#castration mention

[horrorvillaintourney]

HORROR'S NEXT TOP GENDER, ROUND ONE MATCH TWENTY-THREE: Eli (Let the Right One In) vs. Gervatter Todd (Godfather Death [folktale])

PROPAGANDA FOR ELI:

"Canonically AMAB and castrated as a child, presents as a girl but seems to identify as agender or something similar. Being a vampire and also eternally a child probably also affects their relationship to gender. Anyway in theory not great trans representation perhaps but I like them and hope they went on to have a happy un-life. I liked when they murdered all those bullies"

PROPAGANDA FOR TODD:

"This is literally death. There’s several different versions of the story even by the Grimm brothers. In one version he kills his godson for cheating him but in the other it’s unclear if he was truly trying to spite his godson or trying to help him. The whole fairytale has an oddness to it that kinda feels haunting. Here he is straightforward a true believer in looking on everyone equally and it’s unknown if he truly cares about mortals or is just a passive participant in the lives of mortals. I’m not sure if this counts as horror as the story still predates it and other Grimm tales are actively scarier (Bluebeard the youth who went fourth to learn what fear wasor robber bridegroom and the one ghost story for example) but it’s got a very odd feeling to it that leans more towards horror than anything it’s like a page and a half long though so you may deem that for yourself"

[heavenlymusickcorporation]

Albumtober Day 24: The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway

(Prompt: An album that tells a story)

Genesis - The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway (1974)

Another alchemical album from 1974. This bafflingly esoteric rock opera, the last Genesis album to feature Peter Gabriel, tells the story of a youth from New York who goes on a surreal journey to look for his brother, and ends up finding himself.

I've never read anything confirming this, but I would be willing to bet Peter Gabriel has at least a passing knowledge of Hermeticism, esotericism, or at least Carl Jung's psychological alchemy. A lot of Gabriel's work, both with Genesis and in his solo career, seems to contain esoteric themes.

The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway is undoubtedly his magnum opus, his Great Work. The plot is reminiscent of the alchemical phrase "visita interiora terrae rectificando invenies occultum lapidem", which translates to "visit the interior of the earth, and by rectifying (purifying) find the hidden stone." The literal Philosopher's Stone is not referenced in the album, but our protagonist, Rael, goes under the ground, undergoes tribulations and transformations, is "purified" in a manner of speaking (more on that later) and in the end finds that his brother has his own face, and "his consciousness darts from one face to the other, then back again, until his presence is no longer solidly contained in one or the other." Then everything dissolves into haze. Perhaps Rael himself represents the Philosopher's Stone.

Transformation seems to be a theme in this album. After the lamb lies down and the cloud of death descends on New York, Rael passes out and wakes up in a cocoon underground. The next time he wakes up the cocoon is gone and he's trapped in a cage of stalagmites and wishes he could turn to liquid in order to escape. The cage ends up dissolving on its own, and eventually Rael finds himself in a crowd of people who want to escape but don't know the way out because there are too many doors. Could this be seen as a metaphor for those who seek truth/enlightenment but don't know where to turn to because there are too many possible paths? I don't know! (The song right before this, "Carpet Crawlers", includes a lyric saying "the liquid has congealed." Just thought I'd note that.) Rael escapes with the help of a blind woman and after a near-death experience encounters a pool with three Lamia who embrace him and nibble at his flesh, then die, and he eats them. The pool could be seen as the alchemical vessel of sorts, in which a union takes place. After this, Rael begins transforming into a "slipperman", a sort of diseased being, and the only cure is castration.

There are a lot of things "whipping off your windscreen wiper" could represent in fiction, but here it could be interpreted as purification in a sense, especially since it follows the Lamia encounter and subsequent slipperman transformation. It occurs towards the end of the album, the final stage in Rael's journey. (His brother John also undergoes the procedure, having made it to the slipperman colony before him.) After chasing down a raven which steals the severed member, Rael ends up at a subterranean river. A skylight shows a glimpse of New York above, and Rael has a chance to escape, but John is drowning, and Rael enters the water to save him. As mentioned earlier, it turns out "John" is also Rael, and the two bodies are one self. They dissolve into a haze which "fills everything with its mysterious intoxicating presence." Again, this is rich with symbolism. Water again is entered. Two bodies become (or turn out to be) one person, although in this case the two are the same, unlike the usual alchemical union where the two would be opposites.

The last song on the album refers to "it". What is it? Well, it seems to be something inexplainable, something which is in everything. Is it soul, spirit, Anima Mundi? Is it rock and roll? "If you think that it's pretentious, you've been taken for a ride." I feel like this album really is like some kind of esoteric treatise, and whatever it is can't just be explained exoterically. I could be reading too much into it, of course, but a lot of the symbolism in the album seems deliberate. The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway is Genesis's magnum opus in the conventional sense, but the term might very well apply in the alchemical sense as well.

Favorite tracks: "In The Cage", "Carpet Crawlers", "Back In N.Y.C."

[arathergrimreaper]

Things I did not expect to be researching today:

The structure of Mandarin naming patterns

Wolf collars

The colonization of Australia and the earliest settlers' relationships with the original peoples.

Korean court eunuchs and their longevity compared to their uncastrated peers

Biggie Smalls

Tell me, fellow writers, what strange collections have y'all amassed today?

[legobenkenobi]

the thing about codywan’s lightsaber scenes that absolutely guts me is that in tcw arc about keeping another’s saber (where they directly say it’s used in a romantic connotation) is that for the other couple, it’s a purposeful demonstration. it’s used to PROVE something. it’s used because that feeling of trust isn’t being properly portrayed in their relationship, so this is their proof. this is their display of that.

but, for codywan, it’s completely natural. there isn’t any extensive thought put into it. it just… happens.

the reason Obi-Wan throws his lightsaber to Cody specifically is because both he and Cody feel that deep, steady trust organically. it’s not something that needs to be said in words. they live that trust out, every day. it developed over time, much like their appreciation for each other. there’s no need to prove it. it just… exists. it’s not a show of anything. it just happens. and it’s so natural that it happens twice.

they trust each other, wholly and completely, and it’s never something shown through big gestures. it’s just the little things, because they don’t Need big things. they know exactly how they feel for one another on their own. and i really, really like that.

[thehecklingmouse]

unity is going to challenge god

[knuckleblaster]

[softgrungeprophet]

Peter Parker swearing:

"Holy @$#%%" - ("Holy shit") (Amazing Spider-Man #597)

—

"@☆xxx%#@ bureaucrats!" - ("Goddamn/Fucking bureaucrats!") (Amazing Spider-Man #244)

—

"#$%& me" - ("Fuck me.") (Amazing Spider-Man #798)

—

"#^&$!&!! Johnny Storm and then %#^@$#$&@! his %@#$^!!" - (your guess is as good as mine) (FF vol 1 #17)

—

"Insulate the hell out of it." (bonus dirty talking his own suit, with his tits out) (Sensational Spider-Man vol 2 #27)

—

"Aw, #$%&." ("Aw, shit," knowing Slott's Whedon-esque dialogue patterns, but I'm choosing to read it as "Aw, fuck" instead) (Spider-Man vol 4 #10)

—

Will add more as I come across them.

I'm trying to amass a collection... literally no reason other than "for funsies" lol — so on the off chance anyone wants to send me any other scenes of Peter swearing or saying questionably inappropriate things, feel free! i just ask you to keep it to 616 comics peter/spidey only, preferably, and please include the issue number 🙏

(also don't send me the panel of Ben cussing out a news reporter (iirc), or panels of Kaine. I'm not putting them in this post cause that doesn't count as Peter; they're different people.)

[dailydemonspotlight]

Attis - Day 57

Race: Kishin

Arcana: Hanged Man

Alignment: Light-Neutral

June 18th, 2024

It's odd that this is the first figure from Greek Mythology I'm covering, given how widespread it is throughout the series, honestly, but I'm not complaining. Something that I have to give SMT a lot of props for is how it goes into far more obscure things from mythology- sure, you've got your Thoth's, your Odin's, your Shiva's, and your Baphomets, but something this series does a lot that I adore is that it creates demons for some of the most obscure figures out there. Sure, it makes researching them difficult (a la Porewit) but the spotlights (heh) that this series shines on otherwise obscure figures is fantastic. Case in point, today's Demon of the Day, Attis.

