.

TikTok, in addition to having a length cap on their videos - which acts roughly the same as Twitter's character limit, allows only video format. This is just a hypothesis, but I suspect people might be discouraged by the idea of making, filming, and editing a video about something they don't like - rather than just... writing it down. I find the second choice much easier.

Similar to the above, Tumblr is more fandom-centered. The app is literally advertised as for Fandoms and Creators.

When you want to share an opinion on a certain topic, you'd go for those who at least have a semblance of whatever you're talking about, right?

Tumblr is created for fandoms and has its own tag system. This makes it easier when you're targeting a certain group of enjoyers. I doubt that Twitter and TikTok, while having their own tagging systems, would be more effective than Tumblr. (Ppl on Twt rarely use tags when it comes to fandoms......)

Different approaches.

Tumblr, as far as I know, filters content by tag. Which means that if you look into the The sun and the star tag, you'd see everything related to it. If you like something from it, chances are you'd get recommended another post in said tag, regardless of what it is about. Including conflicting opinions.

On Twitter, on the other hand, if you want to see a certain topic, chances are you'd need to:

1/ Follow someone who's active on said topic. Generally, you would go for someone you like/ share some of your sentiments/ you vibe with to follow right? Hence, chances are they would share the same view as you.

2/ Search for the tag. But I doubt people would use tag for this book.

3/ Search for any other keywords. This runs the risk of missing content, which might or might not include the criticizing post.

Of course: This^^ relies heavily on my predictions and assumptions of your engagement. It might not apply that well.

All in all, it all comes down to whether and where people choose to express themselves. I have a Twitter and a Tumblr, and I choose to deliver most of my PJO content on Tumblr. 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ You don't see me criticizing on Twt, but I'm def there.

About Chalice though, I don't think you need to worry lol. TSATS has its problems because it focuses on already controversial topics and is put on a pedestal before release, so people tend to be more extreme. Chalice, on the other hand, afaik, is about another average quest by Percy? It's not that... extreme, I mean, and there's hardly and complicated plot. I think of it more as a side story, really. So maybe you don't have to worry that much? lol i do hope so. 😂😂

[classicsmosh]

hi, im that aro anon you were talking about. you didn’t sound preachy at all, dw, i just wanted to clarify myself because i sent that ask like a week ago i think and i probably could’ve explained myself better.

..which is sort of the hard part for me because articulating my thoughts on love is just as hard as fully grasping haha. it makes sense in my head but writing it never comes out right.

i think you bring up a lot of good points and i totally agree with your thoughts on platonic love, always have, and i’m the last person that treats platonic love as second best to the romantic kind.

what i was trying to say is that the label or line itself doesn’t really matter to me when it comes to ianthony. in real life they’re obviously platonic, but a lot of people see them in a romantic context too for fun, and i understand it regardless so it doesn’t make a difference to me. in my mind, it doesn’t even really require a label. it’s just Love, and that’s why i felt that i could understand it fully in a way that’s usually hard for me.

to quote myself, they are [an example of] my definition of love, and that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s romantic— i didn’t mean it romantically. it just is. my aromanticism felt relevant when talking about this because it affects the way i view all love, but i think that might’ve led to confusion.

you said it better than me: “I’d even say it’s true love”. that’s what i was originally trying to get across, and i think it might’ve gotten misinterpreted a little. but i really appreciate you talking about it because i love discussing things with other aro(aces) like myself. sorry for the essay ❤️

Thank you for the clarification! I also didn't mean to sound like I thought you were devaluing platonic love! That wasn't the thought process, the whole thing sort of came from a misplaced sense of concern, I guess. 😅

[goodautisticdick]

The autistic sex languages

Something I’ve been thinking about is how there is this concept of love languages, and autistic love languages. For those unfamiliar with the concept, a love language a psychology theory about how people like to give and receive love. The neurotypical love languages are as follows: Words of affirmation, physical touch, receiving gifts, quality time, and acts of service. This doesn’t really work for autistics, so the autism community came up with the autistic love languages, which are as follows: Support swapping, infodumping, parallel play, deep pressure, and penguin pebbling (Giving you a cool thing I found that I think you’ll like.)

Thinking about these, it occurred to me that it’s important to think about the idea of autistic sex languages, or what makes sex enjoyable for autistics, from an autistic perspective. This is by no means definitive, and I welcome feedback- this is just based around my own understanding of my autism and how it relates to my sexual life, and what others have expressed to me.

As such, here are the five autistic sex languages:

Stimming: Sex can be stimming! Masturbation can absolutely be stimming! Touching your partner’s genitals can absolutely be stimming! It’s important to acknowledge that sometimes you want to stim sexually, and the goal shouldn’t be sex, orgasm, or anything- you just want to touch their junk and play with it. It’s important to identify that you’re doing this to stim, but understand that your partner may have needs too, and to discuss those as well. And mutual stimming is wonderful- having a partner playing with you while you play with them can be super fun.

