#i read about history so much during the day

[grison-in-space]

You know, I want to reblog this today because one of my reading snippets has been making the rounds through radfem spaces, and I keep getting served the most atrociously bad takes. Here's the quote that kicked it off, from feminist historian of the family Stephanie Coontz in The Way We Never Were:

For every nineteenth-century middle-class family that protected its wife and child within the family circle, then, there was an Irish or a German girl scrubbing floors in that middle-class home, a Welsh boy mining coal to keep the home-baked goodies warm, a black girl doing the family laundry, a black mother and child picking cotton to be made into clothes for the family, and a Jewish or an Italian daughter in a sweatshop making “ladies”’ dresses or artificial flowers for the family to purchase.

That's the sum total of the post I released: that quote, Coontz's name and the date her book was last revised (2016).

The thing I find really illustrative about those responses is the sheer level of defensiveness radfems levy at that quote.

See, when I read that sentence, I think about the structure of the economy and of the impossible demands of it imagined by people who fantasize about the cloistered "protection" that women and girls "should" receive within the bosom of the family. I think, since this book is about the way that "traditional family" is constructed in the minds of conservatives, of how my family—I am the daughter of at least three of those groups of people, and none of them the middle class daughter who could be hidden from the world—of how my ancestors survived in that time, of the lives that they would have lived. I think of how unjust that period of time was, and frankly I also think of how much of the fight for American women's suffrage was fueled by fury and horror over the exploitation of poor children, and the argument that women would never allow these things to come to pass if only they had the vote.

(I almost wrote "the daughter of at least three of those groups of women," and then I thought better of it. Coontz included that Welsh boy and the ungendered black child in the sentence for an extremely deliberate reason: suffering is not the exclusive provenance of women. If you are not familiar with the conditions of child coal miners during the late nineteenth century, you should know that we are talking about boys as young as eight doing backbreaking ten-hour days of work that often left them maimed or dead, and conditions were no better in the coal mines of Wales overseas. If that black child happened to be a boy, that did not stop him from being expected to work equally hard. Even after slavery ended in theory, sharecropping cotton farmers often employed children as young as five or six to do hard labor in the fields in order to support their families under the exploitation of white landowners.)

In short, I think about the suffering that is needed in order to power the doctrine of separate spheres that so many of these chucklefucks fantasize about following. I think about labor history and the occupational safeties we fought so hard to build, including cases like the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire that disproportionately affected women working in those other corners of labor mentioned. And I reflect on the unattainability of that ideal, even ignoring the reality that cloisters are at least as much a trap as a sanctuary. I've knocked around enough to know what benevolent sexism is.

That isn't how radfems read it. Instantly they get defensive. How dare I, they hiss, imply that this middle class woman had it great when they were being controlled and curtailed by their patriarchs? As if there was no better reason to critique the fucking doctrine of separate spheres from a feminist perspective than to, what, to shame wealthier women? The lack of self awareness is just astonishing.

My dear sweet summer children, no one in that sentence is accusing those middle class women of a goddamn thing. They aren't, mostly, the architects of the system of family in which they lived. The book is an examination of what family actually meant to Americans writ large across history and a critique of reactionary conservative nostalgia for a way of living that, bluntly, sucked for almost everyone.

But the reflexive defensiveness from these radfems is the piece I wanted to draw attention to. These folks see "This fantasized separation of women's and men's public spheres could not be executed without the labor of many thousandfold women and their children who did not have the option of withdrawing from public work. And after all, with apologies to Sojourner Truth, aren't they also women? Does your feminism then have no space for advocating for little children? Because the fucking first waves had that much figured out for themselves!

For radfems as a school, then, online feminism has become not a lens with which to strive for gender justice but a shield with which to stifle any implication that any individual woman might so much as participate in an unjust world, let alone the notion that there might be intersectional conflicts (within womanhood and otherwise) from which some women benefit. Oh, they'll generously allow that intersectional oppressions exist, and they usually squawk with outrage if you imply that they don't believe in them.

But if you simply don't take the time to flatter the notion that not all suffering can be boiled down to misogyny, or that other forms of suffering might trump misogyny—that other misogynies might inflict greater literal wounds than middle class fantasies about protecting women and children from the greater world, even as other women and children are being constantly thrown into the grist mill so that the same middle class could benefit!

If you don't stop to pay appeasement to that concept, radfems moan and cry and sob and invent strawmen arguments. In so doing, they show us what their priorities really are.

In general, understanding radical feminism for what it is and why it appeals to many people requires an understanding that the greatest strength of radical feminism as a tool for understanding misogyny and sexism is also its greatest faultline.

See, radical feminism is a second wave position in feminist thought and development. It is a reaction to what we sometimes call first wave feminism, which was so focused on specific legal freedoms that we usually refer to the activists who focused on it as suffragists or suffragettes: that is, first wave feminists were thinking about explicit laws that said "women cannot do this thing, and if they try, the law of the state and of other powerful institutions will forcibly evict them." Women of that era were very focused on explicit and obvious barriers to full participation in public and civil life, because there were a lot of them: you could not vote, you could not access education, you could not be trained in certain crucial professions, you could not earn your own pay even if you decided you wanted to.

And so these activists began to try to dig into the implicit beliefs and cultural structures that served to trap women asking designated paths, even if they did wish to do other things. Why is it that woman are pressured not to go into certain high prestige fields, even if in theory no one is stopping them? How do our ideas and attitudes about sex and gender create assumptions and patterns and constrictions that leave us trapped even when the explicit chains have been removed?

The second wave of feminism, then, is what happened when the daughters of this first wave--and their opponents--looked around and said to themselves: hold on, the explicit barriers are gone. The laws that treat us as a different and lesser class of people are gone. Why doesn't it feel like I have full access to freedoms that I see the men around me enjoying? What are the unspoken laws that keep us here?

And so these activists focused on the implicit ideas that create behavioral outcomes. They looked inward to interrogate both their own beliefs and the beliefs of other people around them. They discovered many things that were real and illuminated barriers that people hadn't thought of, especially around sexual violence and rape and trauma and harassment. In particular, these activists became known for exercises like consciousness-raising, in which everyday people were encouraged to sit down and consider the ways in which their own unspoken, implicit beliefs contributed to general societal problems of sexism and misogyny.

Introspection can be so intoxicating, though, because it allows us to place ourselves at the center of the social problems that we see around us. We are all naturally a little self centered, after all. When your work is so directly tied to digging up implications and resonances from unspoken beliefs, you start getting really into drawing lines of connection from your own point of interest to other related marginalizations--and for this generation of thinkers, often people who only experienced one major marginalization got the center of attention. Compounding this is the reality that it is easier to see the impacts of marginalization when they apply directly to you, and things that apply to you seem more important.

So some of this generation of thinkers thought to themselves, hang on. Hang on. Misogyny has its fingers in so many pies that we don't see, and I can see misogyny echoing through so many other marginalizations too--homophobia especially but also racism and ableism and classism. These echoes must be because there is one central oppression that underlies all the others, and while theoretically you could have a society with no class distinctions and no race distinctions, just biologically you always have sex and gender distinctions, right? So: perhaps misogyny is the original sin of culture, the well from which all the rest of it springs. Perhaps there's really no differences in gender, only in sex, and perhaps we can reach equality if only we can figure out how to eradicate gender entirely. Perhaps misogyny is the root from which all other oppressions stem: and this group of feminists called themselves radical feminists, after that root, because radix is the Latin word for root.

Very few of this generation of thinkers, you may be unsurprised to note, actually lived under a second marginalization that was not directly entangled with sexism and gender; queerness was pretty common, but queerness is also so very hard to distinguish from gender politics anyway. It's perhaps not surprising that at this time several Black women who were interested in gender oppression became openly annoyed and frustrated by the notion that if only we can fix gender oppression, we can fix everything: they understood racism much more clearly, they were used to considering and interrogating racism and thinking deeply about it, and they thought that collapsing racism into just a facet of misogyny cheapened both things and failed to let you understand either very well. These thinkers said: no, actually, there isn't one original sin that corrupted us all, there are a host of sins humans are prone to, and hey, isn't the concept of original sin just a little bit Christianocentric anyway?

And from these thinkers we see intersectional feminists appearing. These are the third wave, and from this point much mainstream feminist throughout moves to asking: okay, so how do the intersections of misogyny make it appear differently in all these different marginalized contexts? What does misogyny do in response to racial oppression? What does it look like against this background, or that one?

But the radical feminists remained, because seeing your own problems and your own thought processes as the center of the entire world and the answer to the entire problem of justice is very seductive indeed. And they felt left behind and got quite angry about this, and cast about for ways to feel relevant without having to decenter themselves. And, well, trans women were right there, and they made such a convenient target...

That's what a TERF is.

Now you know.

[bizarrelovetriangel]

the princess and her knight.

he devoted his life to you. he'll sacrifice his heart and soul for you, even if fate doesn't allow it. but maybe there's something stronger than fate that will grant your deepest desires.

princess!mc/reader x knight!caleb au. fluff with angst but mostly fluff. mutual pining. yearner and jealous caleb. briefly features other characters.

inspired by this lovely art by zvdohu

You glared at Caleb from across the room. How dare he laugh at you while you suffer?

Your grandmother, the current queen of the kingdom, is once again reminding you of Linkon's history by forcing you to read the thick, dusty books in the library.

In a week, you will be hosting a ball to celebrate the day Linkon was born, and as part of tradition, you are to give a speech to honor your ancestors.

Usually, the Queen is the one that does the special presentation in front of the guests; however, this year, your grandmother wants to draw more attention to you.

She's planning to step down as the Queen soon and passing the title to you. She wants people to recognize you as the kingdom's new authority figure. She wants to be certain that you won't make any foolish mistakes during your speech.

That's why Caleb is laughing at you right now.

He's leaning against the door that he's guarding, completely entertained by the faces you're making as you try not to fall asleep in the middle of Josephine's lecture.

Suddenly, the door was opened and Caleb was thrown off balance, causing him to wobble for a second.

"Queen Josephine, Princess," your grandmother's main guard, Jenna, greets you both. "It's time for dinner."

"Yes!"

You jumped from your chair and fled from the library before anyone could stop you. You grabbed Caleb's left arm and pulled him with you as you disappeared through the hallways of the castle.

"Come on, Caleb!"

"Whoa! Slow down, pip-squeak! Food's not going to run away. They were cooked very well, you know? That boar was fast, but I was faster."

You laughed at how proud he looks. "I'll join on the next hunt. I bet I'm even faster than you. I will catch bigger meals, too!"

"Oh? I'll take that as a challenge."

Your pace slows down as you reached the courtyard. As other knights and retainers crossed paths with you, they respectfully bowed at you and Caleb.

The Princess and the Knight Commander.

"If you catch a bigger prey than me, I'll do anything you want for a whole day - "

"Just one day? Also, you have to do whatever I want anyway. Because I'm the princess." you grinned. "But fine. I'll be sure to make it a long, memorable day for you, Sir Caleb."

"Hey now, don't get carried away, pip-squeak. I said, if you catch a bigger prey than me. But if I win, then you have to do something that I want."

"Sure, sure. whatever."

It didn't matter because you're going to win.

"Good evening, Princess, Sir Caleb." You two were greeted by a retainer as you entered the great hall, where you always eat.

"Good evening."

You sat down at your usual spot and Caleb, as always, took the seat across from you.

"Wait, this...." your knight sniffed one of the food in front of him and grimaced. "There's cilantro in this! Why - I told them not to put cilantro on my portions..." His eyes slowly met your judging gaze. "Pip-squeak, this must be yours - "

"No. Eat your vegetables."

///////////////

As much as you enjoyed your savory dinner, your stomach yearned for more food when midnight struck. You stayed up late memorizing your speech for the ball, and now, you're in desperate need of a snack.

You put on a cardigan over your nightgown, then you quietly left your room. Caleb should already be in his room around this time, so you didn't need to worry about slipping past him.

You made your way to the castle's big kitchen and cheered at its vacancy.

Now, what can you eat?

You can't go wrong with classic sandwhich.

A potato soup would suffice, too.

Dumplings would be amazing.

"How about an apple pie?"

You picked up the closest item to your hand, which happened to be a frying pan, and used it as a weapon to defend yourself from the person that sneaked up right behind you.

Caleb was unfazed as his prosthetic right arm clung against your weapon right when it was about to hit his face.

"What a funny looking sword you have here, princess." he smirked at you. "Did you lose the one I gave you for your birthday two years ago?"

You huffed, though you felt relieved that it's only Caleb and not your grandmother. He's not wearing his night attire yet nor is he in his all-black knight uniform. Instead, he's in his training gear.

It's not unusual for him to train late at night, though it is rare to see him in the kitchen at this time. Either someone snitched on you, or he caught you himself on his way back to his room.

"Impressive reaction time though. You remembered my lessons. Well done." He put the frying pan back to its initial place.

"I'm just hungry and want a snack." you sigh, rubbing your growling stomach.

Caleb shook his head. "Grandma will scold you if she finds out..." He then ruffled your hair. "Well, she won't hear it from me. What do you have in mind, pip-squeak?"

You beamed at him. "You'll make me food?!"

"Mhmm. And for myself, too, since I just finished training and am in need of protein."

"Yay! I want to help! Let's use the leftover shrimps and make spicy wontons!"

The Queen's loyal guard caught you two as you were chatting and laughing loudly in the kitchen, but she decided not to say anything.

Afer all, this is something that's been happening for as long as she started working for the royal family. Ever since you were little, you and Caleb would often sneak in the kitchen to make yourselves a late night snack.

Caleb is good at leaving no evidence of his crimes, and both of you look way too happy every time you're munching, so Jenna never wants to be the one to put an end on your fun.

///////////

You and Caleb separated from the other knights and hunters so you can start your competition: whoever catches the bigger prey wins.

Even though it's noon, all the trees in the forest provided plenty of shade to block a lot of sunlight, so most of your path is darkened.

"You have to be careful, pip-squeak. Gideon told me there's been more victims of that red dragon living at the edge of the kingdom."

"Nice try, but I'm not scared of dragons." You crossed your arms and walked ahead of Caleb, adjusting the gloves you wore on your hands.

You're wearing your hunting uniform and your sword is sheated by your hip, ready to be drawn at any sign of danger.

"Anyway, we should split up so we can look for our preys. I'll go this way."

Caleb hesitated but agreed. "If anything happens, just call for me. Be careful and pay attention to your surroundings."

"I know." You gave him a wave before walking farther into another direction.

Caleb kept his eyes on you for as long as you were visible to him.