While everyone knows the Greek pantheon, there are so many lesser gods in the sprawling labyrinth of Greek mythology, gods worshipped by obscure cults or left in the tradewinds of history. Attis, of course, was one of these gods, but he also had another reason- he was from a completely different mythological origin. In Phrygian myth, the archetypical 'Mother Nature' was a character named 'Cybele,' who has her own tonnes of myths to tell. However, when the Greeks began to subsume into the rest of the Phrygian people, she was met with a mixed response. Some took her to become a new form of Gaia, the Greek goddess of nature, while others took off and painted her as an exotic goddess whose meaning couldn't be known. Now, what does this have to do with Attis? He was her consort.

The tales surrounding Attis are, and I cannot stress this enough, insane. Everything happens in them from weird amounts of hatred towards an intersex prophetic child, to a cycle of life and rebirth, and I'm a bit scared of going into it, but... okay. Let's do this. Recanted in Catullus 63, the first recorded tale of Attis begins with, and I'm not kidding, him castrating himself. Right off the bat. Yup, this is one of those stories. And I quote,

Over the vast main borne by swift-sailing ship, Attis, as with hasty hurried foot he reached the Phrygian wood and gained the tree-girt gloomy sanctuary of the Goddess, there roused by rabid rage and mind astray, with sharp-edged flint downwards dashed his burden of virility. Then as he felt his limbs were left without their manhood, and the fresh-spilt blood staining the soil, [text]

We just got here! Okay, okay, I'll continue. The story goes on to describe the aftereffects, and the motivation for this sudden castration, that being a fanatical obsession with the nature goddess, Cybele. After he awakens in likely the world's first (and worst) hangover, he looks out and bemoans his fate, having been left behind by his companions who had already run to pursue the goddess. However, from what I can tell of this story, given the confusing wording, the goddess grants the man permission to drive one of her nuns to 'his allegiance.' I can assume this means someone in his home kingdom, but I'm not very sure? It might be referring to the goddess herself. My lack of knowledge in ye olden terms has made this a headache and a half. Later in the story, after his self-mutilation led to his death, he would later be revived by Cybele, becoming her consort.

A later addition expands on this, giving light to Attis' birth- in the story regarding it, it begins with, as always, Zeus being Zeus. In the tale, he fell in love with Cybele, who didn't return his advances, but... of course, with him being himself, he forced himself on her. Her child would later be reared, a deity called Agdistis who was notable for being a hermaphrodite, essentially 'male and female.' For whatever reason, the gods got terrified of how particularly powerful they were, and proceeded to... castrate Agdistis. What the fuck is with the castration?! Jesus Christ! From the blood left behind, an almond tree spurted forth, and a nearby woman named Nana would decide to take an almond and put it in her bosom. Okay. This led to her getting pregnant. Okay. Later on, she would give birth to the newborn Attis, before promptly throwing the kid out into the nature, to which he was soon raised by a goat. Oh kay.

A lot of stuff relating to Attis has been lost to time, especially given that he was only really worshipped in, you guessed it, cults. Originally, separated from the Greek mythology he would later be co-opted into, a cult formed surrounding him in 1250 BCE, in-and-around an area of modern-day Turkey called, and I kid you not, Dindymon. Originally worshipped as a semi-deity in the area, he would later become slowly integrated into Greek mythology as several Greek cults began to form surrounding Attis around the fourth century BCE. In Phrygian culture, later adapted into Greek, Attis was a deity who represented vegetation and the cycle of fruits- particularly, the castration story (yes, again) represented the idea of fruits dying in the winter then coming back in the spring; the date of Attis's revival, that being the spring equinox, is no coincidence. Frankly, though, as pretty as this concept is, the absurd amount of castration in his stories is just... Why? Why are you like this, Greek Mythology?

Okay, now with all of that over with, how is he portrayed in the series? I honestly really like his design. The bandages and the blade make him look rather unique, and I really do enjoy just how bizarre he looks. Wait, but is the reason why his legs are separated from his body...

No.

You have got to be fucking KIDDING ME.

IT'S CASTRATION AGAI

[lokiinmediasideblog]

Sif + Skadi=Marvel!Sif

Because I promised I'd elaborate on that last post. This is part 1/3.

Marvel’s Sif similarities to Sif are quite few and mostly based around Loki cutting her hair. Sif is very gender conforming in the original mythology, unlike her MCU counterpart.

The few similarities are:

1. Loki cuts her hair.

-In the myths, Sif has long blonde hair like wheat fields (she is a harvest goddess). Loki cuts it while she slept, bringing Thor’s wrath upon him. Under threat, Loki is forced to replace her hair and does so by procuring magic golden hair from the dwarves.

-In the comics, Sif was originally blonde. Loki cuts her hair for a variety of reasons/circumstances depending on the comic run/series. Loki is then forced to replace her hair, but he refuses to pay the dwarves. So to spite him, the dwarves curse the magical golden hair to turn permanently black upon placement. Dark hair is played as a tragedy that would have marred Sif’s beauty, and Thor is portrayed as such a good person to still be infatuated with Sif! (*ugh* thanks I hate it).

-In the MCU, according to the composer Natalie Holt (so take it with a grain of salt as it’s technically an “outside source”), Loki slept with Sif and then cut her hair as a prank. Her hair didn’t change colors and Loki did not replace it but Sif got her vengeance by kicking Loki in the crotch. Notice that Thor had no part in demanding restitution from Loki, unlike the other two occasions mentioned above.

2. Sif is important to Thor.

-In the myths, Sif is Thor’s wife. Thor threatens Loki to get them to replace Sif’s hair.

-In the comics, Sif is Thor’s childhood sweetheart and lover but not the endgame love interest. She’s also in his close group of warrior friends. Thor threatens Loki to replace Sif’s hair.

-In the MCU, she is one of Thor’s close friends. There seemed to be no romantic overtones. This is the one time Loki is not threatened into replacing her hair.

Brief overview on Skadi: Skadi is the Goddess of Winter, Vengeance, Hunting, and Skiing. Her origin is speculated to be associated with the Sámi people (Davidson, 1993). Skadi’s name is associated with “scathe” and “injury.” She is speculated to be associated with Loki’s punishment. There’s a theory she is associated with Ullr, another god of skiing and may be a female counterpart to him. Another theory states that she might have been a male deity at first (Davidson, 1993). Her father, Thiazi, threatened Loki into making an oath to get Idunn and her golden apples for him. The whole scheme resulted in Loki having to rescue Idunn, and Thiazi being killed by the Aesir upon her rescue by burning him with a massive bonfire as he chased Loki and Idunn. A furious Skadi seeks revenge upon the Aesir. The Aesir decide to give her some recompense for her father’s slaying which include (I)Thiazi’s eyes being yeeted into the sky and turned to stars. (II) Allowing her to pick a husband from amongst the Aesir (with stipulations ). (III) Skadi asks to be made to laugh. The last task falls to Loki, naturally.

Skadi's rather unusual in the following ways:

-Skadi is given an unusual amount of authority to placate her for Thiazi’s death despite being a Jotnar and a woman. A furious Skadi seeks revenge upon the Aesir, armored for battle. The Aesir decide to give her some recompense for her father’s slaying rather than just siccing Thor on her like they usually do (it's mentioned they didn't want to spill blood within Asgard, so I guess she got lucky?).

-One of the restitutions is that Skadi is allowed to pick a husband from the Aesir with stipulations. She wants Balder, the fairest of the Gods (who's already married). But, she can only select her potential husband by looking at their feet. She picks the nicest feet thinking they most be Balder's but they're actually the sea god Njord's sand-exfoliated feet from walking on the beach. They eventually divorce.

-Someone will make Skadi laugh. Loki was tasked with this and the way Loki accomplished this was through his own emasculation.

-Compare her agency to the other goddesses who generally find themselves in danger of being traded away to giants in exchange for goods and services despite being warriors and sorceresses themselves (*poor Freyja*). She's not the only warrior goddess, as Freyja is a war deity in charge of the Valkyries, but she is never in danger of being traded away.

-She is one of two Jotnar women that married into the Vanir. But Gerdr has little agency or dialogue within the Poetic Edda compared to Skadi.