Sensory: Sex is wet and sticky and soft and slick and tastes like all kinds of things and hairy and smooth and wrinkly and hard and slick and rubbery and musky and salty and loud and quiet and pleasurable and orgasmy and a full sensory experience. Initially I wanted to put this under stimming, but I think the sensory exploration deserves it’s own category. I know a lot of autistics who have talked about how they love the sensations of sex, specifically citing certain things- loving the tickle of fingers across skin, the sensation of pushing into someone, the slickness of arousal, all those things. It’s important to allow exploration and appreciation to help make the sensory experience the best it can be, while also allotting for the idea of overstimulation and winding down. Sometimes sexual touch can be incredibly overstimulating, so being able to articulate that so it doesn’t become unwelcome or painful is really important. Setting up healthy boundaries and discussing compromise here is also really important- for example- I don’t want you to touch my chest right now, but I’m ok touching you and kissing you.

Special Interests: The kink world is full of autistics. I’ve met a lot of sex workers who are autistic, and they love the direct communication, as well as the ability to find a sexual special interest that they can geek out about. A lot of fetishes can look like special interests, and once you dive in, you get into a lot of fun possibilities. I think it’s important to make sure partners are cool with you infodumping, and are open to experimenting with you, while also having the ability to safely say they aren’t feeling comfortable with these things. It’s always hard to hear no when something is your special interest, but it’s important to respect boundaries.

Routine: A lot of autistics, myself included, really love routine. Having step by step understanding of how something can go, having direct communication about what is going to happen, and building that routine is really nice. Normalizing autistics incorporating sex into their routine, either through masturbation or with their partner(s) can really help reduce stress and help build that daily or weekly routine a lot of autistics need for their wellbeing. I think it’s important to make sure your partners are on board with this, so they know that Thursday night is sex night, but also for you to have the ability to deal with rejection and breaking the routine if they’re not in a place where they want to have sex.

Navigating Trauma: There’s a saying, “We don’t know what autism looks like, we just know what traumatized autism looks like,” and I think the same is true in our sex lives. Having a partner that understands what it is to be autistic and traumatized, and understand the specifically autistic traumas that so many of us face can be really helpful. In my sexual encounters with autistics with trauma, there’s been a disclosure that there’s some hard stuff, and approaching it with patience and understanding of someone who has been through it myself has been something that they have thanked me for afterwards. So I think that shared understanding and unconditional support that autistics often can provide from their lived experience, or at least being able to understand where their partner is coming from, is really essential. Furthermore, being divorced from neurotypical sexual norms gives  you a lot more freedom to discuss what things will look like, and how to redefine safe for your autistic sexual relationship.

There’s a lot of other things I’ve thought about adding, including direct communication, autisexuality, exploring gender, defying neurotypical sexual norms, autistic sex as an act of resistance, and playful masking and role playing, but those are topics that either deserve their own post, or I’m not fully comfortable diving into. But I hope this has all been helpful in getting you thinking about how your autism pertains to your sexuality.

[theswitchsteinenigma]

“But what did I mean by that”

“What does it mean to know me”

It’s hard to articulate how I feel so it makes it even harder for people to get to know me, sometimes I feel like I don’t really even know myself or know how to let someone know me.

“Me” as in Switch feels like on a fraction of a million things I am. Like it’s what I’m comfortable introducing myself as, it’s who I identify with the most. But other then being a He/They named Switch and a handfull of other things that piss a lot of people off well I’m an artist I love coordination weather it’s jewelry oulfits or the keychains hanging off my cup or my purse. I’m very particular on too many things. I let that hold me back a lot. Covid made my anxiety and agoraphobia debilitating but I go out as much as I can because isolation in a 12x12 cube will make anyone feel like a rat in a cage. Doesn’t mean I have any less of an awfully hard time psyching myself out and actually doing it.

It took me 22 years to reach out to my biological father and he died before I actually got to talk to him. Before he got to know me in my adult life. I still to this day cry about him not knowing me but I’m not really sure who in all I’d be able to articulate and introduce to him.

But the time for that has passed now. I met my two brothers sitting front row at his funeral. I’m not sure what was more surreal those two boys being perfect and sober or the fact that the only thing I inherited from this man were the items found in his pockets when his body was found.

Those items included:

1 red ink pen (pictured above)

1 pair of rainbow kiss eyelash tweezers

1 mostly used mint and purple elf bar

A very twisted up ballys casino card

A very odd bracelet that I’d like to wear but genuinely I’m afraid to.

A lighter

And 26 cents.

