#just former catholic school girl things

[moonlit-femme]

I should to be worshipped like a goddess…

There should be people so devoted to my existence that they would be willing to give themselves up for me mind body and soul. Singing my praises for how good I am to them as I fuck them silly. They should feel like they have to earn my attention and respect. And when they do earn it, they will never be the same. Changed and reborn from my touch.

Worship me. Adore me. Deitfy me.

[rappaccini]

semi-disorganized thoughts on the politics of gwen stacy, as they relate to race and privilege.

alright i've had this thing in the drafts for a minute, and i just want it Out There.

in general when it comes to the major female characters in peter's life, there's room to play around with their interpretations and race.

cindy moon has to be korean and glory grant has to be black because it's written into their characters

mj and betty can be anything, and have been racebent with great success.

felicia hardy can be a lot of things, but some should probably be avoided because if you write it wrong it could turn out offensive.

liz allan has been racebent... but she honestly works better as a white woman given how her character represents the waspy background peter initially wants to enter (mcu liz allan's a weird one, given the vulture twist. since homecoming borrows so much from miles, and tiana toomes was likely inspired by her, mcu liz reads like more of a first draft of tiana than a liz depiction).

gwen... hasn't really been racebent anywhere (unless you count gabi/gabriel o'hara and gayatri singh). and that follows, because she falls more in line with liz allan; this is a character whose whiteness-- or at least, her access to institutional privilege and status as part of that subset of women within society that are considered desirable, protectable and worthy of putting on a pedestal-- is very important.

this is too disorganized to write into like. a proper essay. so have some bulletpoints.

her background:

little is known about gwen-616's family background, apart from that she has relatives on her father's side who live in london (but it's not clear if they're literally british or they're just expats), and her mom's from a german background.

(spiderverse spider-gwen is specifically irish-american)

she had a christian, most likely catholic, background.

gwen-617's father was a cop who met her musician mother at a peace protest, and gwen-65's father is specifically a former street gang member who, like 617, met gwen's artistic mother during a conflict with the police. he helped her police captain father resolve the situation. soon after they became a couple, and he became a cop. so spider-gwen's dad is specifically part of that phenomenon of poor men becoming cops to raise their economic status, and gwen in general is usually the product of a family where law enforcement is considered a tradition (and so is marrying law enforcement; her mother and grandmother both did it).

she isn't generationally wealthy or new-rich. her family is comfortably middle- to upper-middle-class and achieved that status before gwen was born. she grew up without having to worry about money-- with the exception of tuition.

when gwen's mother dies (in 616 it's an unspecified illness; in 65, who knows), there's no mention of medical debt. so the family could afford it, or whatever helen had, they were lucky that it didn't wipe out the family finances.

gwen and her father live in a nice but not luxurious apartment. (and spider-gwen lives in a dated two-story house in peter's middle-class forest hills suburb)

gwen went to standard high, a prestigious prep school where she was classmates with the children of the city's best architects, physicians, business owners and billionaires. since her household's single-income (even before helen stacy died, she was a housewife), and they don't have any generational wealth, she would've had to have been on a scholarship to afford that tuition.

at that school, she's a popular honors student who wins class president, is best friends with the richest boy at school, dates the star quarterback, and laps up all the fancy college scholarships. and when she arrives at college, she leads a group of kids in freezing peter out like a high school mean girl, because he isn't giving her enough attention. so even though gwen wasn't rich, she was comfortably at the top of the high school hierarchy, and maybe even a bit of a bully. to say the quiet part out loud, if gwen had been a woc, everybody would've been giving her shit for needing a scholarship to afford to attend and she would never have gotten that level of acceptance.

she's a scholarship student (again!) at empire state university, where she's a top student in a stem major.

however-- that empire state scholarship isn't framed as a make-it-or-break-it achievement. when gwen's chasing it in high school, she doesn't say she can't enroll if she doesn't get it. so most likely, she could still afford college; she'd have just had a shitload of loans.

(gwen-65 goes to peter's public high school. she gets a scholarship to empire state too, but that's strictly a bullshit handwave of ~your superhero connection got you this made-up scholarship for interdimensional exchange students so you can go here~ that means nothing. for all intents and purposes she's a dropout.)

gwen stacy isn't a wasp, but she's white, anglo-saxon (or irish) and christian, so she's close enough to it to rub elbows with them. she isn't rich, but she knows how to fit in with rich people, and rich people let her get away with it. and she's one strategic marriage or career move away from getting into that social circle.

... her name literally means "white" in welsh.

her appearance:

the one trait that stays consistent throughout all her depictions, moreso than her personality or family background-- and the one trait a lot of men people bother to remember about her-- is that she's a blonde. and blondeness tends to be associated largely with whiteness.

gwen's largely regarded as the 'nice, tame good girl' ... even though in canon, she's a night owl who has a vicious temper, goes out partying often, juggles multiple suitors and is sexually forward. people keep fucking forgetting all that, because something about the way gwen looks makes people keep defaulting to 'innocent.' -- it's that she's a blonde (specifically, a blonde being juxtaposed with a fiery redhead), and people are applying stereotypes about blonde girls being uptight and delicate to gwen.

gwen's a beauty queen. what kind of physical attractiveness do beauty pageants tend to reward?

even the gwens who aren't beauty queens are still regarded as extremely attractive. including spider-gwen, who puts no effort into her appearance, keeps finding herself the target of romantic and sexual attention. this girl is consistently at the top of whatever her society's beauty standard hierarchy is. (and we know that standard more often than not tends to center whiteness.)

spider-gwen's costume? white.

her politics:

gwen's father is vaguely on the left (if he weren't, sam bullit gloating about how captain stacy's daughter endorsing him is an ultraown to the libs wouldn't make sense), but she's... not.

rich boys and men in uniform -- soldiers, cops, football players, (unknowingly, superheroes) -- are the type of guy she prefers to pursue romantically (... likely taking cues from her mother and grandmother, who both married cops). flash thompson goes to fucking vietnam and she thinks it's such a turn-on that she slips him some tongue at the airport right in front of her boyfriend.

she's annoyed and unsympathetic when vietnam war protesters disrupt her education. i don't know if gwen's just that serious about her education or if she genuinely thinks the war's okay, but it's not looking good!

she earnestly participates in her local elections-- and though she ultimately votes and campaigns for the progressive, she does seriously consider publicly endorsing the racist republican with fascist leanings.

she dislikes vigilantes and trusts the police.

she uses "my dad's a cop" as an excuse to get out of being punished and a threat to people she dislikes.

gwen's most prominent relationship was with peter, but she was going out with harry and flash casually at the same time and had dated plenty of guys in high school; she's by no means a blushing virgin who's loyal to Only One Man. gwen has options, and she pursues them.

she and peter had an implicitly sexual relationship, and she and darius leclerc were at least hitting second or third base, so gwen's cool with premarital sex. she consumes porn and even likes messing around in public (fooling around with darius at the public library; even asking peter if he wants to go to an adult theater to watch dirty movies).

gwen references betty friedan and the women's lib movement, and she's a female stem major in the 1960s, so she's a feminist and probably had no intentions of being a housewife... but her feminism starts and ends with herself.

even gwen-1610, the counterculture rocker chick who hates cops, jocks and bullies, and has casual sex, has this personality largely as a response towards her mother leaving her family. it's not that she's political or liberated, it's that she's raging against her parents and acting out to get a reaction. she hasn't applied her sense of disenfranchisement to anyone beyond herself. she's that kind of white punk.

the default gwen stacy is a white feminist who believes in and supports institutional power because she's always benefited from it, occasionally balks against it but only when it affects her, and she's naive at best and indifferent at worst to the ways it could hurt marginalized people -- specifically black people.

the elephant in the room

(... walk with me: given that the stacys get up close and personal with "spider-man" when hobie brown is wearing the costume to help peter throw off suspicion that it's him, and the textually racist sam bullit, a former cop, considers him public enemy #1 in the same issue where his blatantly racist policies are raised... there's a non-zero chance that the police-- including gwen's dad-- during the early 70s, think spider-man is a black guy and that assumption of his race is a contributing factor to their distrust of him. and gwen... agrees.)