Marvel!Sif's similarities with Skadi:

-Skadi is the most masculine goddess of the Norse pantheon role-wise and authority-wise as mentioned previously. Marvel's Sif is GNC by Asgard's standards as a shield maiden.

-Mutual dislike with Loki:

(i) Loki caused her father’s (Thiazi) death indirectly though the Aesir were the ones that killed him. Loki achieves making her laugh through his own emasculation.

(ii) In Marvel it's because Loki cut Sif's hair.

(iii) Skadi places the serpent that drips venom upon a bound Loki.

-Loki is humiliated in some way involving his genitals to make up for the affronts Loki committed.

(i) In the myths, Loki is tasked with making Skadi laugh and ties his genitals to a goat’s beard and play a game of tug-of-war to make Skadi laugh. The rope breaks, he falls upon Skadi’s lap, and she laughs her ass off.

(ii) In the MCU, Loki was kicked in the crotch by an angry Sif after he cut her hair. While MCU!Sif is more benign to MCU!Loki than Skadi is to Loki, it is interesting that she was used by the TVA to punish MCU!Loki through a Time Loop of beatings. Don't get mad at me, but the realization came from making "Can't believe Mobius gave Loki CBT #FunWithAcronyms" jokes and realizing the myths also had Loki making up for his trespasses through CBT. Don't google it if you don't know what it is.

-Skadi's name is associated with the word "scathe" and "injury." She is believed to have an association with punishing Loki, as Skadi places the serpent that drips burning venom upon bound Loki (Lindow, 2001). By having the TVA USE Sif to punish Loki, they made MCU!Sif associated with punishing Loki.

-Skadi and Loki are mirrors in some ways in terms of their gender nonconformity. Skadi exercises an unusual amount of agency for a goddess, to the point where it's theorized Skadi might have originally been a male deity (Davidson, 1993). Whereas Loki is often portrayed as losing status due to activities that are considered "emasculating." Loki is also speculated to be associated with the Sámi people (Laidoner, 2012). It is also speculated the way Loki makes her laugh is based on a castration ritual (Lindow, 2001).

Davidson, D.H.E., & Davidson, H.E. (1993). The Lost Beliefs of Northern Europe (1st ed.). Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203408506

Laidoner, Triin. (2012) The Flying Noaidi of the North: Sámi Tradition Reflected in the Figure Loki Laufeyjarson in Old Norse Mythology. SCRIPTA ISLANDICA.

Lindow, J. (2001). Norse mythology a guide to the gods, heroes, rituals, and beliefs. Oxford University Press.

I also cite Jackson Crawford's video on Skadi.

[theprogrockbstheorist]

My 1st Impression Thoughts on The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway: Incredibly Weird and Weirdly Incredible

TW: mentions of death, male genitalia, castration, sexuality

Well, that was certainly one of the experiences of all time! If you’re unfamiliar, The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway is a rock opera by Genesis, released in 1974. The line-up consisted of Peter Gabriel (lead vocals, flute), Tony Banks (piano, keys), Steve Hackett (guitars), Mike Rutherford (bass, guitars), and Phil Collins (drums and vocals). It was the final album of this line-up before Gabriel left to form a solo career, and this was also primarily Gabriel’s project.  I have a whole list of my first reactions that I took down as notes as I was listening to the album, if anyone’s interested, by the way!

The plot is not exactly simple, per se, and everything about this album seems slightly confusing: Rael is introduced as a tough city kid living in New York City, with the opening song depicting him walking down Broadway. He then encounters a lamb lying down on Broadway, and shortly after sees a “wall of death” approaching him, after which is thrown into another world, awakening in a cocoon. He goes back to sleep, and awakes again in a stalactite/stalagmite cage, in which he sees his brother, John, standing outside the cage, and then receives visions of other people interconnected in cages like his. He then awakes to “The Great Parade of Lifeless Packaging”, which appears to be some otherworldly company responsible for making people and maintaining some universal cosmic balance. The next part of the plot is unclear on whether he actually goes back to NYC, or simply receives visions of his life, but it describes his life in NYC outside this other realm, in which he describes himself as being tough and a criminal. He also receives a vision of him trying to make a move on a woman, using a manual he bought in the song “Counting Out Time”. Needless to say, Rael fails, and somehow he ends up in the area of the “Carpet Crawlers”, which he has to move past. After passing the carpet crawlers, he encounters some sort of banquet and a spiral staircase, which he ascends into a chamber with 32 doors, and encounters a pale, blind woman (“Lilywhite Lilith”), who offers to help him out.

 “Lilywhite Lilith” does indeed lead him out, however takes him to see the “Supernatural Anesthetist”, aka Death. After his encounter with Death, he notices a smell which leads him to meet the Lamia, which are snakes with the heads and breasts of women. These snakes mate with Rael, and then they die. When they die, Rael decides to fuckin eat them, for some reason. I don’t know man, I didn’t write this album. Anyway, after consuming the Lamia, he finds the colony of Slippermen, which have all been deformed due to their encounters with the Lamia. Rael also finds his brother John there, and they visit Doktor Dyper to treat the source of their illness: their genitals. In order to treat this, Doktor Dyper must castrate them. 

Yeah. 

Before this, I thought the weirdest plot line in all of prog was “Hemispheres”, but at least no one gets fuckin castrated in “Hemispheres”. Digression aside, they are given their members in a tube, which a raven promptly steals from Rael. Rael implores his brother to help him catch his phallus in a tube (honestly, this whole thing feels like a Greek myth), and upon chasing after the raven, ends up on an embankment, overlooking a ravine. He notices a way out of this other world, but the portal is slowly closing, and then he sees what appears to be his brother drowning in the ravine. He goes after his brother, risking staying in this other world instead of returning to New York, and upon rescuing his brother, it is revealed that it was not his brother at all, but rather a reflection of himself. The album basically ends on this note. 

Did you get all that? Yeah, me neither. The whole album feels like some unholy mix of a r/NoSleep story and The Who’s Tommy. It’s incredible, it’s weird, and it’s definitely incredibly weird. It’s definitely a Level Three Concept Album, and a bizarre one at that. Now, of course, this begs the question: what does all this mean? 

To be honest, I’m not sure if there’s just one answer to that, or if there is an answer at all. To me, Rael is not meant to represent reality at all: he’s meant to represent illusion and fantasy, and the world he finds himself in is reflective of that. His brother, John, who leaves and reappears several times, is actually supposed to represent reality. John’s transformation into Rael at the end is meant to show how often reality and fiction blur, and how one can be trapped inside the subconscious. None of the places that Rael visits, including Broadway, are “real”. Broadway itself is home to actors, which intentionally blurs the lines of reality, “The Grand Parade of Lifeless Packaging” represents how people are shaped by external forces, the “Carpet Crawlers” sequence is some kind of critique of religion, “The Lamia” sequence has to do with sexual fantasy, whereas “The Colony of the Slipperman” is the consequences of that sexual fantasy, and the castration sequence is symbolic of repressing one’s desires in favor of maturity. 

However, that’s just my interpretation of it from listening to it for the first time, and I think the biggest part of the Lamb is that it can really be interpreted anyway you’d like. I don’t think it has a set meaning, except for the various transformations that Rael and the other characters undergo. Rael’s journey can be symbolic of a struggle with mental illness, or even a trans allegory. As stated in the liner notes, “This lamb has nothing to with Rael, or any other lamb— it just lies down on Broadway.” This could suggest that all the symbolism present isn’t really symbolic of anything at all except whatever the listener thinks it means, and to me, that’s part of its charm. 

Now, onto the music! I won’t spend too much time on this, because I was primarily focusing on the lyrics on my first listen, but I was blown away by the musicianship on my first listen. To be honest, I’m guilty of underestimating Genesis when it comes to musicianship, but I certainly won’t be doing that anymore! I was particularly surprised by Banks’ keyboard and piano playing— I often saw him listed in the likes of Emerson and Wakeman, but I never really understood why until now. Furthermore, I was really impressed by Genesis’ ability to play in weird time signatures, but still make it “groove”, which is something that a lot of other major prog bands have a problem doing. I also actually enjoyed the short soundscapes before some of the songs, because I thought they helped set the mood. The transitions on this album were very smooth as well. 