I gladly accepted and kept all of these items to this day because well theirs really not much else I can get from him. So many of the pictures in his slideshow were ones taken by or with my mom but she was always cropped out, it’s really funny but I know at least Danny bacon thought the same thing I did when one or two of them came across.

His nickname was cheese, his best friend is bacon their bacon and cheese I still to this day don’t know the story behind that but damn i really fucking would’ve loved hearing that story from him.

I wish I said something at his funeral I even wrote something up and reread it maybe a million times but I just couldn’t do it. And now no one will ever know how I feel, well except yall. It’s whatever.

I feel strange constantly and my identity use to be a fight either for or against my last name and everything that’s come before me. I can’t even really tell you where I’ve settled the debate because honestly I still don’t know how I feel or what I want or what in the fucking world I would’ve said to him if I ever got the chance to speak to him.

My adopted father has made me feel better in any way he’s ever been able to and he’s adamant about the fact he doesn’t want me to move out and if it was his decision I’d be here forever. I love and adore him for everythings he’s done and will do and I look forward to growing more with him then apart from him. Sometimes I feel like this sadness and emptiness I hold is unnecessary or even a little disrespectful but I know he gets it.

When I first found out I went downstairs to tell him and he told me about a time he was at my Mømmōm’s house and him and cheese were talking and he essentially told him thank you for being there for me and just like what the fuck am I suppose to do with this information I’m dumbfounded but I get it. Alex is great and was able to do everything he couldn’t. So why am I still sad?

Well for starters I think I’m autistic and just full incapable of processing any sort of feelings or grief in any sort of proper way even at 22. But that’s besides the point, I’m sad for a million reasons and I regret so much and I don’t even know what I mean by I wish he got to know me because I’m not really sure who I wanted and needed him to know to truly feel content in my life.

TLDR: dude I got mad identity and daddy issues. And probably autism. And a substance abuse problem, and a dead biological father who oded and I have to move out of my adopted dad’s house but I’m full of fear and grief still and don’t wanna be away. Nor do I know who I wanna be or who I want my dad to know nor who I wanted cheese (el bio father) to know! And for some reason that’s the most complex grief I’ve ever owned in my soul summed up way too easily.

With love and lots of tears

✨💕Switch💕✨

[theohonohan]

Not really a community matter

I’ve finished reading and listening to Miranda July’s All Fours. (I bought the audiobook after getting stuck near the end of the first part while reading the Kindle edition. In all, the cost was less than a physical copy. We’ll see whether I retain access to either digital format in five years, or ten years, or after the collapse of the current dispensation).

I am going to write something more about July, although it’s tempting to leave off with the last piece I wrote, which I think was pithy enough.

July calls herself an artist, but to my mind she’s really an “artist” in quotation marks. It’s hard to look at her body of work and conclude that she is a genuine maker of art, rather than a filmmaker. I don’t mean to gatekeep or police the business of art making—what I mean is just that when I compare her to Sophie Calle or Frances Stark, her artwork seems a little less considered, a little more slight. She’s a celebrity, no doubt. As she writes in the book “I worked in so many mediums that I was able to debut many times; for about fifteen years I just kept emerging, like a bud opening over and over again.” Is this it—that she has a knack for making an impression, but lacks the wherewithal to become truly established?

In a recent interview, July remarked:

In my early twenties I came across a book by the artist and Bauhaus teacher László Moholy-Nagy, and I still have the bookmark in the spot that says, “Art is a community matter transcending the limitations of specialization,” which I took to mean we don’t have to specialize. So I guess I did need some outside approval on this.

Moholy-Nagy is an unexpected reference point for July, and rather than being a representative of interdisciplinarity (as July is taking him to be) he is best known as a designer (consider his text “Designing is not a profession but attitude”: https://www.readingdesign.org/designing-is-not-a-profession). Moholy-Nagy, in my mind, is distinctively modernist figure who sees himself, in the role of designer, regulating the whole system of production, knowing what every machine in the factory does and why it is doing it. July is not a designer—her productions are more scattershot—and although she is very fluent, articulate, and a great writer, the philosophy she is guided by seems to be somewhat patchy and gimcrack when compared to Moholy-Nagy’s perhaps overbearing but at least technically competent “man at the crossroads” of industrial society.

Much of July’s material seems to come from her weird upbringing, with a pair of crazy parents who ran a new-agey pseudo-scientific publishing house. Although she seeks to be the brainy one with insight into relationships, her engagement with many topics is, on the evidence of All Fours, a little superficial. She’s not really a “theoretical girl”, to use the classic 80s expression (I don't think she'd claim to be one, either—not "theoretical", anyway).