look gwen-616 isn't beating the allegations. she was on the fence about voting for a racist cop, she backs the blue, she hates protests, she hates a vigilante that she has good reason to believe is a black guy. the way she's simply... never around randy robertson unless she's with peter, and surrounds herself with only white friends, is also telling too. it's all adding up to gwen being racist.

and the more that modern writers try to slap a band-aid over og gwen's issues with black people, the more visible they get.

gwen-616's relationship with her high school sweetheart darius and earth-8's alternate spider-gwen marrying a miles morales paint a very clear picture that gwen, in her default state, is the kind of white girl who would date or marry a black guy... but only the kind of black guy who's disconnected from his community and assimilating into greater white society to access wealth and power (miles-8, who mysteriously left his family, friends and world forever to live on a world where he's rich and famous), or who has already done this (darius, big man on campus at the rich kid school and son of multimillionaires), and she will make no effort to understand his perspective and stick up for him and his community.

in the case of darius, gwen-616's investigation into a crime lord gets darius's dad into a situation that gets him killed, apologizes for failing him... and proceeds to stan for a racist republican two years later. retconning a romance with darius into her story means gwen learned nothing from that experience and her apology wasn't sincere.

gwen-8 in particular is the kind of white woman who'd marry a black man and have children with him... and make no effort to make sure their biracial kids are connected to the black community they're a part of. (miles's people are nowhere to be found on earth-8-- no presence, no mention, no photos on the wall, nothing. but gwen's half-black kids have photos with their white cop grandpa. that says a lot. and the fact that miles-8 doesn't even seem connected to his community suggests that quality made him even more appealing to gwen-8.)

even spiderverse spider-gwen represents this to her miles, whose interest in her is directly tied to his desire to ditch his dimension for the spider-society, and to leave brooklyn for princeton; atsv miles wants to pull a miles-8.

-> she unintentionally leads him into a situation where he comes under attack for reasons that are racially-coded by her peer group and she doesn't stick up for him. yes, she realizes she made a mistake and resolves to make it up to him, acknowledges that miles's community is important to him, that she has no right to remove him from them, and vows to help him protect them (which is more than gwen-616 ever does for darius or gwen-8 does for her miles)... but he still sees her as that easy way up the social ladder.

-> and gwen returns the favor. she prefers a heteronormative romance with the middle-class straight boy with a nice family who's bound for an ivy league and a bright future, who she barely knows, over the poor queer homeless punk boy who she has a stronger connection with. assimilation into a society (not even hers; any will do) ultimately matters more to her than the actual depth of the relationship. rio and jeff were right to doubt gwen's intentions, because they weren't sincere; deep down, gwen isn't here for miles, she's here for the stable family, accepting community and bright future he has and she thinks if she's his girlfriend, she can obtain those things by association.

-> which, in context: spiderverse spider-gwen's spent six-ish months as a homeless queer runaway who thinks she'll die a violent death at a young age. it follows that she'd badly want a stable situation, and be willing to throw herself at a boy to get it. her motive isn't climbing the social ladder, it's avoiding being shaken off of it. like with comics-spider-gwen, when spiderverse gwen feels adrift and in need of belonging, she goes looking for a romantic relationship with a straight boy who's palatable to society as a survival strategy. she's not desperately in love, she's desperately comphetting.

-> the narrative framing that romance as "look at how different and brave and boundary-breaking we're being!" even though it's fundamentally not, as this is still ultimately the male lead getting a romance plot with the female character who was only placed in the movies to be his future girlfriend, (especially in comparison to what she could have with hobie) positions spiderverse-gwen as... the kind of white girl who rebels against her conservative parents and the status quo she hates by getting a black boyfriend instead of addressing the actual societal problems that are harming her.

especially when you consider miguel is symbolically her foster father (his design and george stacy's are very similar, he has a dead daughter whose name starts with a g, he intervenes in gwen and george's confrontation right as george makes a move to disown her, he's introduced alongside jess, who gwen asks to 'adopt her' and who serves as her mother figure). gwen bringing miles to the society reads like a white girl bringing her black boyfriend home to piss off her conservative dad. and gwen goes looking for miles to further rebel against him.

-> to be fair, gwen's willing to show up for her black boyfriend and his community, which is more than what most of those girls do. and atsv makes a point of showing that gwen seeks a mentor in jess drew and friends in hobie and pav-- they're establishing that gwen is simply the kind of white girl who's drawn to people of color, black people especially, even when romance isn't on the table.

-> but she's still ultimately using miles as a band-aid over insecurities he cannot help her with, she still aims to assimilate into the system instead of finding a way to escape it, and she still won't be an ally until she thinks she can get a boyfriend out of it.

(... can we please unpack how spiderverse gwen has been spending every day with jessica drew and especially spider-punk for months... and yet a couple hours with miles, and the idea that maybe she can date him if she shapes up a little, are what radicalize her in the end? okay babe. i see.)

which makes (comics-)gwen-65's subtextual interest in hobie brown and glory grant, who are queer black punks, all the more interesting; the gwen stacy who's a fully-actualized hero is drawn to people of color as well, and to queer black love interests who won't conform, and not-so-coincidentally learns all on her own to look out for their interests without any expectation of a romantic reward for doing so. her love interests don't lead her to activism, her activism leads her towards her love interests.

-> and as comics-spider-gwen starts to regress in her progress, her romantic interests have switched to harry-and-em jay, and then just em jay. (or that she's probably about to be paired up with miles, the guy who ends up with her supposedly-future-self, gwen-8, who takes far more after gwen-616 in her treatment of black characters. in other words, being with miles will make gwen regress into a much crappier person... because she's using him to get that same comphet security as spiderverse gwen.). not a coincidence.

her status in the narrative (to others)

gwen's role in peter's love interest hierarchy is similar to liz allan's: both are part of love triangles peter faces where he has to choose between an aspirational girlfriend who can give him what he wants materially but doesn't bring out the best in him (gwen and liz) and a girlfriend who cannot give him a gain in status but is in tune with his emotions (mj and betty).

-> in high school, peter (who's strapped for cash and starts his origin story as far more selfish, sexist and profit-driven) is drawn to liz's beauty and wealth, but ends up being pulled towards betty, who is working-class.

-> in college, peter is drawn to gwen's beauty, her stable future as a scientist, and a relationship with her means being accepted by her police chief father (... and therefore, spider-man being accepted by the law enforcement of the city at large)-- or mj, the unpredictable girl who juggles a half dozen jobs to chase a creative passion, and comes from a middle-class background just like his.

-> a relationship with gwen, through her social position, represents entrance into upper-middle-class prosperity, stable white-collar employment, and acceptance into the class that the status quo (the legal system and the cops) will protect. who are the people who tend to occupy this position in society. who do the cops protect. white people.

her role in the spider-man canon as the tragic helpless victimized love interest who's deified after her death... but whose death is never meaningfully prevented from happening again. (how many murdered girls are turned into symbols after their death, as the actual causes of their murders remain unaddressed? what do those girls tend to look like?)

this status relies on her whiteness. if gwen stacy were not a pretty blonde white girl, her murder would've been forgotten quickly because it wouldn't have been considered shocking or tragic, or worthy of obsessing over for decades.

and she wouldn't have been peter's love interest-- or even in the story at all-- if she were not white, because she was created in 1965.

spider-gwen, whose existence is a response to and condemnation of gwen stacy's fridging and reduction to the status of dead girlfriend on a pedestal, would never have been created in the first place if gwen weren't white.

if gwen hadn't been white, miles would never have been shipped with her in the first place because 1) spider-gwen wouldn't have existed. and 2) even if she did somehow, brian michael bendis loves swirl ships. he'd have passed right over her if she weren't white.

and gwen's importance in the spider-man canon [which she only has because she's white] is the entire reason comics miles is interested in her. he's literally told by the universe that the world where he gets the greatest institutional power and acceptance is the world where he has a blonde, blue-eyed white wife with a famous name and some not-so-coincidentally blonde, blue-eyed ambiguous-looking kids.

spiderverse miles is first attracted to her because he feels alone after leaving his community for the first time, and she makes him feel like he belongs at the visions, where he [and the audience] assume she's top of the social hierarchy; the same thing happens again at the spider-society, and both are part of atsv's greater metaphor about how those places are representative of a white-centric society. if gwen were not a white girl, the metaphor would instantly change.