He knows that you are capable of protecting yourself. Not only were you trained by himself, Jenna also made you one of her students. You absolutely have the skills to be a high-ranking knight, too.

It's just that he's so used to being your protector for pretty much your whole lives. Before you knew how to fend for yourself, it was his job to make sure nobody hurts you, ever again.

When you were children, before being adopted by Josephine, both of you were properties of the kingdom, used as lab rats for military and warzone weapons.

He knows you have no memory of it because that's one of the outcome of their cruel, inhumane experiments, but Caleb will never forget it. He always tried to protect you even when he couldn't, even when he knew they were going to punisn him twice as much.

Once Josephine reigned over the kingdom after its vile, previous ruler's death, the two of you were freed. Caleb promised to stay by your side to keep protecting you. He'll never let anything happen to you for as long as he lives.

That's why it's hard for him to let you out of his sight. He trusts you, but he holds no trust for the rest of the world.

"Hehe, you're not gonna believe what I got."

After an hour, you reunited at the same spot where you split up from. Caleb is already there, waiting for you while casually sitting against a thick tree trunk and eating an apple.

Caleb raised a brow at your dirty face and clothes. "What could've possibly given you such a trouble?"

"Ta-da!"

"...."

"...."

".....pfft!"

"Caleb!" Your right fist landed on his shoulder. "Don't laugh!"

"It's...." he took a few more seconds to let out all his giggles while your face heats up with embarrassment. "It's a hare! Truly a hard thing to catch. I'm so proud of you, princess~"

You playfully smacked his shoulder again. "Shut up! This was all I could find! What about you, then?! Where's your catch? I don't see anything!"

Caleb crossed his legs so he could sit even more comfortably. "I also had a little trouble finding anything. All I could get was that little thing that almost ran into me."

You faced the direction that he pointed to and your mouth drops at the sight of a dead stag.

"What?! How?!"

Caleb laughs at your reaction. "Unfortunately for you, pip-squeak, I just know this forest better than you do. I know where all the big guys like to hang out at this time of the day."

"Damn."

"Don't look so down." Caleb poked your nose. "You'll have another delicious meal tonight, thanks to me. And we can eat your catch for our midnight snack, too."

"Ugh, now I'm mad." Mad at yourself for bringing up such a silly challenge that you stood no chance of winning. "I didn't even get to use my sword that much after I spent a long time polishing it! Caleb, let's spar!"

He was quick to bring out his sword before giving you a dramatic bow. "As you wish, my princess."

////////////

Over the next few days, you spent most of your time and energy preparing for the upcoming ball.

You helped your grandmother decide what food will be made, you thought of the decorations and the set up of tables, and you also had to be the one that decided who will receive invitations for the event.

"Who's Rafayel again?" Caleb asks, looking over your shoulder to read the name on the envelope you're holding.

You pointed at a painting hanging on a wall of the study room.

"Another prince, but also an artist. He's the one who painted that, and several other paintings in the castle. Grandma's a big fan of him. And me, too."

"And you're inviting him?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because.... grandma wants to?"

"But do you want to?"

"I... guess so? It'd be nice to meet him and tell him that I'm a fan of his work."

"...you could just write him a letter." he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder as he continued to examine the envelope. "Lemuria? Isn't that the kingdom underwater?!"

"Yep."

"Are you sure you want him to come all the way here? Isn't it too far for him?

You grunted. "It's up to him if he wants to come or not. Anyway, that's the last invitation. Now, I need to go see Doctor Zayne."

As you were ascending from your chair, Caleb freezes. "You're going to see Zayne? What for?"

"For my regular check up."

"Oh, right...."

Caleb frowns for a moment, eyes darting to your chest, right where your heart is. It's a very special heart. He wants to protect it, too, but only a healer has the ability to do that.

"I'm coming with you! I haven't seen him in a while. I should get a check up, too, for my arm."

Now, it's your turn to falter, but Caleb took no notice as he's grabbing all the invitations you had in your hands.

Caleb lost his right arm just a couple of years ago. An unknown knight had attacked the two of you on your way back from visiting another princess.

Even today, you're unsure of their purpose. One thing that's certain is that you were not the only target: they clearly tried to capture you and Caleb.

Caleb sacrificed his right arm, but he managed to defeat the unknown knight. You don't know what happened to them afterwards, but you assumed they'd been executed for the attempted abduction.

Although Caleb was able to get a prosthetic arm, you're still saddened by the incident. He'd mentioned to you once that he can't feel anything in his right arm, unless it's extreme pain. You wish there was something you could do for him.

"I'll bring some left over cake." Caleb grins. "I hope Zayne likes carrot cake."

"Caleb, no!"

/////////////

This time, you didn't sneak in the kitchen. Instead, you sneaked out of the castle. And this time, you have a partner in crime.

"Sshhh, they're coming."

You and Caleb are squished together inside a small, but thankfully clean supplies closet on the hallway closest to the castle's backdoor exit.

You already feel hot from the brown cloak that you're wearing to hide your identity, but Caleb's body being pressed against yours made you feel as if you're inside a volcano.

One of his hand is on your waist, keeping you steady since the floor is littered with small random objects you can easily slip from. His left hand is covering your mouth so you don't make any noise.

Your heart is racing so fast, you worried for a moment that you might have to go back to see Zayne for another check up.

It's pitch black and you can't see anything, but you know Caleb's face is extremely close to yours because you can feel his breath grazing your lips.

You can hear the quiet clinking that his charm is making as it dangles on the clasp of his cloak.

The silver tag that says, 'When U come back', attached to an apple with a red jewel. You gave the charm to him when he had officially become a knight, and Caleb decided to put it on his cloak so that he's always wearing it.

When he's not wearing the cloak, he'll put it on a silver chain and turn it to a necklace. No matter where he goes, no matter the time of day, he's always wearing it.

And now, the charm is tickling your cheek as Caleb shifted slightly to stop his legs from numbing.

The insides of your stomach is dancing nervously. You feel like you're going to throw up.

Sure, you've been this close with Caleb before. But most of those times happened when you were younger. Things are a little different now.

The way you see him.... it's no longer the same way as you looked at him when you were kids. Now, you see him in ways that make your heart skip a beat as you imagine him holding you when you fall asleep at night.

"They're gone. Let's go!"

Caleb held your hand and together, you escaped from the castle just an hour before midnight.

This time, you'd gone out to fill your stomach with chicken skewers that both you and Caleb love. They are only available outside of the castle, so you don't always get to enjoy it unlike him, who has much more freedom.

Afterwards, you climbed a hill that gave you the best view of the kingdom, as well as the twinkling stars of the night sky.

You and Caleb found that spot years ago, and it's become one of your favorite places to cool off whenever you need to get away from the castle and momentarily forget about your princess and knight duties.

"The ball is just two days away. Are you excited?"

"I don't really mind parties and it is fun to host them, though it's also exhausting. I can't wait for it to be over already." you sigh. "I am a little nervous about the speech, but other than that, I think everything is all set."

"Don't worry. I'll prepare a cheat card for you. If you forget the words, just look for me in the crowd."

"Heh. Of course."

"What about dancing? Did you get enough practice or are you gonna keep stepping on people's feet?"

"I only did that to you one time!"

"More like five times."

"And that was before I started getting used to dances since I've started to attend lots of formal events with grandma. I'm way better now."

Caleb smiled before reaching out his left hand at you. "Prove it then, pip-squeak."

"What?"

"Dance with me."

"Right now? Here?"

"No time and place better."

You took his hand and got into position. There's no music, so Caleb provided one for you by humming a melody that sounds familiar yet you can't recall exactly where it's from.

The ground you stood on was pure grain and dirt, but you didn't care. All that matters right now is that you're together, and having him close to you is something that you'll always cherish.

"Hmm, you're right. Two minutes in so far and you haven't stepped on me. Already an improvement."

"I told you! I'm a good dancer now!" You then remembered something that was worth sharing. "Oh, but do you remember this one knight from when we visited Princess Tara? He was such a horrible dancer!"

While you broke into a rant, Caleb's eyes fell to your lips as they moved.

Just a little closer...

Just for a second, he wants to know how they would feel and how they would taste. Would they be as soft and sweet as he imagined?

So, so, close.

But he can't.

Caleb forced himself to look away and give a little distance between your faces and bodies. His gaze shifted to your shoulder so that he doesn't get caught into your bewitching features again.

He's a knight and you're the princess.

That's all.

Years ago, he could have been a prince, too. Josephine originally wanted to make you two her heirs to take over the crown once she steps down.

But Caleb realized that becoming an heir means that not only does he have to marry a princess from another kingdom for political purposes, he'll also have to devote his life to this kingdom. He didn't want to serve the kingdom. He just wanted to serve you and you only.

That's why he chose to be your knight. He decided to devote his life to you. He'll give his life to you, to protect you, for as long as he can. All he wants is to be by your side for as long as you let him.

Although, Caleb isn't sure if he's ready to accept the possibility that a prince will come and steal you away one day.

He will have no choice but to accept it.

He's going to have to brace himself every time you fall into someone else's arms. He'll just have to force himself to look away when another prince kisses the lips that he's only ever dreamt of.

It's a sacrifice he's willing to make as long as he can keep protecting you.

///////////

The speech went well, fortunately.

You were a little nervous with so many eyes on you, but Caleb standing right in front of you with a reassuring smile on his face made you feel light and safe. You were able to give your presentation without stuttering and making unnecessary hand movements.

Your grandmother looked proud, so you took that as a good sign. You immediately rewarded yourself with a glass of wine. Just one. It's nowhere near enough to mess with your senses, but plenty for you to relax and enjoy the party.

You sat with the Queen and enjoyed eating delicious meals with her. Then, your attention was requested by a prince who wanted a dance with you.

Your grandmother urged you to go to the dance floor before you could shove a macaron in your mouth.

The prince in an all-white suit caught that and laughed with amusement. He gave you some time to enjoy your dessert before patiently taking your hand and leading you to the area where other people are dancing.

Prince Xavier is from the neighboring kingdom. You two are good friends and frequently have meetings together.

Every time there's any political assemblies that require attendance of royalties, you always look for Xavier so you can sit next to him. He prefers to take naps than participate in discussions, so he's the best company you could have.

"Is the Princess dancing with Prince Xavier?"

Caleb overhears one of the guests.

"They would make quite a strong pair, wouldn't they? The two royal families unifying would certainly be helpful to both kingdoms."

He leans his back against the wall and watches the way your dress twirls along with your movements as your dance partner spins you around elegantly.

Caleb can't find it in him to look away from you.

Ever since he escorted you out of your room, wearing that beautiful dress, his eyes have been glued to you like a masterpiece in a museum.

Even when you're dancing with a prince who had one arm around your waist, he stared. Even when you laughed at something Xavier had said, Caleb didn't move his gaze.

When another princess had come up to him to ask him for a dance, he made an excuse. "I must keep a close eye on my princess the whole time in case of any danger. My apologies."

He only looked away from you for a brief moment, but when he returned his focus on you, Caleb caught you looking at him while one of your arms remained on Prince Xavier's.

He didn't break the eye contact.

And neither did you.

You feel like you're being pulled towards him by an invisible force, yet there was nothing that was stringing you in any direction.

It's just your racing heart.

You want to dance with Caleb just like how you did under the stars.

What would he say if you asked him?

Would he say yes simply because you're the princess?

You were terrified to find out.

And so, you ran off towards the food tables and ate away your feelings with the help of some desserts.

Doctor Zayne said eating sweet treats can make you feel better, and he's right.

"The red velvet cupcakes must be so good, even your cheeks are enjoying them."

You didn't even need to check who just showed up next to you. The reason for the butterflies in your stomach.

"Try one!"

You shoved a red cupcake in his mouth before he could reject you. He had no choice but to chew and swallow.

"You're right. It's yummy."

He then raised his left hand towards your face and brushed his fingers against your cheek to get rid of the frosting that stained your skin.

"Better be careful, princess. If you make a mess out of yourself, you might scare away any potential suitors eyeing you tonight. I can confirm, there are quite a few of them."

You scoff. "If they can't handle food crumbs, they're too weak for me."

Caleb laughs. "That's true. You do look your best when you're happily devouring snacks, after all."

"Oh yeah! That reminds me, you have to make that thing that you gave me the other day! It's so good and I need more of it!"

Caleb crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly while his eyes lights up at your compliment. "I don't know... I might have to start charging you. It takes time and hard work to make them, you know?"

"Fine, I'll give you whatever you want. I don't care. Just need more of it."

You started to daydream about the tasty snack, but you were instantly pulled out of it as Caleb asked you a question.

"Pip-squeak, you remember my reward for our hunting competition?"

You nodded. "I have to do something you want." You assume he'll ask for that now. "What is it? It better not be anything weird that'll make people laugh at me."

Caleb smiled softly. "I don't know. Some people might laugh, since it will be an unusual thing to see, but...."

"But..."

"But... will you... dance with me?"

You dropped the cupcake on your hand.

"Huh!?"

Caleb stood his ground with more confidence this time. He opened one hand in front of you. "Will you dance with me?"

For a moment, you wondered if you were dreaming.

Your heart accelerated and your palms started to sweat.

If this is just another dream, then you'll gladly enjoy it.

"I'd love to."

The feeling was the same as the last time. It didn't matter if you were alone on top of a dirty hill, or in a bright and colorful ballroom filled with people watching your every move.

As long as it's Caleb, it feels right.

It can't be anyone else. It has to be him. The one that you want to spend the rest of your life with. The one you want by your side. Not just as a knight, but a lover.

It has to be Caleb.

It's always been Caleb.

It will always be Caleb.

"If you keep looking at me like that..." he whispered as he rested his forehead against yours. "I might do something crazy."

"How crazy?"

"It might make grandma mad. Because... I might scare away the princes that want to steal you from me."

That was when you noticed it. The desperation in his eyes and voice.

He wanted it too.

The same thing that you want.

A life together.

A life where you're not just the princess and her knight.

"Maybe you should do it."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"You know why..." He looks down at his hand that rests on your hips. "You're the princess and I'm just a knight."

"So what?"

"We can't - I don't have anything to offer you."

You brought your hands on the back of his neck and pulled him even closer to you.

"All I want is you, Caleb. That's plenty already."

"But..."

"What's the point of being a princess with all this power, if I can't be with the one I truly love?"

Caleb's eyes widened as soon as the last word came out of your mouth.

His breath hitched and his grip on your waist tightened.

"If they want to take away my title, then so be it. At least, my heart will be where it wants to be." You meant every word and you've never been certain with anything in your life.