I’m interested in her untrained and “intuitive” (whatever that word means) perceptions of the world, particularly when it comes to things like apps. I’m a little disappointed that her articulacy doesn’t seem to be backed up by a strong programme of investigations. She does seem busy, compulsive even, and I guess that the book is in some sense a reckoning with the point in life when natural compulsion and energy seem to wear out. July’s character slackens off the pace, finding it difficult to make new work. It seems very plausible to me that July’s success has come from being driven, from relentlessly transcribing and exposing her immediate thoughts to the world, rather than through deep insight and contemplation. She writes:

I work in our converted garage. One leg of my desk is shorter than the others and every day for the past fifteen years I’ve meant to wedge something under it, but every day my work is too urgent—I’m perpetually at a crucial turning point; everything is forever about to be revealed.

I can relate to this. Is it a kind of self-indulgence to dedicate oneself to this work? Is it self-centered to think that this is how you should spend your time?

I hadn’t planned on becoming this rarefied; I had just spent every waking moment trying to get across what life seemed like to me, only allowing undeniable things—the child, a bad case of the flu, hunger and thirst—to take me away from this trying.

One point of annoyance, for some readers of the book, is July’s financial obliviousness. From the point when the protagonist spontaneously chooses to blow her $20k on redecorating a cheap motel room, she seems almost wilfully ignorant of the legal aspects. Of course she doesn’t own the hotel room. She may have “made it her own” in an aesthetic sense, like every house she has lived in (she has never actually bought her own house) but every improvement she makes to the room is an investment in someone else’s property. It’s a matter of fixtures and chattels. One reviewer on Goodreads thought that having the protagonist spend that much money to decorate the room indicated that All Fours was intended to be "cartoonish", but I'm not so sure. In the real world, one can pay $5,000 for a copy of July's limited edition 2022 art book Services. It's available for sale on the publisher's website—you don't have to enquire to discover the price, or organize finance. Supposedly, it's something you'd just pick up. It seems all too likely that $20,000 seems like a significant amount to July, but not crazy money.

To me, though, July seems to have consciously chosen to focus on matters other than the purely materialistic. The problematic of her narrative is not “how to earn it” but “how to spend it”. Sure, she’s insanely privileged, but she can’t be expected to write perceptively about anything other than her own experience.

On a psychic level, July’s refurbishment of the motel room is recognizably a kind of cathexis. It’s an intense investment of mental energy into a particular site. Is she trying to create a second womb for herself to hide out in? Would that be a sign of primary narcissism (the desire to shut out the world and return to the security and omnipotence of the time before birth)? She seems to address this possibility at the end of the book. She is watching her former lover Davey dancing in a theatre in New York:

He was still rising as I looked around slowly, smelling tonka bean.  Of course none of the furniture was here, not the great chairs or the pink bed or the marble-topped table, but the theater now felt eerily like the room. Safe and full of holy potential.  I swallowed and sat back.  Suddenly I wanted to stay here and for this to go on and on, but from the music I could tell the performance was almost over; it would end when he landed. Any second now I’d be clapping, the lights would come up. In the meantime he was still rising and the warm, hallowed feeling kept growing; I could feel it expanding beyond the walls, into the street. It would still be there when I got outside, gilding the whole neighborhood, the whole city. Indeed the whole world was the motel room. The whole universe? Yes, everything was the room; you could not step outside of it, not even by dying.  And he was still rising, into the air.  If 321 was everywhere then every day was Wednesday, and I could always be how I was in the room. Imperfect, ungendered, game, unashamed. I had everything I needed in my pockets, a full soul.

This seemingly accepting, integrated grasp of the world is offered as a refutation of the idea that July’s protagonist is trying to escape from reality into some kind of ideal dream.

It goes without saying that Miranda July is a romantic (to a fault). She also seems perpetually on-edge, a little uptight—as one web page remarks, somewhat unkindly: “It is hard not to think of the characters Kristen Wiig played on SNL, or in Anchorman 2—awkward, passive, grating”. It’s possible to put all that to one side in course of the mediated experience of a book. Her voice in the audiobook edition is expressive and assertive, while the character whose life it describes is often less so. It’s as a performer that July’s unexpected charm comes to the surface. That’s what she is celebrated for.

Inevitably, July’s story doesn’t involve public service, activism, or a real engagement with the local community in Monrovia, the town where she spontaneously beds down. It’s just not her topic. This emphasis on celebrity (for example, the protagonist’s preoccupation with having a private meeting with the pop singer Arkanda) is an essential part of the book. I suppose community is essentually bland, while July’s concern is with risk-taking and intensity of experience (erotic or otherwise). All the same, her emphasis on individual growth and experience seems to have no counterbalance in terms of ramifying social ties. July’s character floats along in the world of a (admittedly, relatively minor) celebrity, seemingly unaware of the possibilities and responsibilities of solidarity with the mass of ordinary people. But then again, this might be an illusion created by the focus she chose for the narrative of All Fours, rather than a real limitation of July's actual life.