miles likes gwen for multiple reasons (mostly that she's pretty and has powers, and spiderverse miles at least admires her intelligence and competence and enjoys her company), but given that he barely spent any time with her, the biggest one that nobody talks about is that she's a white girl, and he thinks he can speedrun his way to the status and acceptance he wants through a relationship with her. that's remained consistent between the comics and animated movies. the connection is literally skin-deep.

and out of universe... look, there's a reason that gwen and miles keep getting shipbait covers even when they had one regrettable makeout session eight years ago, have never actually dated, are interested in other people, and miles in particular largely dates nonwhite girls. there's a reason that the idea of gwiles has gotten more marketing than the reality of the relationship with a black girl that miles has been in for years. there's a reason editorial won't stop pushing gwen as a love interest, and won't even bother to try with tiana, and that's because they've already decided that the black girl isn't a commercial enough love interest for a mass audience, the white girl is... and that dating her will make miles more marketable too (... because aside from giving people a self-insert, if he has a white girlfriend, his stories will still center white people, and he'll have to prioritize their feelings). no surprise whatsoever that the first time miles made it to the movies, the white writers gave him a white love interest.

gwen's whiteness is the thing that gwiles stans like the most about her. putting aside how most of them have no clue who gwen is on her own and don't even know what her personality's like because her appearance is the most important thing to them, just watch how they talk about miles's other girlfriends and try to count the racist and sexist microaggressions.

and look at the way gwiles stans either completely ignore miles's blackness and how it informs his character or their relationship... or insist that white-ass gwen stacy would somehow speak perfect puerto rican spanish, be able to do miles's hair, and seamlessly fit into his community with no misunderstandings or friction. even spiderverse fans ignore their movie's own canon actually addressing those issues.

either they want the aesthetic image of an interracial relationship without any engagement with the actual challenges of being in an interracial relationship, or they want miles to date a blonde blue-eyed white girl who behaves like an afrolatina girl. okay. i see.

… even look at the way gwemj shippers blatantly ignore that em jay is already in a relationship with glory grant, or that gwen had a crush on her too. not a coincidence that the white f/f ship is getting favored over the interracial ones.

her overall plotline

is that of a privileged white woman who has faith in the system, slowly being failed by it until it kills her.

she's a star student studying to be a scientist, but she's consistently only valued by all her friends for her looks. the reason her boyfriend noticed her in the first place is because she's pretty, and she's valued more for her appearance and politeness than her scientific aptitude or her status as peter's intellectual equal; the only time we ever see her on page is when she's socializing, instead of in the lab. her father cares more about who she's dating than how her grades are. even her professor turns out to be only giving gwen special attention because he wants to fuck her, and he's so obsessed with her that he keeps cloning her after her death for that reason.

she trusts the cops to protect her, but they consistently don't.

she reaches out to a politician who's her dad's old police force friend for protection, but realizes he's only using her.

she trusts her boyfriend to be honest with her, but he never has been since the day they met. she believes she's in control of her relationship with him, but she never was.

her father, both the chief of police and the literal patriarch of her family, dies and leaves her completely alone.

she's ultimately murdered by her friend's dad*, and is put in a position to be murdered because her boyfriend won't be honest with her about the danger he's putting her in yet won't let her go when she makes it clear that she wants out of that situation bad enough to flee the country.

her murder itself strips her of all agency: she's so drugged she has no idea she's even being killed, and all retcons about how awake she was are more about her ~realizing her boyfriend was a hero~ than realizing she's about to die or that she's been lied to by said boyfriend.

*and depending on if you retcon a certain hated plotline or not, gwen's murderer, a wealthy and powerful middle-aged man who is her close friend's dad, may have coerced her, a teenager, into sex (which may have been her first time) and impregnated her. and her murder may in part be a coverup for that crime. look sins past was retconned because its the Fucking Worst, but this is how canon treats her and there are still fans and writers who hold a plotline that is so clearly a sexual assault against her.

(and then her murderer... never really gets punished for it. norman isn't killed, doesn't go to jail, even gets a redemption arc or two. and peter's off making out with her best friend a few issues later, never tries particularly hard to bring gwen back when dozens of other people are resurrected all the time, and whenever she's cloned, it's agreed that those clones don't count and aren't worth preserving. there is no justice for gwen's murder and everyone agrees that we don't need to bring her back anyway but we sure as hell will obsess over how tragic her death is. they like her better dead because if she's alive, they don't have full control over her anymore.)

she's failed by everyone and everything she trusts and cares about. specifically all the white men. her male friends, her boyfriend, her teacher, her father, his coworkers at the police station, her friend's father.

(... and the only people who have not failed her, and have even stuck up for or supported her are mj, sally green, aunt may, hobie brown, and darius leclerc. women and people of color.)

and maybe most importantly: she never gets an opportunity to process any of this or make a choice about it. because she's dead. and every time she's resurrected, it's only to fluff the ego of the guy who got her killed before being quickly killed off again. it's been like this for fifty years and it just doesn't stop.

-> gwen 6160, a version of gwen who gets to grow up to full adulthood and does so without spider-man triggering the collapse of the system around her-- and therefore, gwen still believes in it-- even goes so far as to become co-ceo of oscorp, and marry harry osborn-- a white billionaire who literally has the leader of their totalitarian oligarchal society on call. she has her doubts about the way things are and wants the system to change, but believes she specifically is superior enough to solve things with no consultation or oversight. this character's being primed to either have that arrogance lead to her death or a descent into supervillainy.

-> even spider-gwen has to unlearn her specifically white feminist politics. she needs to have the concept of gentrification being bad explained to her. she initially behaves like a rogue cop and her killing of peter parker is framed as an act of police brutality. the entire point of her initial comics run is gwen realizing that the police, the legal system, the media and society are corrupt and that she has to change her mindset if she's going to be a worthy protector of her city. she has to unlearn girlboss feminism, does so by listening to people of color, and refuses to take advantage of her privilege even when not doing so could get her killed-- when she's incarcerated, she receives a reduced sentence in part because of the optics of a girl with a 'good background' being locked up and she's offered a fully commuted sentence in exchange for becoming a government agent. which she refuses. the origin story of spider-gwen is all about radicalization. i can't get over how smart her creator was for doing that.

-> and as spider-gwen has since regressed back into white feminism, to the point where she's been explicitly called a "girlboss" on-panel, she starts palling around with her dimension's cops again and has not-so-coincidentally begun favoring only her white friends-- first harry and em jay, then only em jay (who she starts to have romantic tension with... even though em jay is already in a relationship with a black girl). and now she's abandoning the world she spent years learning to be a better ally to entirely for an easier one where she has fewer responsibilities and is in closer proximity to the important men who treat her like a romantic object.

the missed potential of gwen stacy's plotline all boils down to lack of agency. she needs to live so she can realize how she's been failed, and decide what to do about it.

if she concludes that the system is bad for her and stands up against it, she stands a chance at breaking the cycle, surviving and becoming a hero, like ghost-spider.

if she doubles down on supporting it, it will corrupt her into a villain.... and probably kill her once she's not useful to it alive anymore.

to bring the subject of this ramble home: the payoff we're waiting for in gwen's narrative is about how a white woman responds to realizing the system she's been raised to trust and uphold is corrupt and broken. you have to reckon with your privilege, how you've been lied to, how the power you thought you had doesn't actually exist, how your special position near the top of the hierarchy has nothing to do with how special you are and everything to do with keeping you close so the people with actual power can use you to replicate the system through another generation, the authority figures in your life are actually useless or harmful and the people you've been taught to fear and push away are actually more like you than the more powerful people you want to identify with. and then you choose to help undo that system to liberate yourself and the other people it's hurting... or you keep believing the lie because you'd rather keep the few privileges it does allow you, become complicit in its continuation and it still eats you up when it's done using you.

spider-gwen already passed this test and become a hero (but may fail it if she ends up with miles). gwen-6160 has failed and become villainous. gwen-616 has never gotten to take it, so her fate's still up in the air.

anyway politically speaking, from right to left, the main gwens go: 6160/hickman ultimate (knowingly complicit in the shadiest shit), 616/original (wobbling on the fence until she loses her balance and gets impaled by it), 1610/bendis ultimate (edgelord who occasionally stumbles onto the right idea), 65b/spiderverse (she's a little confused but she's got the spirit. dump miles and you've got it.), 65a/spider-gwen (the actual radical, pre-spiderverse synergy).