Caleb was terrified to move.

What if he makes one wrong move and suddenly, he's waking up on his bed and this was all just in his head?

It all feels too good to be true.

But once your warm, soft hands held his face, he realized just how real everyhing this.

It's now or never.

If he doesn't do it now, he might not get another chance.

And so, the knight kissed the princess.

//////////

Now, it's your turn to laugh at Caleb.

"Pay attention! As the Prince Consort, you have to know these things!"

"Grandma, I already know all this. I've done all my homework when I was in school, unlike a certain pip-squeak who just made me do her homework for her."

You grinned as you recalled the memories he was referring to. "Why did you do them? You could've just said no."

Caleb shook his head.

You both know very well that he can never say no to you. You have the power to make him do even the most ridiculous things in the world.

You can make him eat the most disgusting food.

You can make him climb the highest mountain.

You can make him stop somebody's heart.

All you have to do is ask and he will obey.

His life remains yours, always.

"Anyway, there's another hunting party so I have to get ready now. I'm still the Knight Commander, so I can't be late. See you later, grandma!"

Caleb rushed to you and picked you up bridal style as he runs away from the library.

"Pip-squeak, shall we have another competition? If I catch a bigger prey.... will you sleep in my room tonight?"

You lightly punched his chest at his suggestive smirk that had your face burning. "I'd do that if you just ask me normally, dummy. But if I win! You have to cook dinner for me!"

"Whatever you want, my princess."

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading roundup: march 2025

posting a day early because I don't want to stress about trying to speed read to finish either of the books I'm working on in the final hours of March lmao.

March has felt very long, thanks in part to a spring break extended by a trip to Alaska that culminated in a frantic, 24 hour scramble across three airports to get home in spite of some genuinely horrific weather and countless changed flights. among other problems, I didn't get to read as much as I would have liked to on the way home, because I was too busy stressing about whether or not I was going to make it home at all.

but! despite the horrors we persist, and March has still yielded an interesting book crop - and the first bingo on my 2025 book bingo sheet! also, in writing up this post I realized I read several trans authors (Liontas, Hoffman, Zhao, and several anthology contributors) during the same month when Trans Day of Visibility takes place. it wasn't intentional at all, but I do think it's neat :)

what have I been reading?

Sex With a Brain Injury: On Concussion and Recovery (Annie Liontas, 2025, read by Natalie Naudas) - Sex With a Bran Injury is by far the biggest smash success so far of my tentative foray into audio books. it weaves memoir, history, and politics, examining Liontas' own triad of traumatic head injuries as well as the history of such injuries and the factors that lead to them. Liontas examines figures such as Henry VIII, positing that his erratic behavior may have been the result of a head injury inflicted by jousting, as well as contemporary causes of concussions (hello, the NFL!) and the grim statistics for Black men with undiagnosed head trauma, many of whom end up losing years of their lives behind bars because of behavior directly caused by their trauma. it's all expertly woven into Liontas' own account of their repeated injuries and the strain it put on their relationships, particularly with their wife. Liontas articulates their changing mental capacities in excruciating detail, perfectly communicating the frustration and helplessness they felt as whole portions of their brain seemed lost to them and the myriad of reasons why they struggled to ask for help no matter how bleak things became. I also have to shout out Naudas for being a truly exquisite narrator, thoroughly embodying Liontas' narrative. her voice is so great to listen to that I genuinely want to go listen to more audio books just to hear more of her - especially since she's narrated some books I've already read and loved, like Nghi Vo's The Chosen and the Beautiful and Helen Hoang's The Heart Principle.

The Weavers of Alamaxa (Hadeer Elsbai, 2024) - Elsbai's first book, The Daughters of Izdihar, was sort of an unexpected gem for me last year, offering up a tale of fantasy feminism rooted in a city based on 20th century Egyptian. while it isn't strictly groundbreaking - magic users are lightly oppressed, women are oppressed, the rich girl has to learn class consciousness to ally with the poor girl for feminism - but I had fun! and then I read the second book in the duology, and I had... less fun. while Daughters certainly wasn't afraid to get dire - rampant misogyny, police brutality, the death of a supporting character during a protest gone wrong - Weavers escalated the stakes significantly, straight into a war against a neighboring monarchy that seeks to exterminate weaves (think elemental magic users comparable to Avatar's benders) altogether. what follows is a bloody struggle that kills off several more supporting characters before resolving itself with improbable speed, largely thanks to one of the protagonists gaining access to powerful new magic that feels, frankly, like Elsbai pulled it out of her ass. that sounds mean, but unfortunately this book just doesn't satisfy. the first book's struggle for suffrage, playing on familiar patterns with a fantastical twist, feels utterly lost in favor of heightening drama for drama's sake to the point that the previous book's plot feels almost perfunctory. could have been a standalone, I fear.

The Personality Brokers: The Strange History of Myers-Briggs and the Birth of Personality Typing (Merve Emre, 2018) - an indispensable read if you, like me, are an avowed MBTI hater - or, frankly, if you're an MBTI lover in need of a reality check re: the indicator's extremely eugenicist origins. emphasized with a crash course through the history of American psychological trends (including a truly unbelievable attempt to profile Hitler), this is a thorough and thoroughly WILD tour through the lives of Jungian child abuser Katharine Briggs and her crotchety, franchising daughter Isabel Briggs Myers. the only thing missing, for me, is more insider gossip on Emre's experience doing mandatory MBTI training in exchange for access to Myers Briggs' correspondence (spoilers: she was, ultimately, denied), but no book can give you everything.

The Prospects (KT Hoffman, 2024) - a romance between two minor league baseball players, one of whom is the first trans man in pro baseball! it's perfectly fine, although absolutely loaded with jargon about baseball politics that will mean nothing to you if you're not a baseball enjoyer and there's not strictly enough plot to justify being nearly 400 pages long. at risk of shamelessly self-promoting, a more thorough review will be up on my patreon on Tuesday :3

What My Bones Know: A Memoir of Healing From Complex Trauma (Stephanie Foo, 2022) - let me be so clear: I don't have CPTSD. I don't even have regular PTSD. I have different baggage and different mental health problems than Stephanie Foo does, and that's fine! not every memoir needs to hit at a personal level! but man... it hit at a personal level anyway, because despite our hugely different experiences and outcomes, Foo and I share a lot of the same struggles. reading about the ways she found to grow and heal beyond her hurt, all written about in a tone that's brusque and even humorous without ever cheapening the seriousness of the subject matter, really resonated with me. I'm unfamiliar with Foo's previous work in radio, but I got really emo reading about her progress, and the whole book made me feel really seen.

Convenience Store Woman (Sayaka Murata, 2016, trans. Ginny Tapley Takemori, 2018) - read this book in a single day at it is a TIME. Keiko you are god's strongest aroace autism warrior and you did not let ANYONE change you. you live and die by that convenience store, girl, fuck yeah.

Heavenly Tyrant (Xiran Jay Zhao, 2024) - I was so, so worried that after years of waiting Heavenly Tyrant wasn't going to live up to the hype of Iron Widow, and god. I should not have stressed even a little bit. while the giant mecha battles that were such a standout part of Iron Widow take a bit of a lesser role in the sequel, that's only because our heroine, Wu Zetian, is busy fighting for her life as she becomes the reluctant empress of Qin Zheng, world's #1 shithead socialist nightmare boyfriend. (your honor. I'm sorry. but he is SO funny.) after Weavers of Alamaxa this book was particularly satisfying in its portrayal of drawn out, bloody, terrifying political upheaval in which there are no clear good guys anywhere to be found. this book is too huge to be perfect - maybe it's overstuffed, maybe it's a little too didactic about socialism, maybe the writing is too uneven as it strains against the bonds of technically being YA - but I don't care, I couldn't put it down and it was wild enough to keep me entertained the whole way through. following in the footsteps of Iron Widow, the final few chapters of Heavenly Tyrant escalate the stakes to absolutely dizzying new levels, and I'm both confused and excited. where the hell will the third book go with this? I have no idea, but I can't wait to find out.

Meet Kaya (Janet Shaw, illustrations by Bill Farnsworth and Susan McAiley, 2002) - one of my lovely students recently gifted me a copy of Meet Kaya because Kaya was my #1 favorite of the historical characters from American Girl. (no, I never had a doll; I was a books only girlie.) these books are itty bitty and can be read in about 15 minutes, and they're jam-packed with little details about the time period and culture that each girl inhabits. in the case of Kaya, a Nimiipuu (or Nez Perce) girl living in 1764, I think that the story does suffer some from the amount of time that Shaw (a white woman) takes to explain aspects of Plateau Indian life that would be much less familiar to contemporary child readers than the lives of more recent, white characters like Victorian Samantha or WW2-era Molly. still, the book gave me a pleasant kick of nostalgia, and since I never finished the series as a kid (my school library was LACKING) I'd love to go back and finish them all now since they make for sweet palate cleansers, but first I want to do some investigating into any critique of the books from Nimiipuu or other Native critics to make sure that the depiction of Kaya and her family is at least moderately accurate and well-researched. while I was in Alaska I looked up another old favorite, Julie of the Wolves, and found that it's been pretty thoroughly panned by many Native reviewers for Jean Craighead George's sloppy depictions of Native language and culture (and of life in Alaska generally), and I'd rather not waste time on something if it's poorly written.

Consumed: The Need for Collective Change: Colonialism, Climate Change & Consumerism (Aja Barber, 2021, read by Barber) - there are parts of this book that are informative and interesting, namely regarding the wasteful excess of the textile industry and fast fashion in particular, but man. this book just felt very directionless and unfocused in places. I don't know that we needed to take time to explain that white people having negative experiences and difficult lives doesn't negate the concept of white privilege! surely we can expect a little more of the reader than that! as is, the activism 101 approach and Barber's exceedingly casual authorial voice makes this comes across as a book best suited to reality checking Shein-hauling 18 year olds.

Legacy: A Black Physician Reckons With Racism in Medicine (Uché Blackstock, MD, 2024) - I read this book in tandem with Linda Villarosa's Under the Skin: The Hidden Toll of Racism on American Lives and on the Health of Our Nation, which I'm still working on as I write this. while Villarosa takes a more journalistic, big picture approach to America's racial healthcare disparities, Blackstock gives an overview of many of those issues while providing a much more intimate account of her experiences as a Black legacy physician (after her mother, also Dr. Blackstock). it's both a touching tribute to the example set by Blackstock's mother and an excruciating look at the racism deeply entrenched in American healthcare, from the adulation of medical experiments done on enslaved people to the subpar care available to Black and brown communities in many parts of the country today.

Bury Your Gays: An Anthology of Tragic Queer Horror (ed. Sofia Ajram, 2024) - not to be confused with the Chuck Tingle horror novel of the same name! like many short story anthologies, this one has high highs and low lows, and if you're not a fan of stories in which the gays almost invariably die (sometimes from supernatural causes, and sometimes from run of the mill hate crimes), it's probably not worth the slog to find out which is which. my personal favorites were Son M.'s "This Body Is Not Your Home," which had the vibe of enjoyable YA written by a grade-A edgelord reminiscent of Alaya Dawn Johnson's gay zombie love story "Love Will Tear Us Apart"; August Clarke's "Cleodora," because I love evil dykes and creepy ladies from the sea; LC Van Hessen's "American Gothic," which is the second story in the collection to ask the evergreen question "what if you killed a guy while you were fucking him and then he came back, would that be fucked up or what?"; and November Rush's "Black Hole," which is sort of like Stephenie Meyer's The Host if it was fun.

and, as always, my bingo sheets:

the spontaneous sheet, filled in with whatever happens to apply, is going great! by my count I've got three bingos, and it's nearly completely full

the sheet for the boos that I actually planned out to complete all of the bingo prompts is... doing a little less awesome, to put it mildly, but I have plans to remedy the situation!

[theromaboo]

So... I believed in a fact about Tiberius for like a year, thinking it came from Suetonius. It turns out that the "fact" came to me in a dream and Suetonius never wrote it.

[sokkawordbender]

First of all, I would like to address the tags you put in your repost, feminism does not equate to anti religion specially anti Islam. Get that thing straight or seek a dictionary or perhaps a history book so you would know feminism arise from western part of the world where by the way Christianity has more roots than any other religion. And speaking of which, those men are not even qualified to be called Christians considering the amount of misdeed they have conducted according to their holy book. Same for mispracticing Muslims.

Now moving on to your elaborate speech.

Okay! So finally the stupid month of Ramadan has ended

Why wait? Should have just said in the month. That was cowardice. If you were brave enough to act out against the act of fasting when its Ramadan, You should be brave enough to speak about it when its Ramadan.

and i would love to share my experience of this month.

What experience? Clearly you learned nothing. All you did was sit there and made sure others were disturbed by your actions enough to ignore you and seclude in the safety of their rooms.

While my entire family was fasting, i happily ate my food all day and that too in front of everyone in the living room (Usually i eat my food in my bedroom but this time i intentionally didn’t).

Which is disrespectful, first and foremost. Since you are acting like a two year child who is deliberately acting out and rubbing in someone's face that they can't eat food and that you can eat and possibly get to have candy! Congrats on your whimsical victory I guess. The only thing this is proving is pettiness and not having basic sense of humanity and respecting other's boundaries. Did one of those Muslims or Hindus whoever that was fasting preached or forced you to keep a fast with them? If you're not fasting that's your choice and if they are fasting that's their choice. Clearly, given by the anecdotes of your behavior of acting out and lack of respect for others, you would totally freak out and play the victim that your were forced. Once again, you are claiming to be feminist, but lack the basic respect of being so. Feminism was never about demeaning other's practices for channeling hatred towards anyone's faith, rather it was about gaining equality. Sadly, it seems to have lost its meaning with people like you using it for rage baiting against religion.

Not only that, i also often played music on TV and would dance celebrating my freedom instead of wasting my precious energy cooking and cleaning for hungry, tired and sweating men.

Once again, if you want to listen you can. You do know that the people who are fasting possibly don't even give a dime about it? I hardly doubt anyone was even offended by your misconduct. That's what fasting was for, according to Islam; steadfastness and building endurance. And if you had actually read about it (from the' novel' you called it) instead of ranting it out against Muslims and men around you, you would actually know and not from filtered media that was fed to you. No matter how much you try to insinuate that you have done so well trying to disrespect people who didn't possibly irritate you or do something that would sure to annoy you, I don't see why they are getting the opposite treatment from you? I am always surprise to see people who think they can say and do whatever they want to others without accounting the fact this might happen to them too.