Overall, I have to give it a couple more listens, but this might be my favorite rock opera of all time. It’s at least an 8/10 from my first listen alone. I’m absolutely fascinated by the plot, and I’ll hopefully do a proper analysis or two at some point! 

[bigbobbiehorror]

wwwwwwhait HODL UP

I knew that this would ultimately involve a fight one way or another, but holy shit, i didn't expect that his first 'euphoric episode' went down like that.

Wish someone told him that being non binary was a thing.

[pennycutenice]

Transness, weird signs, pain and becoming a great actor because of it

To me thinking about the following thing no longer triggers emotional reactions, but is probably triggering for some, so be warned and look at the tags please.

I just remembered a weird sign of me being trans going back to puberty ten years ago. I was obsessed with chemical castration. Like, I wanted to be chemically castrated so bad I envied sex criminals that forcefully got the drugs. I tried to find stuff I could get my hands on regularly for many years because having erections was so awful. It frustrated me and made me angry. And since this topic is so taboo I could not talk to anyone about it. So I was just in distress regularly for years until my general bleak outlook on life killed any healthy biological function down there for the most part lol.

Today I am angry at the world. Had I been taught what transness (or autism) is at any point in my life so much pain could have been prevented. Like, I am an obvious case. I wanted girl toys and was mostly friends with girls until puberty and literally wished to wake up as a girl and read gender bending stories und layed awake at night angry about my awful boy body. But nobody noticed my distress. To be fair, I hid it better and better over time. If physical pain patients learn to manage abhorrent pain without looking out of the ordinary after some time that's probably possible for emotional pain aswell.

After getting antidepressants and hormones I was genuinely shocked to realize that I could smile honestly that much. Because I am very good at faking a good mood when I feel like I need to to circumvent social punishment. Only about three times in my adult life was my mental health bad enough for me to be able to fake a great mood.

I'm a kinda good actor because of this. I realized young how hiding my emotional state trained my acting capabilities. I won competitions for being able to believably switch between emotions. I went from a very expressive kid in colorful clothing to a numb pessimistic suicidal depressive adult wearing grey every day over seven years because I was weird and wrong and got bullied for it and had no idea what was going on. It was awful.

Now I know I wasn't wrong. I was trans. I was neurodivergent. But since I never actually knew what that meant I just suffered. So god fucking damn it, I want the kids these days to know. Minimize the pain by telling them about how different people can be and how completely okay it is to be this way. You are good. Being like you is fine. You are on your very own spectrum of awesome, kiddos. Don't you ever forget!!!

Anyway now I'm on hormone replacement therapy and chemically castrated by it lmao.

[joemxcmillan]

.

[iscratchdoors]

i know this is the trans website and im preaching to the choir here but there is something to be said about the medical gatekeeping around transition being largely based on the idea that transitioning medically is the risky, dangerous option, while denying that transition to people actively seeking it is safe and harmless. all the medical professionals i've dealt with so far seem to understand the harm that comes to a cis person who mistakenly transitions and makes irreversible changes to their body, but the idea that that same suffering is also experienced by trans people who have not yet been allowed to transition, to a greater degree even, seems basically non existent. a cis person's ideal gendered appearance is treated as a thing inherently worth protecting and maintaining, while that of a trans person is treated as something they deliberately chose to pursue and don't actually need. the harm that comes to a trans person through putting off any sort of medical (and as a consequence, legal) transition is a thing that does not exist to these people. only the harm that comes to people who regret it is deemed worth considering. that's been my experience anyway

[uraandri]

one of the funniest things my mom ever did was make bbq on the terrace because krušik was being bombed and she wanted to watch

[dumbass-sappho-stan]

hit first and hit hard || challengers

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ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ: ᴀʀᴛ ᴅᴏɴᴀʟᴅꜱᴏɴ, ᴘᴀᴛʀɪᴄᴋ ᴢᴡᴇɪɢ, ᴛᴀꜱʜɪ ᴅᴜɴᴄᴀɴ

— fem! reader

summary: the tennis girl weaves her way through simple lover's quarrels and one manipulative blonde boy.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦(?), 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘴/𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 sleepy 𝘛𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪 𝘋𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘯

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ʜɪ! ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏ, ꜱᴏ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ, ʏ'ᴀʟʟ ᴀʀᴇ ꜱᴏ, ꜱᴏ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ! ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴇᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ꜰᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏ'ᴀʟʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ.

​🇼​​🇴​​🇷​​🇩​ ​🇨​​🇴​​🇺​​🇳​​🇹​: 7.7k

Read Part One here!

𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙏𝙬𝙤: 𝙇𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧

𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙁𝙊𝙍𝘿, 𝘾𝘼𝙇𝙄𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙉𝙄𝘼, 2007

𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺

The days following your fight with Art were rife with silence and solitude. Sequestered alone in your dorm, you lay there either working on your piling homework or listening to 'emo'-esque music to help funnel your emotions, but that still didn't help.

As much as you hate to admit it the one thing that did was tennis. Wanting to avoid Art and even Tashi, you went as early as possible. Every morning since the fight for at least a solid week, you got up at 4:30 AM, dressed, jumped the court fence to practice for about 5 hours, and exited just as the other 'early' players showed up.

It invigorated you to be energized early in the day and you sometimes smashed the ball or even your racquet if you felt like it. Being alone wasn't a new circumstance for you but it was certainly novel as of late. You were so used to Art's presence on the court and in your life.

Dinners were spent together, and silly chats you two had were the norm for at least a year. Not to mention the bizarre push and pull with the romantic tension between you two. Even before Stanford, you'd labored to get his phone number, after begging Tashi for a few days and speaking to him on the phone constantly.

Though, the blonde seemed just as ardent as you in your aversion to one another. He had tried calling you multiple times and texting but it was fruitless. You'd picked up the phone once to only put it back down.

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"I'm so sorry," Art sobbed, he sounded as if someone had stabbed him, "I'm so, so sorry." You said nothing and stayed neutral. You, unfortunately, picked up the phone after Donaldson had called it 23 times in the past 2 days, and decided the 24th would be the last. It was time to be the bigger person and end the fight between you two.

"Me too, Art." Muttering drily you heard his hiccups stop, and a loud sigh of relief. You could almost feel the weight being lifted off of his shoulders.

He whispered your name softly, "I never meant to hurt you. I just... I wanted to say what I thought you wanted."

A sharp pain shot through your chest as those lethal words left his lips and pure white-hot vexation replaced whatever emotion had been there previously. It was silent between the two of you, which confused the boy.

Art called your name but was interrupted, "You know what I want Art Donaldson?" You roared, "For your fucking castration to be slow and painful!"

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The poor cutesy, pink Motorola Razr was no longer a phone after the conversation and lay shattered on your floor for days before you finally felt bad and threw it out. Your new one, a hue of bright cherry red, felt much more fitting for this new lifestyle.

Tashi you didn't actually avoid, more like you didn't tell her what was wrong. If beating around the bush was a professional sport you would've left tennis ages ago. Every time you and Tashi would be talking, in your small instants outside of your room or the court that week, Art would approach and you'd immediately give these automated lines;

"Oh shit, Tashi, sorry I got an essay to write!"

"Oops! I forgot I had a thing I have to get to so.."

"It's what time? I gotta go walk my fish!"

Ausispously, these went unnoticed by Tashi because in every single one of the instances you slipped away back to your dorm and to your desolation, without as much as a blink from your friend. If you weren't so content in your loneliness you probably would have been much more uncertain or at least unhappy about her sudden disconnect from you, but chalked it up to Patrick being in town for a longer period.

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𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗖𝗞 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗖𝗞

𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗖𝗞 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗖𝗞

The loud pounds landed dully against your door and woke you up immediately. Your body sat up and the sun's harsh blare into your tiny room flashed in your face, nearly blinding you upon waking up. You frantically glanced around your dorm room, seeing if it was something inside rather than external.

But no, all in your room were your postered walls full of music artists, art pieces themselves, silly photos of you and your friends from home (though most of those photos were overshadowed by Tashi's), and other miscellaneous items that sat around. In the small moment of silence between pounds, you began to slightly enjoy the pleasing sight of how pretty your room looked in the California dawning sun.

However, you were quickly slapped back into reality because the pounding had not ceased; seemingly getting louder if it was imaginable. What the fuck... That specific thought rattled through your foggy brain and your face contorted to deep confusion—even fear. Yet, you finally got the motivation to gradually inch toward the door, not even knowing who the fuck could be on the other side. The door rattled and shook explosively the closer you got until a hand to the handle.