[skyblueartt]

Original story idea ramblinggg about ideassss!

So for a few years I’ve had this vague story idea in my head, about a demon girl (Lola) who is Satan’s oldest daughter, right— and the times comes for Satan himself to sorta retire from his position as ‘ruler of hell’. And Lola is next in line for the throne!! But one small problem, she’d rather DIE than take that role. She’s a demon and can’t die, but damn dude, stillll! She’s very very veryyyy fascinated with the human world and doin her own thing, yadadaya

Anyways I never have really thought much about her dad as a character, I’ve always been like ‘oh he’s just sorta in the background’. But nooo dude I’d LOVE to make him like, just. A DAD. Satan, a guy who loves his two daughters lmfaooo. Typa guy to wear Hawaiian shirts, tell dad jokes, probably loves grilling. That’s SO fun. Maybe he goes by Mr. S instead of ‘Satan’💀💀💀 idk as a former catholic school kid, something about making the devil, the incarnation of EVIL, some fun dad (he’s still a bad guy don’t get me wrong) is SO FUNNNN

[flatbstanley]

Cast of Characters

Quick bios, family trees, and links to character tags!

The Santoro Family

Taylor Santoro was raised Catholic, but she wasn't particularly religious until her sophomore year at UBrite. Previously a star soccer player, she had to give up competitive sports after being diagnosed with a genetic heart condition. Her uncertainty and loneliness made her a prime target for FACTS, a conservative Catholic mission group.

It was through FACTS that Taylor met her future husband, Justin. She left school to marry him during her junior year, and began creating social media content as a way to make extra money for her student loan payments. Over the years, she's become surprisingly successful as a lifestyle vlogger and influencer.

Justin's descent into the throes of conservative Catholicism never sat quite right with Taylor, and with the support of friends, she worked up the courage to separate from him. But he isn't making the divorce proceedings easy.

Taylor lives in San Sequoia with her and Justin's five children: Gia, Max, Ambrose, Zelie, and Leo. A sixth baby is on the way.

The Newton Family

Claire Newton is an influencer whose podcast, Just Catholic Girl Things, is beginning to take off. But her main source of income is her father Richard, a major real estate developer in her hometown of Chestnut Ridge.

Claire first met Justin when he invited her to appear on his own podcast, Quotidianum. When he revealed that he wasn't allowed visitation with his kids due to lack of available beds, Claire invited him to use her house. She considers their relationship a purely platonic one...even if they share the same bed on occasion.

Claire often competes at the local equestrian center with her horse, Shiloh. Her sister Elise, a horse trainer and riding instructor, lives on a nearby ranch with their dad.

The Moreno Family

Kelly Moreno is a former FACTS missionary, and the person who first introduced Taylor to the organization. During her second year as a missionary, Kelly realized that she had serious doubts about her work and considered quitting. However, Justin intimidated her into finishing out her commitment. Kelly is still a practicing Catholic, but far more moderate than she was during her missionary days. She works as a third-grade teacher at St. Petronella's School.

Kelly's husband, Alan, considered going to law school, but ultimately chose a career in educational administration. He was the principal of St. Petronella's until he was fired by Fr. Crane.

Kelly and Alan live in Willow Creek with their four children: Jonah, Isaiah, Brielle, and Gemma.

The Ershad-Newbury Family

Ayla Newbury first met Taylor when their younger daughters became fast friends at the local rec center. Since then, she's grown close to both her and Kelly.

After working as a commercial artist for many years, Ayla went back to college to finish a degree in art education. She was the long-term substitute for Kelly's class during her maternity leave. Although she loved the job, she was unable to secure a permanent position when Fr. Crane prohibited the hire of non-Catholics.

Ayla attended a nondenominational church on holidays and special occasions as a child, but considers herself nonreligious. She is married to Zahid, an IT project manager, and they live in Copperdale with their daughters Poppy and Emily.

The Dalton Family

Will Dalton is a family law attorney and longtime friend of Alan's. The Morenos recommended him to Taylor, and he has been representing her throughout her divorce proceedings.

Will's wife, Katie, holds both a regular law degree and a licentiate in canon law (the law of the Catholic Church). She was briefly involved in FACTS during law school, but found the organization off-putting. She now works as a corporate attorney for Obscure Logistics, Justin's former employer.

Will and Katie live in San Myshuno with their sons Liam and Jackson.

[eremosjournal]

By Chad Hewitt

In 1998, I was a fifth grader at a Catholic school in a small town in Ohio. This meant school uniforms, mass twice a week (or more, if there was a holy day that week), and a strict adherence to the principles outlined in the Catechism of the Catholic Church. These principles included two types: the fundamentals of Jesus’ teachings, like the Beatitudes (“Blessed are the persecuted”) and then others, never explicitly stated in the Bible but upheld within society over thousands of years and filtered down into the parochial school system (i.e.“Don’t be gay”). The former were taught through Scripture, sermons, and sacraments. The latter were enforced by other kids, television, and my developing pre-adolescent brain.

As the youngest of three boys in my family, I learned how to operate within these sometimes conflicting paradigms. “Love thy neighbor as yourself”, but only if your “self” is a certain thing; “thou shall not lie”, unless it’s about something like your sexual orientation. Then by all means, lie, lie and lie some more.

Imagine my confusion when during the course of my usual weekday afternoon routine of watching Total Request Live at my best friend Stiv’s house, a music video premiered by a brand new artist named Britney Spears. While I had absolutely no understanding of what the phrase “Hit me baby one more time,” meant, in that moment I immediately felt something come over me, just like Harry Potter receiving his wand for the first time. I had no idea what kind of wand it was exactly but I would soon find out that most of the other boys didn’t even receive their letter to Hogwarts. Yes, we would all agree that Britney was “hot”, but I sensed that the way I felt about her was different and wouldn’t be shared, much less celebrated, by my friends at school. The girls, maybe. The boys, very unlikely.

But if we’re being honest, who doesn’t like Britney Spears? If you find yourself in a room of people who don’t turn the fuck up during “Toxic” then that room, quite frankly, is dangerous and you should get out. The difference was that I loved her for other reasons. Reasons that I couldn’t really put into words and probably wouldn’t even if I could. Reasons that pointed to something about myself that I was taught for so long was shameful and bad. Reasons that, if embraced, would upset my entire worldview and consequently, the relationships that were formed through it. At that time I wasn’t even totally sure if these feelings were real or not, but I did know that sooner or later, I would have to confront them. When I did let myself imagine my life in the context of these fears, the best-case scenario was loving a person that the Church would not consider acceptable, and that would mean a blatant rejection of Christ's love. And so I ultimately had to choose. God’s will or mine. To spare myself the sense of grief and loneliness I would feel from turning my back on God, I dug my heels in, so to speak.

Thus, Britney became the first of many of my guilty pleasures. Since I wasn’t necessarily “allowed” to genuinely love her, I had to love her ironically, justifying my requests for her songs at school dances as a joke. Through my high school and college years I had many more of these “guilty pleasures”, always justifying things that made people even slightly suspicious as an ironic interest and never serious. Because if enjoying those things made something else true about me, then all hope for my eternal soul was lost. *collapses on a chaise lounge*

Recently I had my 34th birthday party, and since Jesus didn’t get to have one of those, the theme was “What Would Jesus Have Done?” Everyone had to dress up as some version of Jesus, whether real or made up. My boyfriend did exceptional work in coordinating the party, which was replete with bespoke cocktail menu (including my favorite, “The Gay Wedding at Cana”), communion wafers as snacks, and a neon cross. I showed up in a priest's robe, and some people didn’t quite understand why, given the theme’s parameters. It was meant to be ironic: I was in costume as a version of myself that might have been if I had never come out. The actual me was enjoying his friends, dancing with his boyfriend at a gay bar in New York City to Britney Spears’ music. Heaven.