You wanted applause for your effort for annoying them for practicing their faith? So you came on tumblr and wrote something that would get you approval???

‎If anybody in my family felt hungry watching me eating or felt disturbed by anything i'd do which is prohibited for them to do during this month, they would go inside their rooms and spend the whole day there reading allah's novel AS THEY SHOULD because it’s not like they have anything else to do.

Wow, good job! Bravo you made them do good deeds when they could have argued or shown rebuttal against you. But oh my God! You guided them to follow their teachings of religion by ignoring your provocations and not collect sins by returning you with what you gave them.

Once again, doing it in their face must have felt so nice, 2 minutes of satisfaction, for sure, must have made you to feel a sense of greatness and superiority. How wonderful, not everyone is able to reach that level of humanity.

Also, if you were even a bit more knowledgeable I would have considered your claim. But calling it Allah's novel and not even knowing the actual name and ridiculing it just proves the lack of knowledge on the matter. Know your opponents at least before going out against them. Otherwise you are no different than an armless and unskilled fool of a soldier.

That’s the most respectful thing muslims should do for non-muslims and for themselves as well; go and hide in the closet or inside your burka 🥷

Well you should be respectful as well in the first place, considering you are just evidentially quoting that they respect you by leaving you alone with your antics of disrespect. I doubt they even register you as a matter of concern at all. Your childish tantrums would most likely not even bother them that's why they probably just move to their rooms or just ignore you. I can't believe that you actually sat there and spent time on doing something so ridiculous and meaningless, which instead you could have been spending in something productive. Im just processing the fact that you spent you time to just sit and made life difficult for other and probably would have liked it if the same gesture was returned to you. Not only you made your self look like a disrespectful fool but also a terrible human who has no sense of humanity and boundaries.

because why the fuck would we normal people change our daily routines or be careful not to eat something in front of a fasting moron?? It’s you muslims who should not disturb others enjoying their lives just because you can’t.

Nobody asked you to change your routine? Did they tell you to fast with them? Did they tell you not to eat? Did they tell you to pray? Or did they forbid you from eating? You can enjoy your life without purposefully disturbing others. I know many Muslims and Hindus as well who silently do their prayers and fasting and they don't impose on others. I have never seen anyone forcing a non Muslim to do. Never have I ever seen a muslim or hindu be offended by someone eating infront of them and even Deliberately eating in front of them, because they don't care at all. Its your social misbehavior that they are rather concerned of that you don't even have intellect to recognize. Just the act of their prayer or fasting offends you? Aw poor baby... Doesn't know how to swallow up their pride and what was that said ...Ah yes... not disturb others enjoying their lives just because you can’t.

Fasting is the most weirdest thing anyone can do; regardless of whether it’s a hindu woman doing it for her husband’s long life or a muslim

Again, its their religion and their acts of rituals. They are not forcing on you, there is no need for you to making them stop doing it. You don't get to speak for them by disrespecting them.

If you find it weird, you can. Just like they find you behavior of lack of respect for others weird.

doing it for some invisible god because he told you to feel the hardship of poor people.

Perhaps there is a lesson for you to learn from it. You should understand hardships of other people so that you may gain some empathy and not mix it up with feminism and make ridiculous posts about it.

I think your illiterate god doesn’t know that fasting is not something women should be doing.

Then why don't you be literate and leave people be or having basic decency of not ridiculing them? Clearly their God taught them not to reply to people ridiculing them. So how are you better compared to that? If anything you proved yourself to be worse.

It’s not good for our wellbeing, and especially on our periods women need to eat more, rest more and not work at all.

Good, agreed. Because once again nobody is forcing you to. As for others, just like you think you are in charge of knowing what's beat for you, I think others are pretty much capable of this ability as well. I have not seen a woman on period being prevented to eat. Go and eat if you want to eat without being a nuisance and crying about it. I'm also a woman and this is ridiculous. What is this some food curfew? I think we are 21st century women, we don't need permission to eat and certainly we don't need to rub it in anyone's face that we are better than others. That is highest form of arrogance no different from a mentality of a shrewd and narcissist man.

Go and do your research on female body instead of brainwashing yourself with islamic propaganda articles.

The most brainwashing that has ever been done without people even know is by media and news. You follow every trend you see and try to be 'up to date'. Why don't you do proper research about Islamic propaganda yourself and actually do your homework then come talk to me because I'll be here to counter argue you. Clearly, you haven't been know to the fact that everything on social media is not true. And it is twisted up from the perspective of the person who is post is posting. The fact that media and news is believed without checking facts, even in this era, it amazes me and disappoints me all the same. You believe Muslims to be your easy target of hatred(considering the fact that you said that they did nothing against your hate crime against them so you think it is okay for you to continue doing it) because you have seen on media and whatnot, but in reality none has cause you harm. As a matter of fact you yourself have said that they have left you alone even when you disrespected them and tried to provoke them without a cause. I'm speaking this for all my Muslim, Hindu and Christian friends who are falsely being accused of committing the act being the hated by just praying and fasting. Seriously, how much would the act of them prating and fasting by themselves could have offended you that you did not even bother to show basic decency?

Men should get up and prepare food for the entire family and clean up after everyone so the women can rest. It doesn’t matter if he’s a labour worker or a military man who almost faced death lol.

Which by the way they do irrespective of religion. Any man who has basic manners and respects others do that. Religion is not related to their biased opinions on misogyny. Sexism is not just towards women, it can be towards men as well. And considering you are generalizing all men in this category, aren't you the one who is being sexist? How are you any different?.

He should do all the housework as well

Considering the fact that, if the woman is also a breadwinner in the house then, yes, the man should be contributing to household chores. Ain't no reward for him for that. But if he is the only breadwinner that is unfair and in noway i am implying that the man should force on women on that basis. Similarly for the opposite case as well. However, I strongly believe that every man and woman should know and do their own chores and be accountable for at least their own being. There is no excuse for them to not do their dishes or laundry or whatever just because the have their partner at convenience to do it for them and gender biasing the task. This is gas lighting and low.

because men’s only purpose is to serve women.

No, it is not and neither is vice versa. No one is made to serve others. Everyone deserves self respect and imposing such an idea of servitude makes you no better than the ones that you are speaking against. Acts of serving others in need comes from kindness and empathy for others. If you are heartless you can't feel it and imply such excuses, be it a man or woman. And of course exploiting the kindness of others, so they would do more work for you is plain disgusting. It is not okay for a man neither a woman to do it.

The fact that i don’t get to see that in muslim families is very sad and concerning.

Because you don't want to see. You are only seeing the negativity that you have created in your mind about Muslims. I live with lots of different religious people. And the fact that I see them without biasness helps me know about them better. You are not even considering the fact that maybe you are unable to see it because you disrespect them by ridiculing them and doing something that would for sure be guaranteed to provoke them. They ignore you because they know what you are up to. If you had not acted out and deliberately made fun of their fasting/prayers/book and attire you would actually see more than physical aspects; you would see the things that you are questioning here. Specially questioning attire is so low. I would say if any Muslim woman question your bikini or shorts, because according to their teachings nudity is sin, what would you have done? You would have ranted on social media and shouted out for being denied rights. Would they impose that you are being fooled to wear bikini in front of these men producers and audience by deciding it for you that it liberates you and you can do whatever you want? Well so can Muslim women wear their burka how they want. The fact this is said without realizing the hypocrisy of the notion is amazing.

Islam has turned the natural course of life, matriarchy, upside down so it’s time we eliminate this cult of a religion from this world along with other religions so women can live freely in a matriarchal society.

Matriarchal society??? I can't believe the mirage you live in. The fact that feminism spread far and wide in 18 and 19 century and encouraged women to standup for them selves prices the fact that they were living in a patriarchal society (western). Because in eastern part of the world it arrived much later.

Men had been dominant and privileged since forever. To understand patriarchy, we must first explore its historical origins. Patriarchy is a social construct where men predominantly wield power, and it has existed for centuries, dating back to the agricultural revolution. Here I list you from the pages of history:

As early as when nomadic hunter-gatherer societies settled agricultural communities marked the beginning of patriarchal systems. In agrarian societies, land ownership and surplus food production became central to power and wealth. Consequently, men, who typically performed physically demanding tasks, such as plowing and hunting, gained a dominant position. This newfound control over resources led to the subjugation of women, who were often relegated to domestic roles, deemed less valuable in the eyes of society.  

Patriarchy’s influence extends across many aspects of modern life, contributing to disparities in education, employment opportunities, and income between genders. It also plays a role in normalizing gender-based violence and control over women’s reproductive rights.  

The media and popular culture often reinforce patriarchal norms by perpetuating gender stereotypes and objectification. I don't think media is hands of a Muslim though??? I wonder who approves and pots stuff out there for us to see and feed on?. Not to mention the exploitation and raping of female and children in filming and music industry is insane. Where is the religion in that? Its the nature of certain type of men who have gathered weather it be holly wood, Bollywood of k pop whatever, they do these immoral acts and stand at top under the guise of colorful media. The patriarchy is is still roots deep.

In agrarian societies, land ownership and surplus food production became central to power and wealth. Consequently, men, who typically performed physically demanding tasks, such as plowing and hunting, gained a dominant position. This newfound control over resources led to the subjugation of women, who were often relegated to domestic roles, deemed less valuable in the eyes of society.  Consequently, women were often relegated and subjected to societal norms that limited their opportunities and autonomy. The enduring impact of patriarchy continues to shape gender dynamics, perpetuating gender inequality and reinforcing harmful stereotypes, ultimately hindering progress toward gender equality. 

According to author Angela Saini “The first clear signs of women being treated categorically differently from men appear much later, in the first states in ancient Mesopotamia, the historical region around the Tigris and Euphrates rivers in what is now Iraq, Syria and Turkey. Around 5,000 years ago, administrative tablets from the Sumerian city of Uruk in southern Mesopotamia show those in charge taking great pains to draw up detailed lists of population and resources.” 

In Chinese, patriarchy runs deep. Not just Chinese, Korean, Japanese and many other similar cultures as well. In fact most of their language is very misogynistic. Lots of concubines, wives and whatnot had been the norm and women have been considered as property. Quick reference: https://youtu.be/QhUYHp1N3Gk?si=3NXZ6QhbhdMKja2b . for understanding the still existing misogyny in Chinese. There are many books as well to do your research.

The concept of patriarchy, with men holding authority over women and children, has roots in ancient societies and religious texts, including the Old Testament and early Christian thinking. Considering that most of west in christian in faith, I wonder what that has to say about it.

Medieval England was a patriarchal society, where women's lives were heavily influenced by beliefs about gender and authority, with men holding economic and legal control over their wives. Lets not even talk about pre world war era. Where women didn't even had right to education and vote. Also, the monarchy system. Well itself explanatory.

There are many others history references I can give you that dates back to before even Islam came around 1400 years ago. The fact that you are generalizing a group of people based on biasness and not wanting to actually think about it is a sign of ignorance and trying so hard to be "know it all" about people.

If you you don't want to fast, Don't. No one is forcing and neither should you force others not to fast. Get a life, find productive things to do rather than teasing others of their prayers.

‎🌙 Eid Mubarak! ✨🥰

Keep the pretentiousness yourself. You can't wish eid to anyone after saying that 'stupid' Ramadan ended and teasing them while they were fasting as if you did nothing to make it difficult for them. Adding a happy face with hearts is not going to change who you are. As you cared in the first place. This is documentation of your hypocrisy.

So once again we are in the month of Ramadan where girls and women in muslim families would be starving for the whole day while also cooking so much food for the whole family to eat in iftar, cleaning the entire house for unexpected guests, not allowed to fast during menstruation but also still can’t eat anything because men of the family shouldn’t know she’s on her periods nor can she take rest because she still has to do the cooking, washing loads of dishes after the entire family is done with the iftar and then also cooking dinner. Meanwhile men would sleep for the entire day, would go to mosque just one or two times to pray and then come back and lie on their bed again while watching TV , and then later complain about the food not being cooked properly like the shameless filths they are. Even if a man would stand up and help his female family members in the kitchen, muslim women would praise him like he deserves a noble peace prize for that.

I am glad i stopped fasting in ramadan months a long time ago. I am happily eating my food and drinking water and not doing anything for anyone. I don’t give a shit if any one of these fasting morons feel hungry or thirsty while watching me enjoying my food.

[lieutenantselnia]

Sometimes you just find quotes from historical figures that make you go "yeah, they may not have been particularly the best person ... but the specific thing they point out right there, big mood"

[sendmyresignation]

I didn't finish Girls to the Front partly bc I got distracted but partly bc I heard a few other people saying it felt biased or lacking a further critical analysis, I'm curious it it references any of the women who were involved in DC hardcore or hardcore in general, re the books assertion that hardcore is overly technical and masculine point thay you alluded to in your tags. I know that it was still a very male dominated scene but the continued way that some people act like the women who were there didn't matter or aren't worth discussing has always irked me, and I'm curious if you had thoughts

sorry, i just got the time to answer this! i wanted to be able to give some quotes so it didn't look like i was pulling anything out of my ass. but yeah, so while the book does occasionally mention women in hardcore, Marcus has this rhetorical strategy where she brings them up, but not without first diminishing their existences and then dismissing their contributions.

There's reasons for this, I think, actually. One is that she really wants to sell this idea that punk was more influenced by women in the 70s and then, suddenly hardcore happened and the "macho-ism" of hardcore meant that the 80s lacked the previous generations female presence: "its penchant for louder-faster-harder performances and frenetic slam dancing were catnip for boys anxious to blow off adolescent steam... [the mosh pits] drove most girls to the sidelines". This is true... but only to a certain extent and is also a generalization, the other thing is I think she just reallllly wants to make riot grrls this supreme influence on women in the 90s, like there were sooo few women in DC (not out front, not as personalities, as she quotes from Jen Smith). But, by writing off the entirety of the 80s, she loops hardcore and posthardcore together?? like rev summer bands were explicitly challenging the violence and the "hard" rhetoric with vulnerability- spiritually v connected to riot grrl. and, ofc, rev summer was conceptualized by amy pickering! like she is directly responsible for not just the term but is herself the catalyst (Marcus says: "The scene's previous golden age... was what Fire Party's Amy Pickering had then dubbed Revolution Summer" which I feel removes a lot of her involvement, esp when Marcus criticized the fact Fire Party rehearsed religiously for months before performing live, therefore they weren't a part of the summer itself and also stood in contrast to the Olympia-riot grrl values of anyone-can-play diy). She also, in an attempt to re-enforce this riot grrl linage into The Canon excludes women in DC who weren't direct inspirations on riot grrl (so for example, Chalk Circle is mentioned a hell of a lot in these histories bc she was a mentor for Olympia grrls after moving to Cali, wrote a precursor zine that a lot of riot grrls read, and was in a band with Kathleen Hanna, Holly Rollers always gets mentioned bc of Juliana Luecking, etc) but Pickering and others gets left out bc she's an imperfect role model (wanted her band to be seen outside the paragram of gender, she worked at Dischord, booked shows, was friends with most of the hardcore scene). Unsurprisingly, then, Marcus v. conveniently leaves out the black women in DC; Pickering's band included drummer Nicky Thomas (who is literally never named in the book, only Pickering is mentioned when talking about Fire Party which i find particularly egregious) and their first show was dedicated to Toni Young of Red-C and Dove who were legit hardcore bands.