[foster-the-moths]

I would be absolutely honored if you made art inspired by my poems. *insert blushing reaction image here*

As for my feelings on this one, on one hand, I wrote and sent it out quite quickly, so it feels rushed. I’m not sure I like how it turned out. There are a lot of things I would’ve rathered to fix about it and I feel as if I should’ve waited a bit longer. But on the other hand, and I’m not sure how much of this came across in the poem itself, it’s quite personal to me and feels, honestly, like a call out.

The narrator is. Kind of an idiot. Charcoal toothpaste is whitening, but it doesn’t work right away. It takes a long time to see results, and before then, there will be plenty of blood. And even then, whitening is cosmetic. It doesn’t fix the underlying problems. So what’s the point in trying to fix anything when there’s so much wrong with your teeth? It feels overwhelming and hopeless to begin to heal from that, especially when it means getting rid of things you’ve depended on. There’s just so much.

Beginning that healing process, scrubbing off the gunk you’ve been living in so long, is so incredibly stressful and leaves you feeling dirtier than you were before. So you go back to it. And you keep returning to your old addictions because you don’t know how to cope in a healthy way and you’re not even willing to try. Not even if it could improve the future.

So you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. Hurt yourself and everyone around you, or do what feels completely impossible. And if you fail this impossible goal? It is absolutely devastating.

It’s a lot. And that’s why I wrote it, even if I could’ve done a better job.

—Poem anon.

COOOL 👍

also personally i dont think it seems rushed and i really enjoyed it (and sometimes saying 'fuck it we ball' and posting something your not 100% satisfied with is the best way to move forward lol)

and yeah i definitely got the 'call-out' vibes bc i definitely relate to some of the themes of the poem. i've absolutely been stuck in that mindset and wasn't able to escape it for a very long time. so its. VERY relatable. and holy SHIT you are hitting the nail on the head with how you are describing it (both in this ask and in the poem itself)!!!!!! idk its like. you are very good at articulating your thoughts in prose and outside of it. if that makes sense.

and i honestly think you did a great job with this one. i really like your poems, and hearing about the process behind them is really interesting :D

[payeehay]

Jack’s Fucking Dead

---

Part 2 here / Part 3 / The Dissection

tw death, (a little bit of) blood, and suicidal thoughts

—

Out of all the dangerous things Jack worked with every day, he hadn’t expected to be taken down by gravity and a sharp table corner.

He hovered over his body, watching the blood trickle down from his temple, and tried not to panic.

So this was what an out-of-body experience felt like. He couldn’t say he was a fan.

He rolled his body over, put his shaking hands on its chest, tried to push himself back into it, let out a frustrated grunt when it didn’t work.

What if he was-

He didn’t even want to think it.

“Dad?” Jazz. “Is everything okay?” He could hear her footsteps on the stairs.

He panicked. “Everything’s fine, Jazzypants,” he called, and his voice was echoed and distorted in a way that he very much did not like. “Don’t come down here, uh, very dangerous experiment going on!”

But she was already there, frozen, hand still gripping the railing, and she muttered, “Holy shit.”

This must look worse than he thought, because his Jazzy just swore. He’d already thought it was bad.

She started crossing the room, toward him, and he backed up a little. “Did you-” she swallowed. “Die?”

He put up his hands. “Of course not! I’m just, having an out-of-body experience! That’s all!” Maybe if he said it loud enough, he would believe it.

“Dad…” She knelt down next to his body, put two fingers on its neck, and after a moment, she looked up at him. “Dad…” she said again, and from the somber look on her face, she didn’t have to say anything else.

“No…” was all he said, because it was all he could think. He pushed back down to his body, tried to phase into it again, and after a moment, Jazz gently pushed him away.

“That’s not going to work,” she informed him.

“It has to!” He tried again, and again, more desperate each time, pounding on its chest with both palms, until Jazz finally pushed him away again, a little more firmly this time.

He stared across the lab. “I can’t be dead. That would mean I’m a-” he faltered, tried again. “-a ghost.”

Jazz only nodded.

“But I can’t be a ghost! Ghosts are malevolent! Mischievous! …Another M word!”

“Not all of them. Some choose to be, but I’ve met several that were perfectly nice.”

Jack blinked, furrowed his brows. “And where have you been meeting ghosts, young lady?”

“Uh…” She looked away. “I might’ve gone into the ghost zone a few times?”

“Jazz!”

She waved her hands. “Never alone! And we always took the spectre speeder,” she assured him.

That was a little better. “Wait. Has Danny gone with you?”

She looked away again. “Uh…”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Oh God, you two have been flirting with danger-”

She smiled. “Like father, like kids?” she tried.

He sighed. He didn’t really have a rebuttal for that. “No more,” he told her.