This is one of the bigger surprises to me about coming out as queer as a former Catholic: seemingly overnight, all of your guilty pleasures become sanctified. In this new world, liking Britney Spears doesn’t conflict with one’s identity or morality or religion. Britney Spears is the religion. Thinking back now about that first hit of serotonin from hearing “Baby One More Time”, I realize there was something familiar about what she was singing. The song isn’t necessarily about someone whining to an ex for attention. It could also be an actual prayer: the words of a person begging for some kind of signal that they are loved. The desperation and sorrow of a person that feels badly about themselves but doesn’t seem to understand why. The conviction of a person who knows their prayers will be answered one day.

At one point at my party while everyone was dancing, “Oops I Did It Again” started playing and I tore off my robe, revealing a second costume underneath: a shiny red bodysuit. My favorite version of my own personal savior.

[dankusner]

Patric Gagne is a writer, former therapist, and advocate for people suffering from sociopathic, psychopathic, and anti-social personality disorders.

She earned a PhD in clinical psychology with a dissertation that examined the relationship between sociopathy and anxiety.

This research became the groundwork for her continued studies on sociopathic disorder, as well as the foundation for her memoir. 

She did her undergraduate work at UCLA and earned her masters and doctorate at the California Graduate Institute of The Chicago School.

MODERN LOVE

He Married a Sociopath: Me

As a wife and a mother, I have learned how to tell the truth. Which is why I always know when my husband is lying.

By Patric Gagne Oct. 16, 2020

My husband was trying to tell me I was “the only one” for him.

“Don’t lie to a liar,” I said.

It wasn’t a very romantic reply, I’ll admit. But I’m not a romantic. I’m a sociopath.

My husband knows this, of course.

As for me, I knew as early as age 7 that I wasn’t like other children.

I didn’t care about things the way they did.

I was a girl (my male-sounding name, Patric, is short for Patricia) who mostly felt nothing.

It wasn’t until college that a therapist told me what I had long suspected: My lack of emotion and empathy are hallmarks of sociopathy.

A few years later, doctors would confirm my diagnosis.

Human beings aren’t designed to function without access to emotion, so we sociopaths often become destructive in order to feel things.

I used to break into houses or steal cars for the adrenaline rush of knowing I was somewhere I wasn’t allowed to be — just to feel, period.

It didn’t take long for me to realize this was not an effective life strategy.

Rather than risk incarceration (or worse), I used my diagnosis to fuel my pursuit of a Ph.D. in psychology.

Like many, I gained my first understanding of sociopaths from pop culture, which portrays us as singularly dangerous and threatening, our flat emotional state and lack of remorse making us unfit for normal life.

It wasn’t until I began my research in graduate school that I learned sociopaths exist along a wide spectrum, like many people with psychiatric disorders.

You’ll find us everywhere in daily life, as your colleagues, neighbors, friends and, sometimes, members of your own family.

My husband and I dated in high school and found each other again after college.

You would think my insincerity, emotional poverty, absence of shame and guilt, and reduced empathic response wouldn’t exactly land me in the “dream girl” category.

Perhaps because he and I had grown up together and he was already familiar with my “bad” side, he remained in denial for years about my having any sort of real psychological problem.

Nevertheless, 13 years later, we’re still in love and happily married.

But am I “the only one” for him? Definitely not.

My husband had developed a crush on a female colleague at work.

It was obvious, and I understood why.

She was everything I’m not: thoughtful, kind, compassionate.

I doubt she ever attempted to choke anyone.

Unlike me.

She was socially appropriate at parties, appreciated compliments and affection.

Her charm was authentic and her darkness, if she had any, relatable.

Unlike mine.

It made sense he would like her.

They would make a great pair.

So why wouldn’t he just admit it?

He knew I didn’t take things like this personally.

That’s one of the perks of being married to a sociopath: I don’t get jealous.

He knew that if he were to tell me he liked her, I would listen and relate without reaction.

I might even end up helping him shed some of his Catholic-school guilt.

All he had to do was be honest.

When you’re a sociopath in a marriage, especially one with children, honesty is critical — even more, I would argue, than for people in “normal” relationships.

As a sociopath, I had difficulty prioritizing telling the truth, but as a wife and a mother, I forced myself to learn.

Outside of my family, my loyalty to the truth is what has enabled me to connect with other people.

As a doctor who specializes in the research of sociopathy, I prize credibility and integrity as my greatest asset.

Granted, it hasn’t been easy.

People claim to want complete honesty from their partner or spouse, but I have found they aren’t always happy when they get it, especially when that honesty is coming from a sociopath.

My husband was never thrilled to hear that I had spent the day in a stranger’s house without that person’s knowledge or committed other misdeeds.

But his real anger was reserved for the fact that I never felt guilty about these things.

For my husband, guilt is a driving force.

His formative years were shaped by his overbearing and infirm mother.

And then he married someone who seemed immune to it.

He wanted to know: Why did I never care what anyone thought? Why was my behavior never limited by guilt?

For a long time, he was angry.

But eventually he began to understand it wasn’t my fault that I was born with a reduced capacity for remorse.

And it wasn’t his fault his mother was so negatively attached.

A few years after we married, with his encouragement, my behavior started to shift.

I would never experience shame the way other people do, but I would learn to understand it.

Thanks to him, I started to behave.

I stopped acting like a sociopath.

And thanks to me, he started to see the value in not caring as much about what others thought.

He noticed how often guilt was forcing his hand, frequently in unhealthy directions.

He would never be a sociopath, but he saw value in a few of my personality traits.

He learned to say “no” and mean it, especially when it came to activities he was doing purely out of obligation — family visits or holiday gatherings he didn’t enjoy but couldn’t decline.

He started to recognize when he was being manipulated.

He noticed when emotion was clouding his judgment.

What a pair we are.

Certainly, there have been setbacks.

He isn’t always patient.

I’m not always on my best behavior.

And on those occasions, I leave a token on his desk to let him know when I have been up to no good (minor mischief like sneaking embarrassing items into a line-cutter’s grocery cart).

The token I leave is an innocuous trinket, a Statue of Liberty figurine from a key chain.

Anyone else who saw it wouldn’t think twice. But he knows what it means.

Whenever I leave the figurine on his desk, it means I’ve done something wrong.

The second he sees it, he comes to find me, gives me a kiss and slips it back into my purse.

Often, he doesn’t ask what I’ve done, but if he does, he knows he can trust me to be honest.

And I know the same, so I never stray too far outside the lines.

Which is why his denial of his office crush was so confusing.

For the first time in our relationship, it wasn’t my interpretation of the truth that was causing a shift in our marriage; it was his.

Believe it or not, I could appreciate the cause of his dishonesty.

On good days, I was almost entertained by it.

His clumsy white lies were like a toddler’s, and nearly as endearing.

On those days I wanted to hug him for being so cute.

“You see what you’re doing?” I wanted to say. “You’re not being honest about your feelings for her. You’re lying. Now, how is this any different from what I used to do?”

And just like that, he would have gotten a lesson in empathy — from a sociopath, no less!

And we would have laughed and understood each other better and gone back to sharing everything.

At least I’d like to think so.

My husband, after all, was the one who said we must be honest without exception.

And he was the one who insisted I confess to every single thing every single time.

So why wasn’t he playing by the same rules?

I have been forced to come clean about everything, even when — especially when — I don’t want to.

It’s hard, frustrating, confusing and annoying, but I have done it for him, for us!

If he wasn’t willing to do the same, then what?

Should I leave him?

Go back to being dishonest?

Wait for him to leave me?

On bad days, these were the thoughts that dominated.

When I couldn’t help but wonder: Is this what fear feels like?

I think it was.

My husband was lying to me.

Gaslighting me.

Sneaking.

Acting like a sociopath.

And isn’t that how we sociopaths are defined — as liars without the ability to empathize?

On such days, I saw what it must be like to be married to someone like me.

And the irony is almost shimmering.

Still, I couldn’t help but smile thinking of the future, of the days when we would be able to joke about the time we almost split up because he started acting like a sociopath.

And that in doing so, my husband was finally able to teach me the one thing I have been trying to learn all of my life: empathy.

Patric Gagne is a writer and doctor of psychology from Los Angeles.

What It Feels Like to Be a Sociopath

In movies, sociopaths are often depicted as cold-blooded killers, but the disorder is actually widely misunderstood.