She also is weirdly inconsistent about the contributions of female instrumentalists (that idea of personalities...); again, the members of Fire Party outside their vocalist are never mentioned, Unwound is briefly offhandedly namedropped but Sarah Lund's name never appears, Christina Billotte is mentioned and quoted when she's involved in riot grrl (Autoclave-era; later she would grow distant from the DC meetings) but is only passingly mentioned when Slant 6 is formed and none of her bandmates are named, Maria Jones is name dropped as a significant presence in DC because of the Holly Rollers connection but none of the other bands she was in are shared, including the all-girl, all openly queer Broken Siren, I could go on and on and on. Unless you were a frontwoman or directly involved in riot grrl, you were not relevant enough for Marcus to care about, which I find frustrating. who gives a fuck about female vocalists when the "technical" nature of guitar or drums makes them much more gender-locked positions in rock music? again, there's also a divergence about proficiency, as if attempting to perform complex, serious music was like.... giving into the masculine musical culture? which i find incredibly essentialist and insulting to women invested in their craft. Ultimately I find Marcus incapable of adequately accounting for the variety of women and their reasoning for being in a band during this period and it does a disservice to the history to simply pretend any woman not Doing It Correctly is worth forgetting or dismissing. so, hopefully that answers your question lmao. id still recommend girls to the front, if just because it presents riot grrl pretty unedited and the timeline is super helpful when dealing with a very fragmented small subculture and seeing that it gets preserved. but MAN did a lot of the analysis get on my nerves lmao

[realdyke]

honestly i can't even fucking cap anymore

[thejudeduarte]

Thank you for tagging me @enjoyerofstories and @lunarthecorvus <3

What's the origin of your blog title?

Jude Duarte is my favourite fictional character and at the time I made this blog I was planning on it being a cruel prince centred blog only. Things have definitely changed (this is now just a whatever I feel like blog) but the username has stuck. That and I'm just soo uncreative 😭😭

OTP'(s) + their shipname:

- Jude x Cardan (Jurdan) (The Folk of the Air)

- Rin x Nezha (Rinezha) (The Poppy War)

- Kaz x Inej (Kanej) (Six of Crows)

- Selwyn x Bree (x Nick) (Selbree/Brickwyn) (Legendborn)

- Victor x Eli (Evervale) (Vicious)

(I could be here all day so I'm gonna stop now but you guys get the point)

Favourite colour?

Pink!!! 💕

Favourite game?

Board/card game or video game? Uno is always a classic

What song is currently stuck in your head?

Weirdest habit/trait?

I have no idea I wish I had one that sprung to mind

Hobbies?

Rock painting, reading (obviously), colouring, going on walks, dance ect

If you work, what's your profession?

I'm still at school and I don't have a job currently

If you could have any job, what would it be? Realistically?

I'd love to be an author

Something your good at?

I'm very academic so I guess I'm good at school and during exams

Something your bad at?

Socializing 😭

Something you love?

My cat she's my everything🫶

Something you could talk about for hours on the cuff?

The Legendborn Cycle, it's my current hyperfixation and I could talk about it for days on end

Something you hate?

Sports/pe it makes me so uncomfortable

Something you collect?

Snow globes!! I almost have 100. I also collect books, keyrings and stuffed animals I guess

What's your love language?

I actually have no idea I've never been in a relationship before so haven't got a clue. Honestly just all of them (minus gift giving because I'm shit at giving gifts)

Favourite movie/show?

I love the Maze Runner movies I think they're great. I'm also a sucker for Frozen too

Favourite food?

Pizza will never get old. That or a nice roast.

Favourite animal?

Cats, elephants, rhinos and orangutans

What were you like as a child?

I think I was a cute child. I had a couple of meltdowns tho and was definitely more stubborn than my sister ever was 😭

Favourite subject at school?

English literature!! I love it so much. This and history

Least favourite subject?

Maths no explanation needed.

What's your best character trait?

I am quite clean and always keep my room tidy and try to keep my living room and kitchen clear as well. I really don't like mess

What's your worst character trait?

I hate how awkward I am around people I don't know and crowded places and I hate how my anxiety stops me from being extroverted and doing new things.

If you could change any details of your life right now, what would it be?

I have a dance exam I really don't want to do on Thursday so probably cancel that??

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet?

I honestly have no idea, never ever thought about it before.

No pressure tags: @letmeliveinelfhame @tunguszka20 @chaiichait @starrynightsxo @justreadinandwritinlol

Get to know your mutuals Game

Oooohh thank you for the tag @holy3cake

No pressure tagging @gwalch-mei @beginning-writer + OPEN TAG FOR ALL to answer these 27 random questions, I'll put a blank version in the comments!

What's the origin of your blog title?

Originally, "OnCrimsonWings" is my Ao3 username, which was a poetic kinda reference to Dante from Devil May Cry because his demon form has red wings. When I made this blog I knew I wanted it to include a reference to Lancelot/The Weeping Monk, so I just added "Lanced" to the Ao3 name.

It works on so many levels- as I also like winged Whumpees as a trope in general, and the name to me brings an image of a winged creature or person pinned by something sharp through the wing. It also works more as a poetic angel metaphor for Lancelot, as he's referred to as a dark/avenging angel in the role he's been molded into by the Church in Cursed, a role which is ultimately his downfall, like a fallen angel with crimson, or bloodied wings...

OTP(s) + Their shipname;

Lancewain; Lancelot (The Weeping Monk) x Gawain (The Green Knight) from Cursed

Melvik; Mel x Viktor from Arcane (also Jayvik; Jayce x Viktor, and Meljayvik; Mel x Jayce x Viktor)

Zaundads/Vanco; Vander x Silco from Arcane

BuckyNat/WinterWidow; Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) x Bucky Barnes (The Winter Soldier) Marvel

Gwaenyra (Gwayne x Rhaenyra; House of the Dragon)

Colonel Everett Young x Dr. Nicholas Rush; Stargate Universe - I actually never really saw a shipname for these guys or I've forgotten it if I did know one

There's a bunch of others but that will do for now lmao

Favourite colour?

Purple!

Favourite game/s?

The Witcher 3, Skyrim, currently enjoying Monster Hunter, though the thing I have most hours in might actually be Fall Guys...

What song is currently stuck in your head?

In Maidjan by Heilung, I'm excited to see them live again soon!

Weirdest habit/trait?

I sit like a goblin in any and all chairs. (Except for when I'm physically tattooing, or in a formal meeting. Otherwise? If there is a chair I will be perched on it like a bisexual ass Goblin 100% of the time).

Uhhh and I can bend the first knuckle (closest to the fingertips) on my fingers whilst keeping the second/middle knuckles perfectly straight/locked.

Hobbies:

Playing piano, making cosplays, making chainmail, listening to music, playing D&D, keeping snakes and also doing Archery, as of late!

If you work, what's your profession?

Tattooing- for the next two weeks anyway. I also volunteer at my local zoo and do commission pet portraits!

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Realistically?

Tattooing but at a studio with a working toilet, repaired roof and decent non falling apart floors, where I am NOT the sole member of the studio 😂

Otherwise, doing something arty like making things or running my small buisness full time. Or if all goes well with this insane Uni plan I have, then working with snakes in some way shape or form. Not sure how, yet but. I dunno, it might be cool.

Something you're good at:

I'm a really creative person and I come up with a lot of really cool ideas!

Something you're bad at:

Maths, I mean I just struggle with numbers in general. And telling my left from right 😂

Something you love: 

Daniel Sharman. I mean. Look at him man's stunning

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: 

Snakes! And I did that when I took the snakes in to Scouts and taught them about snakes with not much prep time at all 😂

Something you hate:

People trying to control other people or put their views on them. (Eg. Very religious people that try and force you to believe their religion. Or Antis that hate on a fictional trope or ship or theme and think no one is allowed to read or write it. That sort of thing)

Something you collect: 

Books! I have several hundered, at this point, and that's after having to bin about 300 due to severe damp in a previous house.

Something you forget: 

I dunno. I forgot

What's your love language?

Giving gifts, I think, but I also like touching/leaning on people who I love (only when my skin doesn't feel bruised, which is basically always, and honestly most of the time I'm touch averse lmao). I'm not really sure.

Favourite movie/show: 

Movie; Labyrinth, Lost Boys, Avatar I & Avatar II: the way of water, LOTR Trilogy

Show; Arcane, The Witcher and Cursed

Favourite food:

I really like homemade stew and mash, but I can't make it (thanks fatigue) so I haven't actually had it in years. I love roasties (roasted potatoes) with copious amounts of butter on.

Favourite animal:

Snakes! Specifically I love Dumeril's Boas, Madagascan Ground Boas- and have one of each myself- and I have a soft spot for Boelen's Pythons and European Adders!

What were you like as a child? 

Always daydreaming in my own little world, shy, but also I had anger issues at the age of 4... so a bit of a shitbag lmao.

Favourite subject at school?

Art or Science, though I also liked music!

Least favourite subject: 

Maths. I always used to get yelled at for refusing to do homework, and for drawing in my book and putting my headphones in to listen to music. (It was actually helping me focus, but the fact I had ADHD was completely missed so I just got yelled at for it. I still got a B in my GCSEs though so fuck em!)

What's your best character trait?

I'm incredibly organised (because if I wasn't my life would be an absolute shambles as my memory is shit), and I'm very good at problem solving! If character trait more means "personality" then it would probably be that I am a very caring person.

What's your worst character trait?

I can be very stubborn and headstrong paired with the fact I am a control freak and like things organised, then that tends to frustrate both the people around me and myself...

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be?

I'd cure my disabilities. Just so I could continue tattooing and take on the studio- or just open my own elsewhere, or I'd go get a career out in the field with snakes and not have to worry about fatigue, collapse, pain or dietary issues wherever I went!

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet?

Chester Bennington, 100%. I miss him. It's one of the biggest regrets of my life that I was meant to go and see him live on that final tour and I couldn't afford the tickets thanks to an unexpected bill. He was, and still is my hero.

[alittleemo]

man they rlly said we are going to make your grocery store experience so miserable and hangry bc the rest of your day will be so overwhelmingly good we need to balance it out brother. and wow it rlly was great what a 180

[arolesbianism]

Mark meeting ded is just gonna be him going btw have you heard of the music producer 8ballin' 👉👈? And ae is just gonna sit there like I've been in every wrong place that you can imagine for the past half a decade you tell me

[inthehexcore]

pages and books

summary: The quiet Enforcer stops by your quiet library. Multiple times.

content: STEB! librarian!reader gets sick, fluff, can't think of much else! probably ooc

wordcount: 2.397

a/n: i love Steb so much... inbox/requests open!

⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The sun in Piltover shone as bright as it always did. It lit up the entire library, and you could not help but hum as you pushed the cart of books around. The warmth of the rays only made the building look more beautiful, something which you were not aware was even possible.

The high ceilings with curved windows and hand-painted images, detailed golden pillars, royal blue seats with dark wooden tables. Not all of your fellow students liked the library. To be fair, there were tons of other stunning places all around Piltover, but yours was here.

You spent so much time surrounded by the books that you just ended up taking a side job as the assistant. It meant pouring coffee and putting back books, but it also meant reading when everything was cleaned and drinking the sweet tea that was technically only meant for the professors.

With the library not being the most popular spot, it also allowed you to brush up on skills and even pick up new things to learn. The history of Piltover, Professor Heimerdinger's autobiography, varieties of plants, but most recently, you found a book about sign language. It was interesting for sure. Every time you put the loaned books back in their spot, another one got added to the stack of other books that you still wanted to read during your breaks.

So, as per usual, you sat at the window near the counter. Even with it being your break, you still liked to be close to your workspace, just in case someone came in.

A steaming cup of tea stood beside your book as you flipped through the pages, admiring the photographs of Piltover's 'ten most beautiful buildings', occasionally stirring the cup of tea and taking a sip out of it. Stuck in your own world, though your gaze moved to outside the window ever so often. From here, you could see the main square - the market, Enforcers, students.

The watch around your wrist kept ticking away, reminding you that your break had already stopped a few minutes ago. A neat bookmark got placed between the pages of the book as you turned around, nearly dropping the hot beverage that you were holding.

Right in front of you stood a tall Enforcer. His face was blank and his hands were clasped behind his back. You were nearly jealous of his posture - you must have looked idiotic with how hunched over you were sitting.

"Oh, Officer! I hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long."

The man slowly shook his head, his eyes set on you as you moved back to the counter, placing the book that you were reading back on its space. He took a step closer, his arms still behind him.

"What can I help you with today?"

He held out his hand, a small note hidden in the grip of his glove. A short list with some of the most specific books you had seen in a while. Even though you did not dare to ask him why he needed all of these, you could not help but try to theorize.

Maybe he was working on a weapon, or what if he went off into the wilderness and build a house out of nothing but sticks and mud?

"Ha, this might take me a moment to find. Would you like some tea, Officer?"

Quietly, he stared at you for a moment before shaking his head. He just had his break - after bringing these books to Commander Kiramman, his day was basically over. Patrol for an hour, and then it was time for him to relax. Finally away from all the loud sounds of the city. But being in the empty library was not unwelcome, either.

"I will be back in a sec!"

It was much longer than a sec.

With every minute, you got more and more anxious. How could you keep an Enforcer waiting for this long? There was no one in the entire library! Your footsteps sounded heavy and you felt like every breath you took was one too loud. But, after fifteen minutes and lots of going up and down ladders, you finally found all the books on his list.

"And... Phew! This should be all," you wiped your hands, "Do you need help bringing it to... your office?"

Silently, the Enforcer shook his head again, reaching for the stack of thick books as he held them in his hands.

"Oh! What name can I put these on? That way I can remember, for next week!"