She bit her lip. “I can’t promise that.”

“Jazzy…” he warned her.

Her hands went up again. “Not without a good reason, okay?”

That was probably about the best he was going to get. (Did he even have a right to be trying to parent them when he was a ghost?)

He tried to sit on the table that had killed him, accidentally phased through, settled for floating near it. “Okay. So…what now?”

“Well, Danny and I can probably take you into the zone and help you find your lair, maybe introduce you to some of our ghost friends,” she offered.

Jack could not articulate how much he didn’t want that. For once, he didn’t want to think about ghosts, or ghostly rage, or ectoweapons, or being ripped apart molecule by molecule… (Was that his fate? Should it be?)

“That sounds great, Jazzeroo,” he replied.

Jazz smiled, and reached for him, and he scooted back again. He couldn’t let her near him, couldn’t let her get hurt.

Just then, Maddie’s voice came from the stairwell. “Jack? Jazz?”

He couldn’t let her see him like this, he had to hide. But when he looked down, he saw that he had disappeared entirely, and he yelped.

“I have groceries, can you two-” She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, like Jazz had, and then she was screaming his name, running over, tripping over her feet, falling to her knees at his body’s side.

“Jazz, what happened??” she demanded.

“He’s…gone,” Jazz answered.

“But I heard his voice!”

Jazz looked at him, and how was she doing that if he was invisible? “Well, he’s not gone entirely…”

“But-” and he saw the realization dawn on her face. “Is he a… ghost?”

“Yes,” he admitted, and look at that, he was visible again.

It took only a second for Maddie to get her gun trained on him.

“Mom, don’t! It’s Dad!” Jazz cried, but Maddie ignored her. She stepped closer.

“If you are Jack, then what’s our one rule?” she asked.

His face fell. “Never trust a ghost.”

“Right. So why should I trust you?”

He deflated even more. “I don’t know.”

“To be fair, he totally had the ability to hurt us while he was alive, too, but he never did,” Jazz spoke up. “I’ve been chatting with him for a little while now, and I can promise you, he’s still just Dad.”

Maddie hesitated for several excruciatingly long seconds, and Jack just waited, dreading her verdict. (Was he hoping she’d accept him? Or that she wouldn’t?)

Slowly, she holstered her gun, and stepped up to him. He resisted the urge to back away, realized he was still floating, dropped to the floor. The less ghostly, the better.

She put her hands on his face, looked deep into his eyes. “Alright, I’ll give you a pass because you’re my husband.” She dug her fingertips into his cheeks, narrowed her eyes. “But if you make one wrong move around the kids…”

“I’ll be eating hot ectolead,” he finished. He found that the thought reassured him. If he messed up, if he lost control, she would be there to end him once and for all.

“Right,” she said, and patted his cheek.

There was a pause, and then Jazz clapped her hands. “So, how about those groceries? I bet they’re getting warm.”

They all looked at each other, and Jack nodded. As they all started for the stairs, he thought how this wasn’t the best situation, but he supposed it could be worse.

[nightwishesworld]

Jealous

Warning: NSFW

You sat up on the bed once Alcina kneeled in front of you. She began to take off your pants while you unbuttoned your shirt, revealing more smooth skin. Alcina kissed your navel and guided your pants down your legs. Your body tingled as her lips began moving slowly below your navel. You opened your mouth, but only air seeped out of it. She continued to kiss and nibble your lower torso, simultaneously guiding her hands across your butt cheeks. You reached behind her head and tried to fight the urge to push her down to where you really want her. Instead, you grabbed Alcina’s chin and leaned down to kiss her.

Your tongues continued to passionately dance around each other as she gently pushed you to lie back and climbed on top of you. At the same time, you subtly started thrusting your hips against her, getting more and more aroused.

“Wait-“ You push her away and look towards the bedroom doors. She gives you a curious look but doesn’t hesitate to give you space. “I forgot I’ve got Jacob bringing me my tea. He should be here any minute.”

She rolls her eyes and continues her assault on your neck. “Is that all? Forgive me, I thought it was something important.” Alcina began moving her lips down from your neck to your shoulder. Each section of skin that was explored by her tongue made you moan, and every time she found a spot she hadn't previously kissed, your moans became more intense. “I don’t like him.”

“I know you don’t,” you say with a shaky voice. “I don’t flip over him either, but he’s one of our best staff.”

“He wants you. He looks at you like I look at you.” She bites down on your collar bone. “Like he wants to worship your body day in and day out.”

You held her head in place, one hand behind her head, and the other stretched out to grip the bedsheets. “No need to be jealous, Alci. I am loyal to you and only you. Besides, he knows his place.”

"That doesn't mean he gets to admire what isn't his."