The metal felt cool and smooth under your grasp. Soon flinching at the pounding and slightly wondered how your neighbors didn't get pissed off yet. But, you focused and opened the door.

Then there he was, Patrick Zweig, in all his glory posed in a mid-pound gesture at your dorm room door, staring straight at you.

"Hi,"

"Hey..."

Patrick soon pushed his way past you, walking into your dorm unphased. "Okay, just come right in.." You muttered, shutting the door behind you before turning to him. He stood in the middle of your room, inspecting it like he's the fucking DA. Nevertheless, he looked quite pretty as he was dressed in a simple white t-shirt with some dorky slogan and jorts—fit for California weather.

The silence was palpable between you two, Patrick seemed unbothered, almost jovial, and the signature devilish glint in his eyes. You, in contrast, glared at him like he was the spawn of Satan.

"Don't you look joyful?" Patrick chuckled, a playful smile soon following. Your scowl didn't budge but despite that, he came toward you with arms open wide, and enclosed you in a hug, "I'm certainly happy to see you." His words were muffled in the tangled mess that was your hair at this early of an hour. You hugged back briefly, then pressed him off.

"Pounding at my door at..." You glanced at the digital clock, "Jesus Christ, 7:15 in the morning?!" A small chuckle left Patrick again at his ability to get a rise out of you. You crossed your arms angrily and pinched the bridge of your nose with a sigh.

"Well, I'm eager to see one of my two special girls," He quipped, leaning back on your window sill with a surprising suaveness. That had become his nickname for you and Tashi over the past months. His 'special' girls were his way of flirting with you and getting on your nerves all at the same time. Both he and your best friend found it hilarious.

"Zweig, you have a pretty fucking odd way of showing 'enthusiasm'," A scoff left your lips just as you sauntered to the bathroom that was tangent to your room. The brunette soon followed and leaned on the doorway as you started your routine.

"I adore you, pookie!" A shutter audibly left you when he drawled out the terribly cheesy nickname. That one was the worst.

"Bleugh," You gagged, "Jesus Christ, Patrick why can't you be normal?" Somehow you frowned even deeper if that was even possible.

The boy laughed in reply, "Because who would be around to force you to have some fun?" Patrick looked at you with those eyes, his pretty forestry eyes that have broken hearts all across the country, they were meant for you. It made you want to stare back with your own, basking in it like a summer's day. And that smile, god— his smile was the sun itself. If Art was the ice, Patrick was the fire, the sun. The sun's light could always melt the winter's snow, you assumed he was with Tash for that similar reason. Opposites attract.

You started to feel yourself blush, your mind overthinking and repeating thoughts that all were about him, Patrick.

Patrick, Patrick, Patrick.

Hastily, you rushed to turn on the faucet and started to forcefully wash your face. Hopefully, it would wash away the shame that overtook the sudden rush of emotions for your best friend's boyfriend. Damnit, this is what happens when you don't get laid for a week... Scolding yourself internally, you washed your face and sighed to look back at him. As you expected, his eyes were still on you. But something had changed, the playfulness just wasn't there. It was something else, but you didn't have the time to place it before he looked away.

"So," Patrick spoke your name, "I haven't seen you for my entire time here, and..." He paused for effect, "I missed you."

You gasped dramatically and put a hand to your chest, "Me? Patrick Zweig misses me?" Teasing him with a smile, "What an honor! What's next, I get taken to the Dollar Tree?"

Laughter bounced off the small walls as the two of you were terribly unfunny and it was mutually known. It didn't stop you two from laughing at the stupidity of it. The laughter endured for a moment or two before it died down.

"But really," Patrick started to pull himself together, "I did miss you. Y'know how Art is these days, and Tashi only wants to talk about fucking tennis..." He stepped closer to you, close enough for his hand to slightly caress your free arm. "You're honestly my only friend right now..."

You laugh awkwardly, eyes darting everywhere from his own. Patrick was looking at you, you knew it, but if you looked now you wouldn't be responsible for what you would do after. Self-control was one of the better traits you'd taken from Tashi—you stepped away from his touch and smiled thinly.

"Oh come on Patrick," The shitty tile of your bathroom floor seemed more and more interesting as the seconds passed, "Tashi's just trying to help you." You knew what he was referring to as Tashi complained of Patrick's inability to listen to criticism.

Patrick scoffed at this and rolled his eyes, regardless didn't reply. He dropped the subject, realizing ages ago you'd always choose to defend Tashi over anyone else. He shifted back to his original plan.

"Okay, that's whatever, would you like to go out tonight then?" He asked, his original jovial tone returning, and suddenly like that, everything was okay. The bizarre tension was gone and you could meet his gaze with a knowing face.

"I'll think about it." That answer seemed good enough for Patrick, you witnessed a cheesy exclamation and a terrible fist pump to follow. You sighed at his absurdity but it finally got him out of your doorway as he sauntered back out to your room.

"Great! I'll see you at 8 tonight," He announced, walking toward the door and out the door before he could hear your faint, "Patrick I don't-"

It was suddenly silent in your dorm again. Which, you were grateful for as it meant now you had time to concentrate; you could possibly continue your new 15-step life plan of isolation and become the second-best tennis-female player of all time, Tashi would be the first. Or get black-out drunk tonight and forget all about everything. Each option was very crucial.

A few hours of homework later, you had determined two things like you had done a week ago. One, yes you did need to get black-out drunk, Two, you had to make more male friends that weren't your best friend's boyfriend or said boyfriend's best friend.

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The club was hot and sweaty, it felt as if it'd swallow you whole with the number of people who crowded around you. Dancing, grinding, touching. You hadn't drunk enough alcohol for you to start to enjoy this feeling so off to the bar you went. Patrick followed in tandem, keeping a good trail on you as he was the "designated driver", though you were sure that both of you were going home in a taxi that night.

Patrick ordered a round of 10 shots of assorted types of strong-smelling alcohol and smiled at you, though the smile made you queasy. It exactly mirrored Tashi's smile when she forced you to do shit.

"My favorite girl, pick your poison," The brunette snickered, taking in the blank features that had taken over. "Unless you're a pussy."

"Oh, I'm a pussy?" You raised your eyebrow in defiance, "Please, Patrick, watch and learn." Mirroring his confident smirk, you picked up one random shot and took it back. Then another, and another, and another... Soon there were only 3 shots left for your friend and your tongue started to go numb. The boy laughed at your efforts and followed your lead by taking the rest of the shots.

Shortly, you were on the dance floor, the colored lights seemed so much more welcoming and the touch of strangers felt like a blaze. You drunkenly danced with Patrick, spinning and moving against each other, hands above the waist for both of you as it felt anything but personal. Occasionally you two would make eye contact for too long and would just erupt in giggles and he'd take you for another spin. Patrick knew how to have fun and pulled you along for the ride.

During some Nelly Furtado song, you'd finally gotten fatigued of the club after who knows how long of dancing, drinking, and other illicit activities that involved a certain plant. You tugged at Patrick's collar of his shirt and he stopped his movement.

"Patrick," You slurred, "I wanna go home.." He looked down at your figure and nodded his head. Patrick led you off of the dance floor and finally outside of the club. You clutched onto his shirt on the walk to the car, which honestly felt like miles. Patrick filled the air with little comments about the people who had filled the club and it made you giggle. Though, as drunk as you were anything could've made you laugh.

"Yes! The car!" The grip on his shirt tightened as you through one of your hands in the air in celebration, "I'm so fuckinggg... tired.." You dragged out your constants as you both made your way to the car. Ultimately, it was more like Patrick was walking and you slanted onto him, trotting along.

"Mhm," Patrick hummed, he'd kept one hand on your waist but you hadn't really noticed it. There were many things you didn't notice in your inebriated state.

Patrick, luckily, hadn't drunk as much as you and was sober enough to drive you home. You laid your head comfortably on the window as you observed the blackened city and yellowed road soar past you. It was serene, you and Patrick. It was the first time in the past week you felt a smidge above the bare minimum. Your head was hazy and everything felt so miniature; boxed in.