Next week? Oh, to return the books.

The man looked around him for a moment before his eyes fell on the small notebook next to you. He glanced at it as he looked back at you. You furrowed your eyebrows for a moment before going 'aha!', reaching for your notebook as you opened it on a blank page, handing him your pen. If you could have, you would have chuckled. A strong officer writing in your sparkly notebook with a neon-coloured gel pen.

He put the pen back down, nodding before taking one step back.

"Thank you so much. Till next time, Officer Steb."

Even with the interaction being a little under a week ago, you still had not moved on from it. His intense, blue gaze, his straight and confident posture. His handwriting even - it was immortalized in your notebook.

You found yourself looking for him through the windows, and while walking through the square, you would keep an eye out for his tall figure. 'He still has two days to return the books,' you thought to yourself. Most people even turned their books in late. But he was an Enforcer, so you highly doubted that he would.

Humming again as you placed the books back on the shelves, your cart now empty. Except for a few students in the far corner of the library, you were all on your own. You didn't mind - it left you with some time to finish up the essay that was due for tomorrow. So, with a sigh, you pushed the cart back to the counter.

There, in front of the small spot where you always sat, stood Officer Steb. It seemed to immediately lift your spririts as the cart suddenly felt much lighter.

"Officer Steb!"

His ears slightly moved back a little, not expecting your voice to suddenly pop up, but as he saw you, he gave you a nod.

"And, how did you like the books?"

He only nodded in return, placing the stack of books down on the counter. All of them had been put in alphabetical order - he must be an organized man. You pulled up his page, making sure that you had all the correct books as you nodded, scribbling down all the extra information before handing him the handwritten receipt.

"Could I do anything else for you, Officer?"

Steb was quiet - he was quiet often times. Out of his pocket, he fished another note with a few more books on it. The Undercity's History, a cookbook, 'Haircutting for Dummies!', and some more titles. You glanced up at him, trying hard not to let chuckles escape from you.

"Are these… All for you?"

You spot the tiniest shape of a smile as he shook his head. He tapped his Enforcer badge as you nodded, an 'oooh' as you looked back at the list.

"Be right back!"

This time, you found the books much faster. Not that Steb minded if you took a while - he enjoyed the library. He liked the books, the smells, the sun - you. Maddie offered to bring all the loaned books back to the library, but by the time she could even think about standing up, Steb was already out the door. The rest of the Enforcers shrugged it off as the man just wanting to spend some quiet time on their own. It was what he did.

But you.

How… Happy you always were. Cheery, but not overwhelmingly so. A bright flash of the sun through dark clouds. A stark contrast to his stoic demeanour, fire and water.

"There we go," you hummed, brushing a strand of hair out of your face as you pushed the cart back to the desk, "Can I put it under Officer Steb again?"

Hearing his name coming from you felt new, refreshing. He nodded, reaching over for the stack.

"Well, if you use the haircut book, let me know."

Steb snorted with a smile before clearing his throat, quickly standing back up straight before nodding. He was looking forward to next week.

For months, he came every single Tuesday, always around the same time. It must be during his break, or during his patrol. Only once had someone else shown up, Officer Nolan, as she introduced herself. She was nice and very talkative, so the two of you spent quite some time at the desk, chatting away. The week after that, Steb had written something extra on a note that he had stuck in a book.

'Sorry for Officer Nolan'

It had made you laugh.

Every week, the list of books would be different from the one before. Not only that, but the topics of said books could not be further apart. It was after a month of wondering that Steb answered the burning question that you had in mind. 'They are for the entire squad. They make a list, I get the books.' It made sense. So now, every week, you would try to guess which of the Enforcers would be reading which book. A fun little game, and thankfully Officer Steb would humour you, nodding or shaking his head depending on if your guess was right.

Over time, it felt like a friendship. More details of Steb came to the surface, and he would ask about your day. Favorite foods, hobbies, things you both hated. Officer Steb did not speak much, but he was comforting company. If bringing the book was his last task of the day, then he would stay at the library for a moment, starting the book that was meant for him. The last few times, you also placed a cup of tea next to him when he wasn't looking. It was like a challenge to see if he noticed you sneaking up on him - he did, but he would have never told you.

Today had been a bad day.

You slipped on your way to the library, there was a group of loud kids in the library, your head was pounding and you were not sure if you were feeling hot or cold. With a pack of tissues in your hand, you sniffed, squeezing your eyes shut.

The large windows and bright sun felt like a curse as you wished for nothing more than it to be dark outside. At least the group of rowdy teenagers had finally left.

When you heard the door open again, you nearly groaned in annoyance. If they returned, then you would have had no other choice but to hide in the back, away from the noise.

But after the creaking of the door, there was no other noise. You raised an eyebrow before lifting your head out of your hands, being met with no one other than Officer Steb.

"Oh, Officer Steb," you sniffed, your voice hoarse and odd-sounding due to your blocked nose, "I nearly forgot the date."

While usually dressed in his Enforcer uniform, he now wore something much more casual. You had never seen him outside of the dark blue and gold - the black and dark green suited him. Without his beret or helmet on, you could also see his hair. You wondered if he used the 'Haircutting for Dummies' book for it all those months ago. According to Steb, the book was not for him. His eyebrows creased as he scanned you, squinting his eyes.

"Yeah, not the best day," you shrugged, wiping your hand on your shirt, "But there is no one else to run the library, so… Me it is."

He quietly stared at you for another moment before gesturing to your notepad again. The sparkly cover held many pages of his handwriting - so many that it might as well have been his. You silently hand it over, your head aching with every move you make.

'Stay here, be right back'.

Steb turned on his heels, walking right down the hall and out the door. You only raised an eyebrow before looking over the stack of books and writing down all the information you needed. After what felt like an eternity, you finally sat back down in your chair, your fingers rubbing at your temples.

The Enforcer came back not long after, a small bag in his left hand. He placed it on the counter - as quietly as he could - which made you look back up.

"You're free."

Steb's voice was so different from what you imagined.

"I-" you frowned, "Excuse me, Officer Steb? I'm not sure what you mean."

"Just Steb is fine," he looked away, "Commander Kiramman has contacted the owner of the library, your boss, and you have permission to leave now."

How had he done that?

Your bag was still packed, resting against the side of the counter, almost jumping in excitement that you got to go home.

"You are sick, yes?"

"I mean… Sadly so, I'm guessing."

He nodded, slowly reaching out to you before slightly raising an eyebrow. You breathed in, nodding as his hand made contact with your forehead. Cold, so cold. Your eyes almost closed at the sensation, the feeling of his cool fingers nice against your burning face.

Sadly, the moment ended all too soon as Steb reached into the small bag, pulling out an assortment of different painkillers and medicine.

"Once a day," he held up one of the packets, "Maximum of three a day, six hours inbetween."

He had gone out to get you medicine? You nearly wanted to start crying, your tired eyes and heavy limbs glad that they would almost be able to rest. Not to mention the bursting and pounding of your heart. Despite feeling horrible, a smile still formed on your face.

"I… Steb, thank you. I can't believe this."

He took your bag off the ground, waiting for you to lock everything up before exiting the library, side by side.

"Thank you again," you said, though it came out not nearly as loud as you thought it would have.

"Have to take care of my favourite librarian," his comment nearly made you fall over, though he would not have let that happen, "I bring you home, you take the medicine, and I see you next week?"

[dainobones]

and so what if is like dinner? so what if it's consumed once and forgotten? if it means something to someone in the moment they read it, isn't that transient experience valuable too?

we only eat each individual meal once. a meal made the same way with the same ingredients won't be the same meal. but each meal is sustenance that keeps people alive and well. even if you didn't like it, even if you forgot it the same day you ate it, that meal had value that was worth the time put into cooking it.

i think fiction is like that. even if we dont think about it much, our hearts and minds need our little stories as sustenance to keep us well.

obviously i'd rather the stories i write be more like people's favourite meal from their favourite restaurant, but it's also wonderful to cook my friends a meal they're gonna forget within a week. and either way i get the joy of sharing something i made.

i'll never remember every story i've ever read (or every story i've written tbh), but even the ones i've forgotten were sustenance that kept my brain engaged and well. so just like there's value to each meal i've eaten, there's value in each story i've read.

The devastating difference between how much time it takes to write something vs how fast people read it lol

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The S1 Bentley is For Sale! 👀

link

from the description :):

Mary is a 1934 Derby Bentley Thrupp & Maberley bodied Coupe. BLE 430 – B 96 BN. Two were made but the other one has not been seen since WW11, so she is unique. She is also the only Bentley in the world to have been blown up twice on screen. She was owned by Speed King Donald Campbell in the early fifties.

I acquired her in 2009, to go with my 1947 Mark VI. Since then the engine has been completely re-built, including a new head and block, with a new clutch put in at the same time. She has also been re-wired, new kingpins, total brake overhaul, new radiator and fuel pump with suspension and one shot lubrication system overhauled. Also had the speedometer and rev.counter serviced in 2018. She runs superbly and has just had her annual service at AB Classics, who specialise in pre-war Bentleys & Rolls Royces. (He also looks after my 1936 25/30 RR ).

She is currently insured for £295,000 and I will be looking for an offer around £265,000.

History

Ordered for Jack Odling in September 1934. One of two 3 ½ lt Coupes made by Thrupp & Maberley. The other one has not been seen for several decades and presumed lost during World War 2. Not much early history but owned by Speed King Donald Campbell in the early 1950’s. We have a photograph of the car at that time being offered for sale, with silver wheel discs. His ownership is acknowledged by all the relevant history available in various publications and agreed with both Bentley Drivers Club & Rolls Royce Enthusiasts Club records. She went through three owners from October 1954 to October 1961. Next piece of history is she was acquired by a Mr Silk of Romford in 1973 and underwent extensive professional restoration up to 1994, with a mechanical overhaul in 1994. She was back on the road in 1998. She was then purchased from P & A Wood by Andrew Smith in August 2001. He kept her until early 2008 when he sold her to Brian Classic as he did not wish to re- wire her. I bought her from Brian Classic in April 2009 with money left to me by my late Mother, Mary. We only just made the 100 miles home with many electrical problems. I am glad to say that Brian Classic eventually made a substantial contribution to the re-wiring by Jeremy Padgett. The following year going into the RREC Concours the heating nearly went into the red so back to Jeremy Padgett to sort out. Result was a complete engine re-build by Ristes, also replaced the radiator core and new clutch plate. Finally back on the road in May 2012. Very expensive period. However, she is now in superb condition, being regularly serviced by AB Classics. More recently the carburettors have been re-built. Following an accident on set in 2017 she was sent to Steve Penny at Penny Vintage to restore the damaged door. Sadly this was one of his last jobs before retiring. What a superb craftsman he is, he made a fabulous job of restoring her. Needless to say she still looks superb. I have owned and enjoyed classic cars since 1969 and Mary must be my ultimate car.

TV & Film work

...

when the call came. Jeremy, I am looking for a 1926 Derby Bentley, preferably black. Can you find me one please. I explained that they were not invented until 1933 and that mine was made in 1934 and is grey and black and has not changed since Endeavour three years earlier. Half an hour later phone goes again, can you bring your car down for production to have a look at in Ealing early next week. Production were delighted with Mary, especially after a bit of a run round Ealing. At this point no-one would tell me what it was all about, apart from the fact that this was “The Big One”. Two days later phone goes again, she is going to be Crowley’s Bentley in “Good Omens” by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. My wife quickly ordered the book and read it. The Bentley was mentioned almost 80 times. Can I please take her to a specialist body maker for her cab to be replicated for studio scenes. Can I find an interior etc. I phoned Hew at The Real Car Company, who was a tremend ous help. A complete set of instruments and a steering wheel duly arrived. Next, I was asked if I could take the car to Wokingham to be copied. Absolutely staggered to discover they wanted the car at Rushton’s Farm, where I lived from 1957 to 1963. Father’s chicken sheds had been converted into industrial units. A half hour drop off turned into four hours, as I took an old photograph album to show the current owners. The farmhouse had been separated from the rest of the farm by this time. A real trip down memory lane for me. Looking for a Derby body, seats etc, Hew recommended talking to Bob Petersen. He was stripping down a Thrupp & Maberley saloon to make one of his famous specials, so that was purchased complete with dash, seats etc so Mary could be well and truly replicated. Even changed the indicator switch so that both were identical. By this time the cast list had leaked out on the Internet. David Tennant and Michael Sheene are the main stars with others being added on a daily basis. I met many people but mainly worked with these two, especially David. He is one of the nicest guys you could ever wish to meet. Very hardworking but happily chats to everyone. I got Mary back from the farm in September, ready to start filming. The first scene was near Marlow for a two day shoot where I started to meet the cast and crew. 

Trying to teach David how to drive Mary was a bit of a struggle. Most people in their forties haven’t a clue about cars without syncromesh on all gears, and David normally drives an automatic! However, Rob, the stunt driver did know how to drive Mary and quickly picked up the fact that the clutch cannot be depressed for any length of time. The main problem with David and Rob changing over was about six inches in height. Don’t think the seat had been moved so much for years, with a gentle application of oil on the runners and avoidance of catching the carpet. During this period Mary used the registration NIATRUC, Curtain spelt backwards (the subject is the end of the world ). The Morris Minor had SID RAT , TARDIS spelt backwards. David was an earlier Dr Who! Being the grandad on set meant that I was well looked after by everyone, who made sure I had Mary in the right place and usually a radio as well. There is a lot of hanging about on set then a burst of activity. Some shots are repeated over a dozen times to get differing angles and eventually sort out which take will be used. Within a few days I was getting the hang of it, meeting the directors, the camera guys, the sound technicians, moving from location to location, usually in or around the M 25 then in central London. Naturally you can watch Good Omens on BBC iplayer and see how much Mary appeared. There are a few pictures of what it is like on set. 

[darkbluekies]

Yo hear me out

Ludwig reaches the age to find a bride. A ball is hosted and women are invited. Darling gets scared and gets flashbacks of her time and doesnt attend.

Here we go again

Yandere!king x fem!reader, yandere!prince, yandere???princess

Summary: it's time for the crown prince to find a wife, but it is more complicated because of his family's disturbing history

Warnings: violence, trauma from earlier ball, mother scared of her own child, conservative views, twisted family

Word count: 1.7k

Read this oneshot to get a better understanding

It’s normal for girls to have one, but Edmund has insisted that Ludwig should have one too. He needs to be put out in society, to find a queen worthy of the Vesanus-house. You doubt any one deserves to be in this house. They deserve so much better. 