Patric Gagne is a therapist, wife and mother of two living in the Los Angeles area, and she just wrote a gripping memoir about how it actually feels to be a sociopath.

I interviewed Patric on the phone about misconceptions, her childhood, and her urge to break rules…

First off, what do you wish society knew about sociopathy?

Sociopathy doesn’t mean what a lot of people think it means.

Sociopaths can feel the primary emotions, like happiness, sadness and anger.

But sociopaths have a harder time feeling the social emotions [emotions that depend upon the feelings or actions of other people, such as embarrassment, guilt, shame and empathy].

Sociopaths can learn social emotions, they just learn them differently.

I call sociopathy an ‘emotional learning disability,’ since that’s what it feels like.

People often picture sociopaths as Ted Bundy or Jeffrey Dahmer, not average people.

Not every sociopath is a serial killer who’s out to get you.

These extreme examples comprise only a small fraction.

But they’ve been misappropriated to define everyone with the disorder.

It’s wild to me that this perception has been allowed.

It’s the only personality disorder where we are villainized full stop, even though that’s not what the research says.

There’s so much mental health awareness these days around autism, depression, anxiety, the list goes on.

So, I was shocked by the negative comments on your New York Times piece.

People were really upset that they featured an interview with a sociopath.

I represent a very inconvenient truth because many people want to think all sociopaths look like monsters, since monsters are easy to spot.

It’s unsettling that you could be living next door to a sociopath and have no idea, or with one and have no idea.

People don’t like that.

Statistics say that the prevalence is just under 5% of the population.

Little kids can seem like sociopaths.

Toby once bit a kid at the playground, and Anton would push over his friend’s block towers.

What’s the difference between typical kid behavior and sociopathic behavior?

Socio-emotions are learned emotions.

Babies don’t automatically feel remorse from the womb.

When a kid knocks down block towers, you say, ‘Hey, that might make someone sad.’

A neurotypical child will get that and start feeling shame or guilt.

A neurodivergent kid may still feel ambivalent.

My mom would say, ‘Well, you don’t want people to feel sad, do you?’ And I was like, well, what does it matter? I couldn’t conceptualize those traditional socialization lessons until I was much older.

As a kid, did you know you were different?

Yes. I learned very quickly that it wasn’t okay to say, I don’t feel bad about that.

And I learned that it wasn’t okay to say, I’m not excited that so-and-so is coming to visit. If someone asks if you’re excited, you nod and say yes. I realized that in kindergarten.

If you suspect your child might have an ‘emotional learning disability,’ how would you approach that?

Preemptively sit a child down and say, ‘Personally, I feel excitement or shame in this or that situation, but there are a lot of people who don’t feel anything when X, Y and Z. And it’s okay that you don’t have those feelings.’

When you’re socializing kids, talk about behaviors, all day long, but not emotions.

There is nothing inherently immoral about having limited access to emotion.

There was a scene in the book where your mom was crying to your dad, saying, what can we do with her?

What has your mom said about raising you, looking back?

When I was growing up, psychology wasn’t as much of a thing, and my mom did the best she could.

Her reaction to the book is what I’d hoped for: understanding that there was a reason that I behaved the way I did that had nothing to do with her.

This is a personality disorder, not anything a parent did right or wrong – the lack of a traditional emotional response is not personal.

You talk in the book about how, since you didn’t feel strong emotions, you would instead feel apathy.

Then stress would build up, and you’d do risky behavior just to feel something, anything.

Can you tell us about that?

Yes, as a kid, I would sneak into our neighbors’ house when they weren’t home and just hang out, or sneak out of my house at night and follow people around the neighborhood.

In college, I stole cars at night, drove them for hours, and then returned them without people ever knowing.

What about hurting people?

I wrote down the rule that I couldn’t hurt anyone.

Then I thought, so, what can I do?

Sneaking into a neighbor’s house, it’s like, look, there’s no one in this house, who cares if I’m here?

But because I knew I wasn’t ‘supposed’ to do it, it felt good.

It gave me a release.

It can’t explain it more than that.

If you’re a kid, and you throw a bottle, it feels good – this is similar.

I didn’t really want to be doing that stuff, but I felt a compulsion.

A compulsion? That sounds similar to OCD or addiction.

I read a magazine article about OCD, and it felt similar — that compulsion to do things that you don’t want to do but that you know will make you feel less stressed.

I remember thinking, oh, so instead of repetitive behaviors or counting or washing hands, I feel compelled to do destructive things.

That understanding helped me recognize that maybe if I follow the tips that they give for OCD, maybe my stuck stress will go away, too.

What were the OCD tips?

They recommended writing down your behaviors and teasing out why they made you feel better.

It’s all about redirecting it so it doesn’t control your life.

I remember, as a child, picturing people in prison and thinking, wouldn’t that be nice?

I’d think about being in lockdown with the lights off and how even if they wanted to do something, even if their compulsive drive was at the absolute highest, they couldn’t do something destructive because they were inside the walls. Wouldn’t that be nice not to be lying in my own bed feeling powerless against that urge?

What are your urges like as an adult?

My traditional lifestyle has been such a service to me because I respond to the structure and the idea that I have a family.

I could go out and steal a car tomorrow and I might get arrested, or I could choose to do some cognitive journaling.

So many people on the sociopathic spectrum have the ability to lead high-functioning, beautiful lives.

What are your guidelines for living a moral life, since you can’t really trust your gut? Do you lean on social norms and laws?

As a sociopath, you can still have a moral compass.

I don’t feel shame and guilt, but my working brain can still tell me what is right and wrong.

A sociopath makes decisions based on logic.

I appreciate the benefits that come with living within a harmonious community.

I don’t have to CARE in order to make the right choice.

That’s something people get wrong about sociopathy – ‘I have to care about you to do the right thing by you’ is just as inaccurate as ‘you have to believe in God in order to make the right choices in life.’

You make the right choices in life because they benefit you and the people you love.

You wrote that your husband sometimes gets upset that you can’t love him in this all-encompassing way.

You love him, of course, but you feel emotions differently.

My husband is Italian, he’s as hot-blooded and passionate as it gets.

You don’t have to be a sociopath to not meet those qualifications!

That said, love is a learned emotion.

Just because feelings like love and remorse don’t come naturally to sociopaths doesn’t mean they don’t come, period.

What does he think of your memoir?

I would write chapters and my husband would read them first, and there were more than a dozen times where he came in and said, you can’t write this, you have to burn this.

He was aghast that I would even consider telling these stories, but playing such an intricate part in the writing process also allowed him to understand what I was saying.

I’ve been with him since I was a kid, and when he read it in black and white, he finally understood me.

What do you hope people take away from the book?

Most of all, I wrote it in the hopes of reaching sociopathic people to feel less alone.

But also I wrote it so neurotypical people could read it and go, ahhh!

sociopath memoir Patric Gagne child

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

so, a random high school memory just popped into my head, and also not so randomly popped into my head from going through my 'relationships I guess' tag.

anyway, I've probs talked before about how anal the catholic school that I went to for high school between 2008 and 2011 (years 7-10) was about the whole "duty of care" thing- especially when it came to formal/prom season in year 10 (2011 for me) and year 12 (2013 for me). so imagine you're one of the 'popular' or 'hot' girls in your year group, and you've got your hot boyfriend whose 21 (yikes in hindsight), that you want to bring to your year 10 formal. the school says no bc of "duty of care"- so then you have to pair up with one of the boys in your year that you don't like in that way- just for the sake of having a formal date/partner.

say you're now in year 12 and you're still one of the popular girls- albeit one of the ones that everyone hates. you want to take your boyfie who graduated the year prior (2012), who is from the same school. however, that also rules him out as a date to your year 12 formal, despite him being only a year older and a previous student of the school. so again, you must take one of your guy friends from your year group to the formal with you.

compare this to the public school that I transferred to for years 11 and 12 (2012-2013). one of my close friends took her 21 year old boyfriend to our year 12 formal. like obvs there's not much you can do, considering nearly all of us (bar people who were late November and December birthdays) were 18, so maybe the teachers at that school felt like they didn't have much of a say of who people brought as their dates to the formal. also two boys from the catholic school actually turned up to this school's formal too.