You could feel yourself slipping, losing control, becoming more in tune with Alcina's body, and less present with the real world. The thought of what was happening made your heart skip a beat. Alcina pushes a stocking-covered thigh between your bare ones, and you gasp at the pressure. Alcina’s eyes light up at your reaction.

"I'm going to fuck you all night," She growled when your mouths finally parted, her fingers reaching under your clothes and curling inside you.

"Yes, Al!" You groaned as Alcina smiled lewdly at you. The hand between your legs never relented, soft fingers probing into warm, wet depths. The other hand came up to cup your breast. Then, you felt lips and tongue working over your nipple.

You gasped, and squirmed, your senses on fire.

“That bastard thinks he can have you, my porumbel mic? Fuck no. You’re mine. Only mine.”

You nodded and bucked your hips slightly, feeling her fingers surge into you deeper.

You gasped as the kisses trailed lower, and could feel Alcina’s tongue working over your soft skin. The matriarch pressed her body tightly against you and slowly slid lower, positioning herself between your legs, now spread and held in place.

Alcina’s eyes were filled with lust and the heavy feeling of power, as she looked up at the beautiful woman held captive and in her thrall. The heavenly scent of your arousal filled her nose, and Alcina’s mouth started to water. Her fingers were still inside her lover, and the vampire could feel how tight and aroused you were.

"You are mine and mine alone. Do you understand me?"

You groaned softly and nodded. "Yes, Lady Dimitrescu.”

Alcina smiled at her title and rewarded her love with a slow, trailing kiss over the inside of your thigh that caused you to squirm. She slowly removed her fingers, leaving you squirming and whimpering.

"What, porumbel mic? Do you want something?"

"Please, Alci...."

"Please what?"

You only whimpered, and it made Alcina smile. The dominant woman pressed the tips of her fingers gently against your wet, swollen opening and entered you again, setting a much faster pace this time. The instant vibration made your hips buck, and you cried out in pleasure.

Slowly, Alcina pushed deeper into you, watching you squirm and writhe.

Alcina leaned down and inhaled your scent again. It was too much to bear. She leaned forward and kissed your sex.

The sensation of Alcina’s tongue and lips against your clitoris was ecstasy. You couldn't stop the cries of bliss that escaped your lips.

Alcina dove into your swollen womanhood; her fingers pressed deeply inside you now, her lips and tongue working over your soft nether lips.

The feeling of your thighs brushing against her face, convulsing around her head, your hips bucking against the vampire’s face was so sensual, so sexy, it made her ravenous.

Alcina’s tongue flicked your clit again and again and again to lap around your nether lips, trying to catch the delicious nectar of your arousal.

You could feel her tongue as it traced lovingly over your sex, never a single spot left unkissed.

She could feel you coming closer and closer to orgasm; the fine muscles clenching around her fingers told her of what was about to come.

"Not yet, my beautiful, not yet," she murmured, as she slowly pulled her tongue from your throbbing pussy. She smiled in pleasure as she heard you whimper as she removed her fingers.

You suddenly felt empty, almost painfully so as you hovered so close to orgasm. “Please, Lady Dimitrescu. Let me cum please.”

You look up to see her staring at the bedroom doors. Her eyes are glowing with mischief.

“Is he there, Alci?” You ask in a low voice.

She only hums in response, never breaking eye contact with the door. “He must have heard you. His heart rate is rising. Wanna get rid of him?”

You bite your lower lip in an attempt to try and hide your broad smile. “Wanna give him a show? Remind him who I belong to?”

“I thought you would never ask.” She kissed you quickly and stood before you lost control again, making her way to the bedside drawer.

You feel yourself become wetter as you watch her slip her dress off and exchange it for a strap-on and harness. “Eight inches, darling?”

You nod your head eagerly.

Alcina grabs you by the waist and flips you over effortlessly. You turn to smirk back at her, letting her know you’re on board by climbing up to your hands and knees and slowly swaying your hips from side to side. Alcina’s eyes glint back at you and she makes a soft noise of appreciation, hands running slowly up your thighs before smoothing over the round globes of your ass and gripping your hips. You shiver, desperate for Alcina to be back inside you.

"Please don't tease, I need you." She lines up the toy with your entrance.

"Think you take the whole thing at once?" She asks.

"Oh yes." That was all she needed to hear before she slowly pushed the full length into you, filling your pussy. "Oh fuck! Yes, fill me, baby. Don't hold back, fuck me hard. I want the whole castle to know how good you fuck me.”

That was already the plan.

She starts with a slow pace as she stretches you. Even when you’re blinded with ecstasy and wanna be fucked into the mattress, ALCINA always makes sure to be careful with you. But right now, you are far too impatient for her to be gentle. You squirm and tried to squeeze your thighs together.