All noble families and aristocracy have been invited in hopes of finding a wife for the future king … or what is left of it. You have no desire to join. It all is too similar to that ball — the one where Edmund decided you were going to be his. When many of your family friends died. When many of your personal friends died. The blood bath was a tsunami, and had given you nightmares for months. You have learned to love him. It’s not like you’ve had any other choice but to accept him. 

You can’t see this ball ending in any other way than it did that night.

“Come on, darling”, Edmund says as he walks into the room. “People are asking for you. You have to come now.”

“I’m not going out there”, you reply shortly, feeling panic set in your body. 

You’re not even wearing the right clothes. Dressed in your nightgown, sitting on the bed. You haven’t planned on leaving any time soon. The mere thought of entering the ball room makes your skin crawl. You haven’t been in there since that night. You’re not planning to either. 

“You have to”, Edmund says, walking closer to the bed.

You can’t control it anymore. “No! I’ll never go in there again!””

He stops. He isn’t used to people telling him ‘no’, and you can’t help but feel a bit cocky about it. 

“If you’re not there, people will talk!” Edmund insists. “They’ll talk about you more than of Ludwig and that will defeat the entire point of the ball!”

“I’m not going out there and I’ll take whatever punishment you come up with because I refuse!” you say through gritted teeth, even though you want nothing more than to scream at him. “It’s exactly like that night! I know that something will happen! He’s just like you.”

You hate to admit it, but Ludwig scares you. Your own child scares you. 

Edmund sighs and nods slowly. 

“Okay, I get it”, he says. 

You don’t look at him. 

“I’ll let you stay here”, he says. “You don’t have to come with me. Get some rest, okay, darling?”

You nod shortly.

“I’ll come check on you every now and then”, he says.

“Okay.”

Edmund walks over to you, cups your cheeks and kisses you gently. He gives you a small smile before he walks out and closes the door behind him, returning to the ball. Maybe this is for the better, he thinks. If you’re in the bedroom, no one will be able to put their filthy eyes on you.

“Father!” Ludwig says loudly to be heard over the crowd of laughing people. “Where is she? Where is mother?”

“She’s not feeling well”, he lies to not cause suspicion among the guests. “She’s resting.”

Ludwig scoffs. Resting? During his debutante ball?

“Not on my fucking watch”, he mutters and makes his way out of the ball room. 

He storms down the great corridors, getting further away from the music and laughter. The dark corridors are colder than the heated ballroom. He marshes towards the king’s and queen’s chamber with an anger roaring in his chest. He doesn’t bother knocking as he enters. You look up at him from the bed, a look of shock and confusion. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ludwig spits and stops right in front of you. “Why aren’t you out there celebrating me? This is a gigantic day for me, mother!”

“I know, Ludwig, but I don’t feel well about it”, you mumble uncomfortably and avoid his intensive eyes. 

The same eyes as his father’s. 

“Because father fucked up?” he scoffs and presses his hands to his chest. “How's that my problem? Why can’t you support me?”

Because you’re like him. 

Ludwig knows about that night. He knows everything. Edmund hasn't understood why he should hide it when it's a big part of the family history.

“I’m sorry”, you say. “I have to rest.”

Ludwig doesn’t waste any time, doesn’t hesitate, before he grabs your wrist and yanks you up from the bed. A painful wave shoots through your arm. He’s holding your wrist in a hard, tight grip that is sure to leave behind bruises. He drags you out of the room, out into the big corridor. 

“Ludwig, stop!” you exclaim. 

He doesn’t listen, doesn’t answer, as if he hasn't heard you. You look around for anything to help you. Your eyes land on a maid carrying table cloths. 

“Get the king!” you plead. 

You continue to fight against Ludwig until Edmund storms over. He ran directly from the stood the second the maid reached him.

“Let her go this instant!” he orders. 

And Ludwig does. You fall down on your knees, clutching your hurt hand to your chest. Your entire body is trembling.

“Have you no shame?!” Edmund roars. “Your mother is in a nightgown! Should the entire aristocracy see her in this state, do you think?”

Ludwig’s ears have gone red. It’s extraordinary, you think, how Edmund is the only one that can make him seem human. The only one that can make him feel pure regret and shame. 

“If you can treat your mother like this, how do you expect any of the men in there to have respect for you?” Edmund continues and gestures back towards the way to the ballroom. “Do you think any of them will let any of their daughters marry you? Answer!”

Ludwig seems to struggle to talk. “No, father …”

“Ask your mother for forgiveness.”

Ludwig turns to you. You force yourself to meet his eyes. 

“Forgive me, mother”, he says. 

It sounds weird to hear him ask for forgiveness. You don’t answer him. Your voice have didappeared. Edmund helps you up gently and wraps his arm around you. You can’t help but cry as he starts to lead you back to the chamber. How could your own child be such a monster? Did he inherit nothing from you? Did you fail as a parent? Could you have done more for him?

“It’s okay, my jewel”, Edmund comforts you. “I will punish him. Did he hurt you?”

“No”, you answer. 

You clutch your painful hand tighter to your chest. 

“Good”, Edmund replies. “I will put guards outside your door to make sure that he won’t return.”

He tucks you in and gives you a sorry smile. He burns with anger. That child. 

“Edmund?”

“Yeah?”

“Where’s Victoria?” 

Ludwig storms down the corridor. Fuck everything. Fuck it all. 

He feels something hit him on the leg. He stops. He looks down, then around, but can’t see anything. Another small blow to his leg. He bends down and picks up a small stone. A small smile spreads on his face. 

“Shoot me one more time and I’m taking back the slingshot”, he says. 

“Not fair!” a voice whines from behind one of the heavy drapes by the large window. 

Ludwig walks over to the window and pulls away the heavy, red curtains, revealing a small child sitting on the floor. She giggles up at him. Ludwig crouches down in front of her and knocks on the wooden slingshot. 

“You’re supposed to be asleep by now”, he says. “I thought your governess was supposed to look after you. Where is she?”

“She fell asleep”, Victoria replies and giggles. 

Ludwig scoffs with a smile and picks her up, carrying her on his hip. 

“Alright, let’s go”, he says. “Back to bed.”

“No!” Victoria complains. “I want to dance too.”

“You’re too small. You can dance when you’re older.”

The thought breaks his heart. Reality is, he doesn’t want her to become older. He wants her to stay the little size she is now, innocent and cute. For now, she is the only person that doesn’t dislike him. 

“Have you found a wife yet?” she asks. 

“No, not yet”, he answers. “But the night is young — for me, not for you.”

Victoria hugs her brother's neck and rests her head on his shoulder. 

“I want a debutante ball too”, she mumbles. 

“You will have one, when you're older”, he says. “And I will make sure that no stupid men come to take you. They’ll have to go through a long and hard process with me before I let them come close to you.”

“Will you shoot them with the slingshot?”

“I’m the crown prince, I can do whatever I want.”

He carries Victoria back to the nursery. In the rocking chair, the governess is sleeping with a book in her hand. Ludwig rolls his eyes. He tucks Victoria into her bed and walks over to the rocking chair. He grabs the book out of her hands and hits her on the top of the head. She gasps and shoots up. 

“Hi, good morning”, Ludwig says sarcastically. “Do you know what time it is?”

“N-No, what?” she asks with a raspy, scared voice. 

“Ten. At night. Guess who I just found out in the corridor shooting people who walk by with a slingshot?”

The governess looks around wide eyed, searching for the little girl.

“Do your job before I make father find a new governess”, Ludwig threatens and throws the book in her lap. 

She blushes and apologizes profusely. Ludwig rolls his eyes. 

“Ludwig”, Victoria says from the bed.

“Yes?” Ludwig asks in a softer tone.

“Can you tell me about the ball tomorrow morning?”

“Sure.”

“Will you pick a nice girl? Someone that wants to be my friend?”

Ludwig feels his heart ache. He has friends, some at least — some that have been chosen to be his side when he'sking — but Victoria has none. It's not important. She has her tutors to teach her etiquette. A girl to be married off for connections doesn't need friends. 

“Yes”, he replies quietly. “I will.”

Victoria smiles and hugs her doll, closing her eyes.

Ludwig says goodnight to his little sister and walks out, making his way back to his ball. He will find someone tonight, someone worthy. And if he doesn't, he’ll have these balls until he finds one. 

[puckinghischier]

Quick Study

Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

WARNING: SMUT! minors DNI. 18+. unprotected sex, fingering, oral fem!recieving, oral m!receiving, p in v, smut with the smallest sliver of plot. praise kink if you squint sideways and upside down.

summary: quinn loves to help you experience new things

notes: so…i don’t know what happened i think i blacked out tbh. this is kinda on theme with the request but also kinda not?? more so inexperienced!reader than in innocent!reader. idk my fingers had a mind of their own okay? enjoy 🫶🏼

request: I read a post that headcanons Quinn getting off on teaching you things and how to do things well, and that has just convinced me he has a thing for innocence… feel like that could be a great premise for smut

[4.4k]

Quinn has always been praised for his patience and willingness to teach those around him. It’s likely what landed him his new captain residency, but he likes teaching. He always said if he didn’t make it in the league he’d like to be a teacher and a coach, spreading his knowledge of history and hockey to the next generation.

What he didn’t realize until he met you, though, was how much he really enjoyed teaching.

He loved explaining the game to you, seeing your eagerness to pay attention and learn for him. Watching you glance at the cheat sheet he made you on your phone during games, making sure you’re able to keep up with the various penalties called, has him puffing out his chest a bit.

He loved explaining to you the most recent book he was reading, telling you all about the time period and the historical context of whatever story piqued his interest that week. He’d notice the empty space on the bookshelf after he finishes the book, glancing over to your side of the bed to discover the book with your bookmark tucked neatly between its pages, heart swelling when you’d bring it up over dinner, wanting to learn about his interests.

What he loved the most, though, was figuring out everything he could teach you.

He knew when the two of you first met that you were fairly inexperienced, not having ever really dated much before, but once he realized how inexperienced you really were? His mind went wild with the possibilities.

There was a certain pride he felt in being the person to guide you through all of these new experiences, never rushing you, always making sure you were one hundred percent comfortable before he tried anything new. He encouraged you to ask as many questions as you needed, telling you there’s never any reason to feel embarrassed around him.

He’d note the way you’d sit there and take in every word as he explained the different scenarios and sensations certain actions could elicit from your body, eyes wide and hungry. The second he would open the conversation for any questions or clarifications he could see the nervousness creep in, almost retracting into yourself out of embarrassment.

“I just…I don’t know exactly what you mean. You can…you know…feel that just from your mouth?” you’d ask him, voice barely above a whisper and eyes darting all over the room.

“Oh, darling, I can’t wait for you to experience the amount of things I can make you feel with my mouth,” he would nearly groan out, both angered and thankful that no other guy you’ve ever been with allowed you to experience all that the body has to offer.

Your cheeks would instantly heat, but not out of embarrassment. Quinn could see the gears turning in your head, the slight adjustment of your thighs coming closer together hinting to him how much you’re enjoying the picture painted in your head.

The day you told Quinn you had never experienced an orgasm, though? He was nearly seeing red.

“What do you mean you’ve never ‘gotten there’” he repeated your own words, not realizing the harsh tone of his voice until you looked away from him, watching your face contort into an expression of guilt.

“I- I don’t know. I mean, the couple of times I’ve actually…you know…went there with a guy, it never really happened. I guess I was doing something wrong, I don’t know,” you spoke softly, shrugging meekly.

Quinn took a deep breath, calming himself the way he would on the ice, before scooting closer to you and grabbing your hands. “You could never do anything wrong, you hear me? The fact that the fools you were with before were too sorry to make sure you were taken care of, and apparently didn’t know what the hell foreplay was, is not your fault.”

Nodding slowly, you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth and chewed on it lightly. “I think…I want you to show me,” you said so quietly Quinn thought he imagined it.

“Say that again?” he needed you to clarify, wanting to make sure he’s not just hearing what his dick wants to hear.

You inhale, preparing yourself to put on your brave face and finally find the courage to tell a guy what you want. “I want you to show me. Teach me what it’s like. I want to experience it with you.”

And damn. If that didn’t get Quinn’s dick rock fucking hard. The idea of showing you everything you’ve been missing, everything he knows he can make you feel? He could almost come right here on the couch, never even having to touch your skin.

Quinn didn’t say a word, simply grabbing your hand and prompting you to stand, leading you to the bedroom that was practically shared at this point, considering how often you stayed at his apartment.

He sat you down on the edge of the bed, standing in front of you and looking down at your big, round eyes. He had to remind himself this was about you, and not to get too ahead of himself.

Bringing a hand up to caress your face, brushing away a small strand of hair, he rests his hand on your jaw, thumb brushing over your soft, pink lips. Using the slightest bit of pressure, he wedges his thumb in-between them, causing them to part just enough for him to slip it into your warm and inviting mouth.

He feels your tongue swirl around the tip of his finger, never once breaking eye contact with him. He closes his eyes, the image in front of him overloading his brain. The second you start to suckle on the rough pad of his digit, he jerks his hand back, surprising you.

“Sorry, did I do something wro-“

“No, never,” he interrupts you, voice low and gravely. “But this is about you and I can’t let myself get carried away.”

Opening his eyes, he sees the flush come back to your cheeks, watching the outline of your tongue rolling around in your cheek. “I want to learn,” you look at him with pleading eyes.

“I know, baby, we’re gonna get there, promise,” he assures you, catching your chin between his thumb and index finger.

You shake your head back and forth, “No, I want to learn how to please you.”

Quinn can feel every ounce of blood in his body make its way straight to his already near painful cock. The innocence and eagerness on your face making his knees buckle.

“I’ve never…given a…a blowjob before,” you stuttered, your bashfulness from earlier coming back. “I never felt like I’d do a good job, and I didn’t want to disappoint anyone and scare them away, so I always said no. But I want you to teach me. Please?” you pleaded, using your eyes to convey your willingness.

If there was ever a world record for how fast a man can come without even being touched, Quinn would say he’s a pretty close contender right now.

He clears his throat, trying to choke down the groan that nearly came out. “I- uh. Are you sure?” is all he’s able to sigh out, feeling like an idiot because he can’t even form words.

You nod your head silently, not knowing if you could find the courage to ask again.

“Fuck, baby,” Quinn shudders, swallowing thickly, bringing a hand down to readjust himself in his sweats.

Figuring you need to show some sort of initiative, you bring your hand up to replace his, cupping him over the thin material.

Quinn’s entire body jerks forward at the feeling of your small hand covering him, resting his hands on your shoulders for support.