but it was the distinct form of freedom to me, that the school didn't seem to give a flying fuck about what you did or who your brought along to this event. whereas the catholic school enjoyed sticking their noses into EVERYONES business telling you who you can and can't take to your formals/proms- even if they were former students of the school the previous year- or even current students in the year below you. it's a date from your year or NOTHING- and woe is you if you have the sheer audacity to go alone to the event. what a shame.

but in the case of the girl who in year 10 in 2011 that kept campaigning for her 21 year old DJ (house party dj) boyfriend to not only be the DJ for our formal (he has better music than the DJ the school uses for our socials (school dances)), but also to be her date... like paula. that 21yo grown ass man does NOT love you. you are 15/16. what on earth does this 21yo scumbag douchebag dude have in common with you??? why is he pushing you to take him, as your date, to your HIGH SCHOOL formal??? please don't bring him and stop begging to have him as the DJ.... when it's not the music that he's really there for. it's the access to girls your age.... when he's fuckin 21 and should be nowhere near a teen girl's year 10 formal/junior prom (not counting family tagging along to the photos portion of the event).

because I can see now that the catholic school, to some extent, did care about safety when the 21yo boyfriend wanting to be a formal date thing came into play. because I remember when I turned 21 in 2016, when the 16-18yo year 10 to year 12 students from the nearby high schools would come to my home uni's campus for lunch and decent coffee during their free periods or lunch breaks. i remember thinking "christ they're so young" and stuff like that. whenever I heard them talking amongst each other about their HSCs (end of high school exams) and ATARs (uni entrance marks), I always thought to myself, "god. I remember when that shit actually mattered.... and it doesn't now lmao bc I'm here". and "they really are just kids."

then when I did a couple of first year electives the next year, 2017, and I talked to the 18yos in those classes..... I realised how much I'd grown and stuff in the 4 years since high school had finished for me. and it was esp stark when all those kids kept telling me to turn in my work from high school.... all because that's what they were doing to save time, and they were apparently "getting high distinctions" bc their work was just "so good and intelligently written" or whatever bullshit they told me. so when I told them that, "hey. uh I can't really do that because I've grown so much since late high school that my writing voice is quite different and matured... and I don't think I could make my work NOT sound like it was written by 16 to 18 year old me." to which they'd always respond to me with "well that just means you're NOT a talented enough writer like me. why are you even in an arts degree if you can't make your work sound as good and as smart as mine???" like good luck, dana and jack, when your high school bs work starts running out..... and you realise halfway through uni that you're not as talented as you think you are.... and that your professors were just being nice to you in your first semesters. your teenage hubris will come crashing down soon. trust me.

but my point is that my growth between my late teen years and my early 20s was pretty big. I remember thinking that even the 17/18yos I was with in those 2017 first year electives with were practically still kids. but obvs being 18 and having moved interstate (some of the first years) makes them, to themselves, more mature and worldly than me, who is just a lowly local student vs becca who moved 10 hours away from her family to attend my local uni.

but my point is, to my younger followers, if i have any.... is that your high school has a point with duty of care rules, to not let you take your partner, esp if they're in their early 20s and you're 16-18 for your junior or senior prom. like yes it may be an absolute pain that you have to take laikynn, who is a dumb rudeass jock or the weird kid teddy or yknow- shock, horror you dare to go alone- bc fuck "needing a date" to these things.

but your early 20s partner is at a different stage of life to you- and defs should not be cruising around a year 10 formal/junior prom venue trying to idek "keep an eye on you" or whatever the stupid excuse is about wanting to go with you- let alone date you in the first place. bc never once, in my early 20s, did I want to date a 16-18yo. even if yes, there was only 4 years of age difference between me and the new 18yo uni students in 2017. but that 4 years meant that I was almost graduating, meant that I'd been to business college (this was a rip-off to get me into uni tbh) and had significant other stuff going on that made me grow, instead of y'know, just stagnating and staying in a teenagers mindset.

it meant that I was contemplating my future a bit... where would I go with my english/philosophy degree??? while the new students were still riding the highs of getting their desired ATARs or getting into uni through early entry. probs still thinking nice fluffy thoughts that an arts degree will make them a millionaire and get them hired instantly. when in reality, no one wants to hire you and will instantly pigeon-hole you into a teaching role.... despite your complete disinterest in the job field... and you personally knowing that it's NOT a fit for you.... but i digress.

so yeah. I now realise that the catholic school actually had a point with being hella anal about duty of care when it came to my formals/proms. so to any younger users on here: if some early 20 something person wants to date you, and wants you to take them to your high school event, really question their motives and why on earth they'd really want to go to your year 10 formal/junior prom or even senior events, with you.

you're 15/16 for junior prom/Y10F. take jake from science class or carina from english class. or go alone with your friends, bc you won't die if you don't have a partner for these events.... despite what that society says. or whatever weird bs an older partner could spit out to try to go with you. same goes for senior prom. go with someone your own age, not your 23yo partner who shouldn't be dating a teenager - like bro (gender neutral) knows what rent is and how to pay it. bro knows how to pay interest on a car loan. dump their ass. hell go with a person in the year below you, like i could've done for my year 12 formal. just don't invite some 20 something year old to a high school event it's weird af.... and your school has a point in regards to safety.

[randomnumbers751650]

That post on Superman made me think why I’m writing my novel. Since it’s from a work that I haven’t got to finish (got sidetracked because I decided that I should write a fanfic where an idol reincarnates as a mech pilot), I’ll put under Read More.

I mentioned in the tags that gentleness is underrated strength in our current time (among others). Maybe I was just being a boomer when saying this, so you can ignore that, but still why do many people complain? I studied heroism and heroes from an academic point of view and I know that the monomyth/hero’s journey is bullshit.

In my novel, Mara is a loser. Both before and after going to Tabula. Before, she’s poor, ugly, unhealthy and perceives herself to be unloved and unlovable (she thinks her mom hates her and she’s only partially right). After that, nothing changes; even if she gets the “solution” to being poor, ugly and unhealthy, everyone there is brainwashed to serve her and those aren’t either freaking hate or pantshittingly fear her.

But one thing that I want to include is Mara losing all intellectual debates and discussions. I always hated the trope of small kid humiliating everyone else. Mara is just a teenager, she only doesn’t flunk because she’s studying in the literally worst school in all of Tokyo, they’re too apathetic to flunk kids there. Of course she has no capacity to win against an intellectual debate (1).

Returning to Mara, she has a few things: faith, kindness, gentleness. She’s the very definition of a good girl and that’s what being tested here. Tojava is doing all those things because, while she believes in the good potential of mankind, she thinks the best course of action is removing mankind’s ability to choose evil, no matter the cost. Mara has to be tempted to either agree with Tojava or become bitter and closed to the world (because she isn’t becoming a villain, she has no drive for that).

But I’m aiming for a third choice. Mara is a devout Catholic, but, in the beginning she’s one because it fulfills a need in her life (God is love), so she doesn’t really know why she is one. Her time in Tabula will test that and many times she’ll feel God has abandoned her. But through perseverance she has to learn she can’t be someone passive; if God is love, you have to put that in practice. Otherwise, her defeat is guaranteed because those fancy powers are temporary.

That’s what makes Superman so interesting as a character: he has a lot of fancy powers, but they don’t really define who he is; rather, they provide even more incentive for him to be kind, gentle, compassionate. And I hope to do something like that in my novel.

(1) There’s an academic edge to this, which is fitting because I work in the field. Aristotle taught us that debates can be won and the one who lost should submit (I only read his Poetics, but this I’m saying from a former pastor of mine who said this to me, who, in hindsight, was a bit too much interested in winning arguments, and whose church I don’t go anymore for a large variety of reasons and I don’t regret anything), but the more I study philosophy of science, the more I see that, from a technical point of view it’s impossible to win a debate because we’re always discovering new things in science that might make old debates outdated. It’s like attributing magical properties, the final word of a debate is a conversion spell. I won a debate once, when I had facebook, against a contact who always won against me; I managed to trap him and win…we stop talking (he was another who put way too much interest in winning debates), but even after “winning”, I felt it was one of the emptiest experiences of my life. Contrast with Ayn Rand, another person who had a bit too much faith in the miraculous properties of debates, and a big fan of Aristotle, who loved to create strawmen for her characters to beat subhuman antagonists; and whose biographers said it was invincible in debates, but her invincibility was more because it made the other realize “why the hall am I taking to her?” and just move on with their lives. This is why I hate the trope of "super genius defeats so-called wise men", because it's just so self-indulgent in a toxic way, even when I agree with the winning side.