The ride home was rather reserved, with no one speaking other than you drunkenly giving him directions to your dorm. Eventually, after he had to call Tashi, he stopped in front of the building.

"We're here, Sleeping Beauty," Patrick murmured quietly, slightly nudging you with his hand. When you responded with a groan, he sighed and got out of the car. You perked up a bit and lazily followed his figure until he opened the door. The lack of movement signaled to Patrick that he would be the one to get you out of this car.

Patrick heaved you out of your seat, to your disdain, and he held you close as he closed the passenger door behind you. Your face was squashed in the curve of his neck. He smelt like really lovely cologne and sweat.

Looking up at him, Patrick met your gaze with his own and smiled, "Hi." You smiled back, "Hey.." His hand stayed trained on your waist and you felt that warmth. The fervor you felt that night in the hotel room. It pooled deep inside of you, and it made the stupid smile on your face grow even wider.

"What are you smiling at?" Patrick grinned at your behavior and his hand that had been unlocking the door moved up to cup your cheek. Both of you stood there under the cloak of the night sky, staring foolishly at one another. He softly said your name, "What are you smiling at, pretty girl?"

The tone of his voice was something you'd never be able to interpret in your lifetime. Forgotten among memories and the intoxication, you thought about what led to the position you were in years later, and next to that night in the hotel room, this seemed to be another flick to the dominos collapsing.

Patrick didn't wait for your response, his lips were already on yours. He felt needy in this kiss, it was long and passionate. Your eyes were clenched shut, the euphoria you felt from being so out of it momentarily leaving your body to replace it with stone-cold regret. The kiss was split when you finally pushed one hand to his chest.

"Patrick?" You muttered, "What the fuck?" Patrick's air sobered at your words. He looked at you, the mere panic very visible on his face. Had he fucked up?

"What?" The brunette laughed humorously, "Did I, erm..." He was searching through his lexicon to say anything that could save whatever the hell just happened.

The shame began to quickly devour you, a sickish feeling overtaking your senses. Whatever just happened mortified you to no extent. You staggered back from Patrick, finally meeting his frenzied eyes.

Your eyes started to gloss over and you cried. Tears fell freely down your face as you felt the humiliation slap you in the face. All of it. The humiliation of Art not even liking you, Tashi's carelessness this week, and then this. The culmination of the efforts from the four of you, kissing your best friend's boyfriend. Or rather he kissed you, but what was the true distinction?

"What the fuck Patrick!?" You roughly wiped the tears that continued to fall, "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Patrick said nothing, only stared, so similar to his best friend.

"Jesus... The both of you!" You barked, "The both of you two fucking astound me." Your words were sharp and cutting bore into Patrick, apparently, that's what got him.

"What," His voice trailed off as his demeanor only heightened in puzzlement, "What do you mean both?"

"You and your fuck-face friend, that's who!" Your words blended together, as unfortunately, you were still pretty shit-faced. "You and Art fucking around with my head..."

Patrick tensed, "Art's fucking with your head?"

"Yes!" You replied, throwing your hands out in anger, "He's still in love with your girlfriend, and decided to fuck me on the side!"

Patrick's eyebrows raised, he knew Art was trying to manipulate the situation by trying to break him and Tashi apart but he didn't know that you were weaved in here too.

"That's... fucked up." He attempted to comfort you, very awkwardly.

"Yes, it is fucked up Patrick, almost as fucked up as you kissing me." You shot back venomously, narrowing your eyes at him. Patrick went quiet for a beat. He looked at you, looked away, and back at you. He seemed to be deliberating something.

"There's nothing fucked up about it," He finally answered, "I wanted to."

An involuntary gasp slipped from your lips. Your face contorted. "What?"

"I want you."

It felt like a gallon of cold water splashed on you. You stumbled back even further from the boy, your expression no longer confused but mortified.

Thundering down the sidewalk, you callously ran to where you didn't know. You heard Patirck's calls after you but they didn't matter. It wasn't as if he ran after you. The haze from everything that had happened still lingered as you ran. The thoughts bombarded your mind aimlessly, wondering what Patrick meant or what he might say to Tashi.

Tashi...

You'd raced so far that you were there at her dorm, which was seated right next to the tennis courts. Vision hazy, you tumbled into the building. It felt dingy and humid and walking through the corridors you tripped about six times and fully fallen over 3; that didn't stop you though from your destination.

By the grace of god, you handled yourself well enough to place three ordered knocks on Tashi's door, then slump to the floor with a deep sigh. Honestly, you didn't expect her to open the door. You didn't know what time it was but it was late enough into the night (or the early hours of the morning), that the rest of the world was silent.

Everything went silent for a moment as you stared at that wooden door. You focused on a dent in the door itself, right near the handle. You were so immersed in the indentation that you didn't notice the door hinged open.

"Well, well, well... look who it is," Tashi stared down at you with a slight smile. There she was.

"Tashi!" Your mood was instantly lifted at her company and smiled right back. The nastiness, the dread, and the remorse were lifted instantly once you saw her. She let out a sigh once she saw your state— your outfit was skimpy, mascara and eyeliner were smeared all over your face, and you looked like you'd cried a river.

"Christ," She sighed out your name, "Can't you have a good night?"

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You and Tashi lay on her bed peacefully, and you exchanged no sentiments in those moments. She'd washed you up from your sordid state and now she was tracing designs in the curve of your hip. Tashi laid her chin on your head and you nestled on her collarbone. This was a frequent situation for either of you, as, during tournaments during your adolescent year, nights were spent braiding each other's hair, swapping secrets with smiles, and just being girls.

"So, are we going to talk about it?" Tashi hummed, staring out into her own cluttered room. Smiling like a fool you replied, "Talk about what?"

"Art, he told me about what happened." She continued, her hand moved from your hip to your hair. Tashi threaded her fingers through it gently and you let out a giggle.

"Pfft, Art.. that stupid, dumb blonde," Laughter filled the room, and you drew your head away from Tashi to meet her. "He's just stupid, that's all."

Tashi held back her own laughter at your intoxicated words, "I see.." You nodded in confirmation and laid back down cuddled back in. "Well, I just wanted you to know that this week I wasn't trying to avoid you," She resumed, "Art just told me about your emotional state, and knowing you, I know you like space."

You hoisted your head again and sneered, "You'd believe that twink?" Tashi giggled and rolled her eyes, "I don't think you can say that anymore," She spoke your name in a scold, "But, yes I did, he's pretty fucking convincing you know."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... Convincing my ASS," Your eyebrows drew together in irritation at the mention of the boy, "He's stupid, just like the other one.."

Dead air obscured the room again, the only sound being you and Tashi's breathing. The warmth you'd felt from the alcohol returned again, but it felt different. It didn't feel as murky or slowing, it felt good. Yet, the disgrace from earlier was still in the back of your mind. You knew the next day would hold so much bullshit for you and your friend depending on Patrick's efforts or if Art decided to tell Tashi whatever Patrick would recount to him. The involvement of the two boys had made everything so muddled.

"Tashi,"

"Hm?"

"Promise me you'll love me forever?" You asked quietly, finally breaking the tranquility. The voice you had dawned felt foreign to you, it was desperate, vulnerable. Tashi pulled herself away from you to meet your eyes. Her deep sharp eyes scrutinized you with an unreadable gaze.

"What do you mean?" She asked, trying to laugh it off with a dry chuckle.

"I said what I meant," You slurred in reply, a pout, "Will you love me forever?"

Tashi scoffed, "I'm not fucking Mother Theresa," She said your name with a mocking edge. "You're my best friend, I..." Tashi stopped to carefully phrase her words so you could understand in your blitzed condition. "I like you more than any other person on planet Earth."

Your pout formed into a frown, and you stayed silent. Tashi then exhaled wearily, knowing she'd hurt your feelings but didn't say anything. It was a staring contest that you wouldn't win. Tashi did like you a lot, more than she liked her family, friends, and her boyfriend. But she wasn't good at pretending—she couldn't pretend she loved more than one thing. She loved one thing, and one thing only; Tennis.

"Then I'll love you enough for the both of us." That response caught Tashi off guard and she blanked. "I'll love you seeds and all, Tashi Duncan." The announcement of your love for her wasn't on the list of things Tashi thought she would've heard tonight. A nervousness overtook her but you didn't notice, you just stared in determination.