She kisses your shoulder, withdraws the cock slowly one more time, and then slams into you hard. She doesn’t don't tease anymore. She’s fucking you hard and fast. As deep as she can. The sound of your flesh hitting the toy as it moves in and out fills the room, it sounds absolutely obscene. You let out a moan.

“Louder, Love, I want the entire staff to know you belong to me. I want HIM to hear me fuck you.”

You cry out her name as she turns you around and lifts you. Your legs wrap around her waist as your arms go around her neck. She bounces you up and down on her cock and you yell out her name.

"Alci, please, oh Lady Dimitrescu yes! I love you so fucking much!" She looks pleased enough.

Her vampiric senses are telling her Jacob is still standing just outside of the door. His heart rate is frantically climbing. His ear must be pressed flat against the door listening to your euphoric cries. It turned her on knowing her “rival” right outside listening to her fuck you senseless; claiming you as hers.

She then brings her hand to your clit. She must have really meant it when she said she wants everyone working at the castle to know that you are hers and hers alone. You let out a loud cry, her hand on your clit is driving you so close to the edge.

You’re thankful Alcina can carry you without a problem. Because there is no way you’re going to be able to walk any time soon. "Fuck Alci. I’m so close baby. I’m gonna cum- I'm going to come on your cock. Please don't stop, Alci, I am all yours and only yours!”

She bites down hard into your neck. Not sinking her fangs into you, but more than hard enough to leave you marked. “That’s right, porumbel mic, you belong to me and only me. You’re a slave to my love and no one else gets to feel it. Do know how good you look? How fucking tight you are on my cock?” Alcina growls darkly, moving back to nibble at your neck, hips still moving to fill you. “So fucking good, better than I ever dreamt.”

Her mouth drops sloppy kisses at your nape, exerted, choked moans released with them as Alcina fucks you into oblivion. She's nearly sobbing, short of breath, broken encouragements barely articulated as she moves her pelvis as best she can.

“Come for me, Love, I'm so damn close...shit, you feel so good, come for me, yes...”

Alcina’s commands whispered into your neck finally send you over the edge; you push back into her until it hurts, wanting as much of Alcina Dimitrescu as you can take, cresting with a strangled scream. Your body convulses, white-hot from head to toe as your neck snaps back and momentarily blinded to everything that isn't raw sensation. You collapse down on Alcina’s front and she reaches back to thread her nails through your hair as she thrusts erratically, and comes shortly afterward with a guttural moan.

You both stay like that for a few minutes, simply basking in the afterglow before Alcina shifts to remove the toy from inside you. She laid you down carefully on the mountain of decorative pillows

After regaining some of her composure, Alcina lifts you off the cock as tenderly as possible and tucks you under the covers. You move to pull the covers down on her side and wait for her to join you in open arms. She kisses the top of your head while undoing the harness. "In a minute, darling."

She slips the harness off and tosses her dress on, making her way to the doors.

"Where are you going?" The vampire only turns back to wink at you before swinging the door open to find the servant adjusting his trousers. Alcina glares down at him, arching a perfectly sculpted brow as if she isn't aware of what he was doing.

"L-lady Dimitrescu," he bowed. "I was just bringing some tea to-"

Alcina takes the now cold tea from his trembling hands. "I find it incredibly unprofessional of members of my staff to be eavesdropping on my private affairs."

His face flushed a deep scarlet. "I-I'm so sorry, Lady Dimitrescu. I had no intention on-"

"You're lucky your employment falls under my partner's jurisdiction; if it were up to me you would be stripped of your employment here and right to wander my corridors. My daughters would haul you off to the basement to do with you what they wish, is that what you want?"

Jacob shook his head vigorously. "No, Lady Dimitrescu. I beg for your forgiveness, this will never happen again."

"See to it that it doesn't or else your fate will be in the hands of my daughters. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, Lady Dimitrescu."

"Good. Any repeat offenses will not be tolerated from this moment on. Now go and fetch us a pitcher of water and a bottle of Sanguis Virgini," Alcina steps away from the door just enough for the man to peer in the room. His jaw almost hits the floor when he sees you laying in bed naked under the sheets, chest rising and falling in rhythm with your heavy breathing, and the obviously used cock and harness abandoned on the floor. If he were paying more attention to Alcina he would have noticed the very proud smile on her face as he's put back in his proper place. "My poor porumbel mic is simply exhausted."

"I'll return with your drinks as quickly as possible, Lady Dimitr-" She slams the door on him and returns to join you in bed.

"Was that really necessary, my love?"

Alcina shimmies out of her dress and climbs into bed with you, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you against her. "No, but it was certainly fun. You should have seen the state we put him in," she laughs and kisses your shoulder. "He'll be back again shortly with my wine and water. I'm afraid I was a little too rough with you."

"But you're forgetting something, Alci."

"What's that, dear?"

"I love it when you're rough with me."