Your breath catches, not expecting to receive such a reaction from him, but it only encourages you to keep going, squeezing just enough to apply a slight pressure to his length.

Quinn grunts, shuddering at the sensation. “Fuck, Y/N.”

The sound of his voice, a slight whine but still deep and powerful, shoots a bolt of arousal straight between your legs. You start stroking his still clothed shaft, enjoying teasing him.

“Show me what to do, Q,” you whisper seductively, his actions only growing your confidence in your actions.

With his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, he wastes no time in moving your hand and ripping the sweatpants down so roughly his dick literally springs free. He sighs at the lack of constriction, creating a sweet friction with his own hand.

Seeing him bare for the first time, you feel the extra saliva form in your mouth, wanting nothing more than to wrap your lips around him and find out how his skin tastes.

Too lost in the beauty of the man in front of you, you don’t realize he’s gazing down at you, watching how in awe you are of him.

“Babygirl, you can’t look at me like that and expect me to last longer than three seconds once you start touching me,” he snaps you out of your daze, drawing your eyes to his face.

You blush, focusing on the bedroom floor to hide your eyes from him.

Bringing his hand back up to your face, he forces you to look up at him, the intensity of the moment making you squirm.

“Touch me,” he commands, rubbing his thumb back and forth on your chin.

Following his instructions, you grasp him in your hand again, moving your hand gently across the textured skin.

You pump slowly, waiting for Quinn to tell you your next move.

“Shit, faster,” is all he whimpered, moving his hips to meet your motions.

Moving your wrist a little faster, you’re so taken with the sounds he’s making you hardly feel the bruising grip he has on your shoulder, grounding himself to you.

“Quinn, wanna taste you,” you whined, watching the precum leak from his pink tip, tongue darting out to lick your lips in anticipation.

“Okay, just-” he shudders, interrupted by a moan, “just, no teeth. And don’t take too much, hollow your mouth out a bit, and keep using your hand if you need to.”

Belly swirling with nerves and excitement, you position yourself a little farther onto the edge of the bed, face to face with his strained cock.

Taking a deep breathe, you test the waters by placing a chaste kiss on his tip, licking the salty precum off of your lips. Opening your mouth, you take the plunge and follow his instructions, hollowing out your cheeks as your mouth rolls over his length, your tongue feeling the weight of his thickness.

You look up at him as he watches you, waiting for any hint of praise in what you’re doing, wanting to make sure you’re doing it right.

“Shit, just like that, baby, keep going,” he encourages, feeling you stop when his tip tickles the back of your throat.

You will yourself not to gag, enjoying the feeling of your tongue against his cock too much. Trying to combat the feeling, you swirl your tongue around him, feeling every ridge and vein.

Quinn is fighting against every muscle in his body, from wanting to bring his hands to your head and push your mouth further onto him, to wanting to snap his hips forward and bury his dick in your throat.

“Can move a bit if you want,” he hisses out as your tongue runs across his sensitive tip once again. “Doing so good, though. Feels unreal. Don’t know how you’ve never done this before.”

You want to smile, but can’t with your mouth full of him, so you start bobbing your head instead, slow and careful. You bring your hand up to cup his balls, remembering one of your friends telling you guys seem to like that.

Quinn jerks his hips forward at the feeling, not being able to control his actions at that point, dangerously close to blowing his load down your throat.

He removes himself from your mouth, watching the spit trail down your chin. The sight is so pornographic he almost finishes anyways, digging his nails into his palms as a distraction.

“Was-,” you start, wiping the dribble off of your mouth, “was I not doing it right? I remember someone telling me once guys liked when you touched them like that. Did I scrape you with my teeth? Did I-“ your hoarse voice is abruptly cut off by Quinn shoving his hands under your arms and lifting you to your feet.

“You were amazing. Too good. If you would’ve kept doing that for even thirty more seconds I would have come in your mouth, and while the thought drives me insane, there’s only one place I want to come tonight,” he tells you, bringing his hand down to untie your soft pajama pants as he finishes his sentence, fingers ghosting over the exposed skin of your stomach.

You suck in a sharp breathe as he starts rolling the pants down your hips, exposing your simple, cotton underwear.

“Well, if I knew this is what we were doing tonight I would’ve dressed more appropriately,” you said softly, wanting nothing more than to bring your arms down to cover the exposed skin.

Quinn chuckles. “You could be wearing a diaper for all I care. I’d still be rock hard at the sight of you like this.”

“Weird, but sweet?” you respond, trying to break up the intensity you feel as you kick the bottoms off of your feet.

Amused smile on his face, Quinn shakes his head at you, toying with the hem of your shirt.

“Can I?” he asks, tugging at the thin material.

You shake your head yes, knowing there’s no going back after this moment.

“Words, babydoll, ‘member?” he mumbles, staring at your taut nipples through the shirt.

“Yes. To everything. I trust you,” you breathe out.

Quinn’s heart jumps to his throat, surprised at how excited the confession makes him. Knowing he has your complete and total trust with something as important as this adds a whole new level to what he’s about to experience with you.

The shirt is over your head before you can think twice, standing almost bare in front of him.

“Shit baby, knew you were stunning,” he starts but pauses, letting his eyes rake over every inch of exposed skin. “but think you were painted just for me,” he worships your body, trailing his fingers over the dips in your collar bones in awe, watching the goosebumps rise in their wake.

“Your turn,” you whisper, feeling the flush on your cheeks, not wanting to be the only one on display.

Not being able to take his eyes off of the smooth skin of your body, he removes the rest of his clothing before you can even blink, staring at the toned man standing in front of you.

Of course you’ve seen him shirtless before, considering he never likes to wear a shirt to bed, and having spent a weekend at his lake home a few months ago. But to see him completely naked before you is a sight you never want to forget.

Breaking the stare you both hold on each other, he moves your body to lay down on the bed, guiding you to move further up the bed as he crawls over you, stopping when your head rests on one of the million pillows.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” he pants from above you, bringing his mouth down to place wet kisses along your neck.

You inhale deeply, the feeling lighting all of your nerves on fire.

Too distracted by the feeling of his tongue darting out to swirl along your skin, you don’t notice his hand has made its way to the band of your underwear, slipping a finger just under the barrier.

“Off, take them off,” you pant out, wanting the fabric gone.

“Yes, ma’am,” he obeys, sliding the material off of your body in record time.

Quinn forgot everything he was supposed to be doing when he saw you bare before him. He could practically smell your arousal, watching your pussy glisten in the low light of the bedroom.

“Bet you taste so good, hmm?” he rasped out, sounding like a man starved.

Squirming, your body fights to find some sort of friction to ease the ache between your legs, never having felt so turned on before.

“What do I need to do? Tell me what to do, Quinny,” you whimper, wanting to know what you’re supposed to be doing, desperate for relief.

Your desperation makes his cock throb, having forgot how hard he was, too distracted by you. But to watch you writhe and whine and look to him for guidance makes him painfully aware of how much this is all affecting him.

“Absolutely nothing. Now it’s my turn to make you feel good, darling,” he all but pants, licking his lips like he’s about to eat a five-star meal.

He moves his body down yours, shamelessly dragging his lips down your warm skin, taking his time and savoring every inch.

Once he reaches your soaking cunt, he teases you with hot breaths, wanting to admire every fold and crevice before exploring you with his mouth.

Placing small kisses on both thighs, letting his scruff scratch the sensitive skin, he finally lets his mouth find your core.

Licking a clean stripe up from your hole to your clit, he grips onto your legs, baffled by how good you taste on his tongue. He dives in like he’s never known such a luxury, slurping and sucking every inch of your perfect pussy.

You’ve never felt anything like this before, the pleasure overwhelming. You don’t know what to do with yourself, feeling like you’re flailing your limbs all over the place. Moaning and grunting, Quinn can sense your frustration with not knowing how to express your pleasure.

“Touch my hair. Pull it, tug it, hold on to it. Whatever you need to do. Just touch me,” he instructs you, the vibration of his words on your clit causing you to cry out, tangling both hands into his soft hair.

Quinn groans at the delicious pull on his scalp as you use his hair as your outlet, feeling his dick brush against the comforter as it twitches. He starts to grind against the mattress, not enough to push him over the edge, but enough to provide him with temporary relief.

He continues his assault on your dripping core, not caring if he were to drown in your arousal, loving how it practically leaks out of you, not wasting a single drop.

Once he feels you’re ready, he brings a finger up, slipping it inside of you and feeling your walls instantly clench around him. The sensation only drives him further, burying his nose deeper into you, if that was even possible.

Pumping his finger in and out of you slowly, he adds a second, ensuring you’re ready for him in the minutes yet to come.

Arching your back at the fullness of two of his long, thick fingers, you carry out a particularly rough tug of his hair, earning a moan so loud you want to do whatever you can to hear it again.

“Feel so good, Q. Never – ah! – knew I could feel like this,” you groaned, digging your heels into the bare skin of his shoulders.

“C’mon, know you’re almost there. Gotta let go f’me,” he grunts against you, feeling the flutter of your walls around him.

The unfamiliar pit in your stomach grows at his voice, never wanting him to stop talking to you.

“Oh, like that, huh? Like when I talk to you, pretty girl? Like when I use my voice while pressed up against your pussy?” Quinn asks you, feeling how you clenched when he spoke.

His vulgarness made the ball of pleasure grow even larger, threatening to pop at any moment.

Quinn hummed against your clit, wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud, inhaling just enough to create a small vacuum of suction.

The new feeling caused something inside of you to explode, a pleasure burning throughout your whole body so intense you think you lose your hearing for a few moments.

Quinn rides you through your orgasm, licking and sucking every drop of physical pleasure from your body. When he removes his mouth from you, you’re laying limp under him, the look of bliss on your face sparking a feeling of pride within him.

You have no clue what just happened to your body, not registering a single thing until you felt Quinn’s fingers running through your damp hair, fluttering your heavy lids open.

“There she is. Thought you went and fell asleep on me,” he chuckles, caressing your bright red cheek.

“mmmm” you hummed out. “Think I can taste colors. What did you just do to me?” you ask him, starting to gain control over your body again.

Quinn full on laughs at you, hiding his face in his bicep. “I think that’s the nicest thing a woman has ever said to me,” he marvels down at your state, knowing he was the first man to ever make you feel like this.

You’re trying to think of a clever or sexy response, but get distracted by something poking your leg. Looking down, you notice how hard and red Quinn’s dick is, remembering that he never finished earlier when you had him in your mouth.

“Oh!” you say in surprise, drawing attention to his…situation.

“What can I say? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed,” he references your intense release.

You bite your lip, almost embarrassed. “Well, I can think of something hotter,” you say quietly, reaching your hand down to grab his length.

Quinn gasps as the contact, the most sensitive he thinks he’s ever been.

“Now I want to watch you,” you can recognize the sound of your voice, not knowing what having an orgasm did to you.

Crashing his mouth onto yours, the first time he’s kissed you all night, your grips falls from his shaft, bringing your hands up to pull his shoulders closer to your body. The friction of his skin on your hard nipples alone is about to drive you over the edge again.

“Gonna wreck you, you know that? Wreck you like you’ve wrecked me,” Quinn says on your lips, bringing your bottom lip between his teeth before letting it snap back into place.

You don’t know where the sudden rush and roughness came from, but you can’t say you’re disappointed. Something within him snapped hearing you express wanting to watch him come undone under your influence, and Quinn can’t control himself anymore.

“Show me, Q. Show me what I’ve missed all this time,” your mouth is operating on a mind of its own, not sure what part of your brain has been unlocked by Quinn’s magical mouth.

Quinn growls, hiking your leg up to rest around his waist, leaving the other flat on the bed, standing on his knees as he brings his hand to line himself up with your still dripping cunt, causing your hands to fall from his body. His own hand finds one of your full breasts, toying with the nipple, causing a sharp gasp to fall from your lips.

“Ready?” his voice goes soft for a second, wanting to make sure you’re still good.

“Please,” you whine in response, shaking your head yes.

As he slowly sinks himself into you, he realizes that he’s found his new favorite place. Buried deep inside of your heat, the warm squeeze against his rigid cock, is what he was put on this earth to enjoy, he thinks to himself.

Your whimpers are the perfect soundtrack as he slides himself in and out of your slick, worried he’ll slip right out if he pulls out too much. The ease with which he glides through convinces him you were made for him. Every inch of you, made to be ruined by him.

“Tell me how to move,” you moan out. “Tell me how to make this – shit! – better for you. Teach me.”

Just like before, hearing you whine and beg for him to teach you, wanting to learn from him, has him losing all of his resolve. He completely slips himself out of you, slamming back into you with such force it takes your breathe away.

Hearing your gasp, Quinn brings his hand down, pressing on your lower belly to intensify the feeling of how deep he is inside of you right now.

“You’re perfect. Doing so good f’me. Best little student ever, know exactly what to do without even being told,” Quinn praises you, causing your brain to short circuit.

“Just wanna make you feel good, Q. Don’t wanna take all the fun for myself,” you respond to him, bringing your arms back up to the skin of his broad shoulders, raking your nails down the clammy skin, not realizing the burn of your nails down his back is the final string for Quinn.

He cries out, not wanting to come before you, but he’s so close he doesn’t think he can hold out any longer.

Mustering all the resolve he has left, he removes his hand from your belly, bringing it down to circle your clit, pinching it every so lightly.

He feels it the second you reach your second release tonight, the squeeze of your walls as they clench around him making it impossible for him to pull out, triggering his own orgasm to leave his body and leak into you in spurts.

His body shakes from the sensation, letting out some of the most pornographic noises even he’s ever heard. And he was once a teenage boy with unlimited access to the internet.

The two of you come down from your highs together, Quinn’s hand letting your leg fall back down onto the bed, and slowly removing his softening cock from you, both of you whining at the loss of contact.

He flops down next to you, needing a moment to recover before he made any move to clean either of you up.

“So…that’s what I’ve missed out on for all these years?” you asked out loud through shallow breaths, not even turning your head to look at Quinn.

Quinn managed a small laugh, replying with a small “Told you it was them, not you.”

You turned on your side to finally look at your sexed out boyfriend, admiring the way his hair was damp with sweat and his lip was swollen and red from biting it out of pleasure.

“Well…I don’t think I quite grasped the concept. I think we need to do it again,” you proposed. “You know, for study purposes,” you shrugged.

And Quinn knew you were (mostly) joking, but he’ll be damned if his dick wasn’t already half hard again, not knowing what he was going to do with you now. A monster of his own creation.