"Seeds and all?" Tashi questioned, her demeanor shifted to something a bit fainter, similar to yours.

"Yes, Tashi, seeds and all," You said it as if it was the most common thing in the world and laid back down. A sudden wave of exhaustion had washed over you, it was so easy to fall asleep. Despite this, Tashi stayed awake and watched you. It wasn't uncommon for you to say sappy shit and for Tashi to combat it with banter, but this felt more amorous; for the first time in the girl's life, she felt confused.

Tashi glanced back down at your sleeping figure. You looked so peaceful and pretty. An involuntary grin graced her features as she lay next to you. Her face was inches away from your own, bringing her hand to brush away some stray pieces of your hair to simply stare at you.

"I love you too," The girl muttered your name, kissing the apple of your cheek, turning around to her side of the bed, and falling into a slumber soon after. Tashi had assumed you were sleeping and wouldn't remember it even if you weren't. But, unfortunately for her, you had heard.

Tashi Duncan loved you.

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𝘾𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙄𝙉𝙉𝘼𝙏𝙄, 𝙊𝙃𝙄𝙊, 2011

𝘊𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪 𝘖𝘱𝘦𝘯

The hotel bar's music softly played through the speakers, setting a particular homely affection amid the room. A few people were there, tennis players and normal patrons alike, drinking or crying over their loss today. Cincinnati, Ohio was one of the last stops any of these players had of making it to the US Open but unfortunately, they didn't make the cut.

You on the other hand? The 15-step plan was in motion but this time you'd be first. Going pro three years ago was one of the best decisions you'd made, in your life. The dream was cradled in the palm of your hand. Young, beautiful, determined, the brands just ate you up.

Being sponsored by Nike, doing commercials for popular products, and selling out was pretty amicable. The celebrity that came with it was a sweet taste that you sunk your teeth in. People shouted your name on the street and begged for your signature, they wanted you. The only downside was that now and again you'd have to see him.

God, You thought, when was the last time I heard this song... Instead of nursing your drink, you glanced around the room, observing the players. You recognized some from previous competitions and some you'd played today. Suddenly, noticing how everyone had someone to talk to, it was exposing to be the lone person at the bar. At 23 and no man, for now, was a smidge uncomfortable.

So why were you holding her hand?

Is that the way we stand?

Were you lying all the time?

Was it just a game to you...

While scanning the room, you saw her, sitting there with her computer propped up and sporting a shorter hairstyle. A jolt surged through you, you'd seen enough of her today, and you swiveled your head back forward. Another bad move, there he was. The blonde shaggy curls bedazzled you when he strolled in. Art Donaldson walked through the room and the world stopped turning.

Art walked into the bar in search of something. He just didn't know what. For the past few weeks since the Atlanta Open, he'd been on edge; for what he didn't really know. The looming task of the US Open had been teasing him for years, but he was young. He had time to play and win it, this year might just be his year. Though that's what he told himself. The US Open was what he was worried about. Yes, nothing more, nothing less, and absolutely not about certain brunettes.

Art made eye contact with you for a split second. A look flashed across both of your faces, both with varying feelings. Art's face showed an emotion of enchantment, like seeing a rare jewel. You looked like you swallowed sour milk. You shifted your gaze away from him and back to your drink. The alcohol stung your nose.

But I'm in so deep

You know I'm such a fool for you

You got me wrapped around your finger...

Do you have to let it linger?

A shiver strained through you, wondering if the universe was truly trying to get you to buy 30 mg of fentanyl and a bottle of vodka. Art you were used to, both of you were established and young tennis players, it was foretold the two of you would cross paths after that day. Every time it did happen there were formalities exchanged between you two, and then you'd take 4 shots of the choice of alcohol that night and cry.

Art peeked back at you once more before back on his path to Tashi. She was perfect, he had known that fact since the day he met her. Shoved on the pedestal, his fiance typed stormily at her computer, eyebrows drawn together in a scowl.

A smile grazed his face, "Hey," He sat down across from her. Tashi barely acknowledged him with a nod. Art sighed and tapped on the rim of her computer, "Hey Tashi..."

Tashi exhaled and lips thinned, "Hi, what's up?" She curtly replied, "I'm working right now on our deal with Nike," Art's confidence slightly buckled under her glare and apparent annoyance with him.

"Oh, well, nothing..." He trailed off with his smile being replaced with a slight pout, unfortunately for Art, this irritated the coach more. "Well, then get out of my face. You have a game tomorrow," She articulated concisely instructed him with a tone a mother would use, "A game you need to win."

Art straightened up a bit, winning was important, he knew that but he missed Tashi. His paranoia surely wasn't helping her curtness as of recently, but he was still relegating it to US Open nerves. He just needed to win and it'd be fine. "Okay," He agreed, "I'll see you upstairs?" The blonde was met with a quick nod, the sound of typing only emitted.

"I love you."

"I know."

Art left the table with a sullen expression on his features, but you didn't know that. Now you were focused on what type of wood the table was, to avoid thinking about when was the last time the three of you were in the same room. Maybe it's maple.... Your thoughts were soon cut off by a buzz from your phone. The iPhone 4 buzzed madly in your pocket and you pulled it out.

It was some random number you didn't have on your phone.

415-xxx-xxxx

𝘏𝘪, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘵, 𝘸𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬.

𝘔𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 3𝘳𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦.

𝘖𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺.

A miniature smile begged to come onto your features, even texting you could hear the way he'd talk with his comforting, careful diction. But then the meaning of the message settled deep inside you. He wanted to meet you up? Why? Confusion replaced the thick nostalgia as the cogs in your head started to work. It confused you, but you were intrigued. Plus, what was the worst that could happen?

212-xxx-xxxx

𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺, 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯

¸¸♫·¯·♪¸♩·¯·♬¸¸¸¸♬·

Idily standing in the dingy ice room, you'd start contemplating your life choices. Specifically, the ones that led you to this moment. Why did you approve of this? Why did you go to that fucking bar? You're not even supposed to drink the day before a game. Oh, that's right, you remembered, Patrick Zweig.

♬☆♬☆♬☆

Earlier that day...

The cooling feeling of the concrete against your back felt like pertinent compensation after a day of sprinting around in the sun. You'd finally made it to the semi-finals after dominating through the bracket, some you'd played against during earlier tournaments, others were just painless to beat and move on to the following one. Nonetheless, the girl you'd just played had given you a run for your money. Not because she was good, but because you were distracted.

Tashi Duncan, coach of the FAMOUS Art Donaldson, observed your match. You'd noticed her when perusing the stands after the first game when you were looking for your friend who had come to cheer you on. Seeing her was the biggest mistake of your game, serve after serve it'd either be out or barely touched the net. It was utterly embarrassing and you'd lost the second game by 15 love. When it was the break you'd skimmed only to find her gone.

It pissed you off. Who the fuck does she think she is? You clenched your water bottle angrily, your knuckles shy of a shade lighter than normal skin tone. The spite of Tashi leaving your game (or so you thought) had lit that flame that you doused years ago. The flame of insecurity produced by Tashi Duncan.

You were relentless against the girl, hitting the ball with your full strength each and every time. An intense volley had occurred in the middle of the game, so intense that your opponent fell face forward in an attempt to catch the shot (she did not). The stadium was silent other than the loud sounds of your grunts and anger. It was hotter than the concrete you played on but just as hard. It pissed you off so much that when you won, instead of your normal self-indulgent bow, you smashed your racquet to the floor and a roar. The crowd scarfed it down, hailing you as a passionate and beautiful player, tenacious against competition.

In all honesty, you just wanted to go home and cry, but you were hustled off the court to where you are now. Stranded in the hallway and lying in your muddled emotions. It was now the men's bracket, but you didn't plan on watching anyone. Particularly Donaldson. Yet, trying to make it out of the vacant hallway, a familiar face entered your vision.

"There's the golden girl!" No words in a dictionary could express the face you made at that moment.

"Oh my..." You muttered under your breath, turning around to see Patrick Zwieg, in all of his sleazy glory. "What in the ever-loving fuck are you doing here Patrick?"

Patrick laughed with faux hurt, "Aw, aren't you just a ball of sunshine!" He tried to get closer to you but you edged back. He gauged your expression and sighed, "And here I thought you'd be happy to see me..."

You scoffed in disgust, "Christ Patrick, seeing you is like seeing a dog with cancer, it should be put down already." The brunette's lips pulled into a smirk, he crossed his arms and gave an irksome look.

"Well, I'm not a dog," He corrected, "I'm a cat and we got 9 lives." An exasperated sigh left your lips, your eyes meeting his with a tiredness. After the mind-fuck of seeing Tashi, you had no bandwidth for Patrick's bitchiness.

"I don't fucking care, Patrick," You hissed, finally starting back on your walk. Patrick started to slightly slip from his confidence, he hadn't expected this. He usually was able to keep you around for a good banter but you'd genuinely just stopped it this time. To keep you from going he snatched your forearm, keeping you from going any further.

Your glare deepened, "Let me go!" He didn't budge and kept you in place, although you started struggling to try and escape his strong grasp.

Patrick spoke your name calmly, "I just want to talk..." He sounded like he was talking to a feral cat. Grunting and now starting to whine, you struggled in an attempt to get away from him and this conversation. "About what? How you fucked over my best-" You stopped yourself, the word 'friend' died on the tip of your tongue. You two weren't friends, you hadn't been for years. Patrick caught this moment of vulnerability and used this.

"Friend? Please, she left you once you got better," He goaded with a sinister grin, "She couldn't stand that you could play and she couldn't."

The struggle became relentless as you started to shout for 'help' but it was useless. You were isolated. The best you'd gotten was dragging Patrick an inch or two across the floor, no escape was foreseen. A thin line formed on your lips as you glared.

"Shut up Patrick, don't fucking project your bullshit with Art on me,' You spat venomously, "He won, you're fucking losing, so what?"

Patrick chuckled drily, "Won what? The match? In case you forgot I won that-"

"NO!" You cut him off with a shout, "God no Patrick, he won at life. He's getting married to the girl you, and only you Patrick, lost because you're a dipshit." Face contorted into one of pure hatred for the man in front of you, and his hold finally slackened for you to draw your arm back.

Patrick rolled his eyes, "Newsflash, I slept with the girl I lost like.." He stopped speaking to count on his fingers, "Three weeks ago!" A triumphant and smug smirk graced his features.

"Great, so you can add home-wrecker to your tennis accolades?" You raised a brow and scoffed again, "You astonish me Zweig, you really do."

Patrick's grin didn't budge, "I aim to please," He did feel quite pleased with himself, and was even more pleased because he confidently believed you were jealous. Jealous that Tashi Duncan slept with him again and you didn't. He was sorely mistaken.

A heavy breath was taken in and you became focused. You knew exactly what you wanted to say to him, "Patrick, you may've fucking one that on match, let's say a battle." You began harshly, "But you didn't win the war, Art did."

Coming closer to Patrick to look him square in the eye, "Art is going to marry Tashi, he won. He will continue to win and be remembered." Patrick clenched his fists to try and calm himself, your words cutting in like serrated blades, "Who will you be Patrick?"

The question echoed throughout Patrick's mind, but you didn't waste time on his reply. Quickly, you stormed away after and resolved that the finest thing to do was to drink this moment away.

♬☆♬☆

A disgusted exclamation softly left your lips as you remembered that instant from today. Patrick always knew how to rile you up, to push your buttons until they'd break. At this point, you thought he enjoyed pissing you off. However, your internal monologuing was cut off by approaching footsteps. Darting up from the checkered carpeted floor, the blonde approached.

Art felt his palms begin to sweat when he saw your languid figure up against the vending machine. You looked so effortlessly beautiful to him, even when looking like you wanted to kill him. He sauntered into the small corridor and shut the door behind him.

Then, he pivoted around to face you. A hush swallowed both of you. It had been the first time you two were alone in around 3 years, at least. Art looked nervous meanwhile you looked disinterested.

"So?" You asked expectantly, "What did you need to talk about?" Art uncoiled and bit his lip. What did he want to talk about again..?

"Oh uhm.." He stuttered, "Hi, so..." Art desperately combed his mind for an answer, "I just saw you and I..." He coughed awkwardly and shifted his weight, "I just wanted to know how you were."

You took a deep breath and then let out a sigh, "Great, so you wanted to waste my time?" Art visibly flinched at your response and his lips twitched in apprehension.

"No, I just missed you," He asserted quickly, trying to meet your tone. Art's deep blue eyes met your own and something tugged at your heartstrings. "We both missed you."

"We?" A wiry laugh echoed in the room, "I don't think Tashi misses me, Arthur, but a cute way of guilt-tripping me." You cooed mockingly with a smirk. A sour expression fell across Art's countenance at the use of his full government name.

Sighing, he leaned against the wall and; after a beat spoke, "We watched your name today," Art stared at you intensely, "You were good, but what fucked you up during the second game?"

You clenched your fists, annoyed that he had been there too. "I don't know, it's called none-ya."

"What's none-ya?" He asked, confused by your retort.

"None of ya fucking business, Donaldson," You shot, "We aren't friends, we don't have tea parties and talk about fucking tennis."

"Well," Art started calmly, holding himself together, "Why don't we talk about anything but tennis?" You smiled fakly at his offer and stepped toward him, the height difference not really being too big, close enough to meet eye to eye.

"Then why the hell are we talking, Art, if we're not talking tennis?"

Art was silenced by your reply and stared down at the floor. He understood why you were acting the way you were, you were hurt. Aching. He would be too if he were in your shoes. The boy knew it wasn't him that should be talking to you. If anything would be solved between you and him, it'd first have to be solved between you and his fiance.

So, he looked back up at you, "I don't know why are we still talking?" The way Art said your name triggered some deep-buried emotions you had killed many years ago along with your insecurities. It was the seductive, whiny nature of Art Donaldson that kept you awake during the hard, lonely nights and right now it was your reality.

The space between you two was barely existent, lips almost touching... Your phone buzzed. The moment was ruined instantly and you quickly plucked out your phone. It was your coach, texting you verbatim to 'GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP, NOW!' with five angry emojis.

Art's eyes searched your movements as you read the message. He was so intent on solving or fixing things with you tonight that he hadn't acknowledged that other outside forces could interfere. When he saw you play today and then back at the bar? It fell into place for him, he just had to have you again. He had to. He deserved it right?

You shoved Art aside and opened the door, focused on now going to sleep and preparing for your game tomorrow. Simply put, you didn't have time for stupid boys like Art Donaldson who wanted to play tennis with two balls. It was ineffective.

But, just as you were down the hallway he shouted, "Tashi misses you!" You ignored him, "She told me to tell you."

"Tell her," Turning around so he could directly hear you, "Tell her that she can go fuck herself, and," You had stopped speaking, storming off to right in front of the man, "Go fuck yourself too." It was easy to snatch the collar of his old grey hoodie and capture him in a kiss.

The clash of lips was a brutish one, Art being caught off guard and you kissing forcefully as if he was the last thing on earth. His hands traveled to your jaw and let you take control of the kiss.

It was a longer one, almost juvenile, letting yourself clash teeth or slightly push up against him. You finally pulled away, his bottom lip sliding through your teeth slowly, keeping eye contact while it bounced back in place.

The both of you were flushed a deep crimson, now both frustrated and sexually frustrated you let out an exclamation of anger and strode furiously down the hall, into the stairway.

There left was Art, his attempts hopeless and now he was alone. His hand shakily rose to his lips where you had just been. Fingers gently grazing his lip before letting out a shaky sigh. It'd been forever since he'd been caught so off-guard, it shook him inside. You always did, pushing his own buttons instead of yours. Art was always susceptible to your touch and words.

Yet, frowned when he thought of the way you had spoken to him tonight. You had become so jaded, so much more.. mean. It reminded him of how Tashi used to talk back at Stanford. Before the injury. How confident she was, somehow more than now, and how she had the world at the tips of her fingers. Art silently wished he'd handled that day differently than he did. But, deep down, he knew he didn't. Art got what he wanted at the end of the day, wasn't that beautiful?

ᴇɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2

Hi! I really hope you guys liked this chapter, I really wanted to explore the character dynamics more and just flesh out the relationships. It'll get spicy, trusttt!

Please like or comment!! I would love to hear what y'all think or want for the plot, you guys were literally so, so nice in the last part!

Thank you for reading <3

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