[doueverwonder]

👀

okay so I MAY have talked about this one before I don't remember BUT

AusHun human au, they live in Vienna at the beginning of the story Erzsébet is a kindergarten teacher, Roderich owns a tailor shop; they have four kids Liesl, Ludwig, Edith, and Franz.

The family is going through a tough time, the shop isn't doing well and Erzsébet's teaching salary can't cover everything, Liesl is about to graduate and is infatuated with the idea of taking over the family business, refusing to believe that it's going under. Ludwig got expelled from school for reasons I haven't decided yet. Edith is on the verge of getting kicked out bc she's a firecracker of a child who likes getting in fights and talking back to her teachers. Franz is really little and hasn't purposefully done anything, but he kinda set the story off by... being born? like they had only planned on two kids, and lived comfortably with two kids. They had Edith and were still okay, she was kind of a surprise but it was alright.

Then when Franz was born is was legitimate panic, the store had already been going down hill, and it was very much "one more person in this family and we will be barely scraping by"; they figure it out. Somehow. But by the time Franz is two there is no more figuring it out, or scraping by.

Roderich sold the shop without telling Erzsébet. Didn't tell anyone for that matter, packed everything up, handed over the keys to the storefront two days later. By that point in time it was just costing them money, better of selling it than trying to revive the business. She was reasonably mad at him, because you don't make those decisions without consulting your spouse first.

As if this all isn't enough I have more set up conflict; Roderich is Jewish, Erzsébet is Catholic. Both of their families are unfortunately not okay with that, and when they got married anyway both got disowned. Through an aunt or distant cousin that Erzí still talks to sometimes, it got back to Erzsébet's family that they were struggling financially. and in an asshole move her family came to her and said "If you divorce him, you can bring the kids and come live with us" She obviously laughed in their faces, called them idiots and quit contact with anyone she was still talking to.

Roderich's family's opinion was a little more complicated; bc Roderich's family had been nudging him in the direction of a certain girl since he was a teenager bc y'know helicopter parents who have to determine who is worthy of their son. He actually dating her, for three years, they ended up engaged. Four months into being engaged he met Erzsébet, a month later he called off the wedding. And like, where it gets complicated on Roderich's side is he could have been happy, he could have made it work with his former fiancee. But when he met Erzí he realized he could have a marriage where he didn't have to 'make it work'. His family was more mad at him for breaking off an engagement, the fact that Erzsébet wasn't Jewish was really just a cherry on top in the situation.

ANYWAY This does however open the gate for someone else to make an offer; Erzsébet's parents had divorced when she was very young like four years old. Her mother had disowned her when she married Roderich, and her father wasn't extremely present. They spoke once or twice every few weeks, he sent her birthday cards, he had seen plenty of pictures of his grandkids, but they weren't part of each others lives. He hears through snippets of things she says, and the grapevine that they're struggling, and says "Why don't you come live with me in Budapest?" she confirms he's serious (and has the room for six extra people) and then promises to talk to Roderich about it.

Long story short, they move to Budapest right before the new school year starts. I know that's all just backstory but the rest of the fic is kinda boring and not completely thought out yet. Liesl is out of school and figuring out being an adult in an entire new place than where she grew up, Ludwig is getting some stereotypical Coming Of Age lessons, Edith probably gets one of those 'troubled kid finds an outlet and is actually really good at it' arcs, Franz just chills and becomes his grandpas favorite. Roderich reopens his shop, Erzsébet gets to reconnect with her father (some very sappy scenes to follow). It's just a... the world was falling apart but we got through it and everything okay now.

[gathersroses]

@heygutlcss cont.

despite trying to be serious, she can only go so long without cracking some kind of joke. the fact that she's sober through all this doesn't help either. any form of alcohol is the last thing she can afford right now. that doctor's appointment already scabbed her dry and that was only the beginning. grazie shrugs. ❝ maybe, but i’ve succeeded in getting it, didn’t i? i’m a lunatic, but a rewarded one. ❞

that gets a small laugh from her. ❝ you get slapped with a metal stick if you asked questions? if i was in that class and you asked what was in those paper bags, i would’a hit you before sister joanne morton had the chance. poor girls. ❞ tucking her hands into her pockets, grazie lets out a low whistle. ❝ wouldn’t’ve minded some jerk guy getting hit for being a prick and asking anyway. ’ she can think of a few former classmates she wouldn’t have minded having a stick knocked against their knuckles. ❝ yeah? why not? i wanna know what was in those bags. tampons or pads? or did your catholic school have that whole thing about tampons taking your virginity or whatever? ❞

grazie gives him hell every time he shows up with a new bruise or scar. this jet business has been getting more and more tiring as time goes on. when she was younger, it made her feel like it was protecting her from something. now, it's just stupid. ❝ everyone needs band aids, riff. you never know when your girlfriend’ll go up to you and tell you that you knocked her up and you burn your hand on the stove. ❞

there's already a cat in mind. the little tabby she found in the dumpster and she secretly nursed back to health for as long as he needed her. that cat was a lot easier than taking care of a human baby. when that tabby didn't need her anymore, grazie could open up the door and let him wander around as much as he wanted to. can't just do that with her own kid, despite what her mother did to her and her brother. ❝ nah. that's a stupid name. ❞ she wouldn't name that poor cat after the enemy creature. it would be as if they named this kid shark or emerald.

❝ i don't know what i'm gonna do. told you that. i just - ❞ she runs a hand through her hair ❝ - it seems wrong to just give them up like that. ❞ her parents didn't want her. who is graziella to continue the bianchi line like that? parents giving birth to kids they don't want and giving up on them. ❝ it's you and me? we're figuring this out together, right? ❞

[liminalpebble]

@fairyysoup hurngggg!!!! You knocked it out of the park again. How have I only NOW found this? Kudos to the curator of that "best of" list. ROSE...GODDAM. I love when you're cheeky with religious and mystical things/themes/imagery. And the imagery in this....the details...just incredible. My massive sacrilege kink and former catholic school girl horniness thanks you.

thoughts on an Eddie with a pastors daughter? 👀

ahaha. this started as a headcanon post and then the smut popped off and then my hand slipped and now it's too long to even be a drabble so. boney apple teeth

the pearl rosary

pairing(s): eddie munson x pastors daughter!reader

summary: Eddie's not religious, but he'll listen to you praying all day.

words: 3.7k

warnings: explicit (18+ MINORS DNI), smut, unprotected sex, car sex, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), fluids play, choking, pull-out, dom!eddie, perv!eddie, mild stalking, sacrilege, religious themes, praying during sex, rosary used as a leash, hozier references ofc

Eddie doesn't go to church, okay? The only thing even slightly religious about him is the cross on his finger, and that's just for looks. He doesn't know a lot about religion besides what he read about Jonestown (that was a whole fixation he had one summer that still persists, don't ask him about Jim Jones unless you want a full in-depth, documentary narration-style explanation of the entire thing.)

Does he believe in a god? Debatable.

He does attend church one time, though, and it's at the behest of Uncle Wayne, who was invited by a coworker's wife. He owes it to Wayne for bailing him out the last time Hop arrested him for possession anyways.

The church is tucked away in some trees and has really intricate stained glass windows, so the only light that comes in is a pretty sort of violet, that washes everything in an ethereal glow. The pews are tiny and the air is heavy with incense, and it feels a little like the new age spiritual shop he wandered into one time in Indianapolis to look at the hand crafted bongs. (Alas, he still wants one.)

He's distracted by the murals all over the walls, though. Nobody ever told him religious art was so horrific. There’s a guy being stabbed to death, angels fleeing from the scene as his murderer drives a knife through his chest. Under the painting, there’s a plaque that reads The Martyrdom of Saint Matthew.

But then you shuffle past, and he's completely distracted by something else entirely.

He's always been a sucker for the sweet-and-innocent type, and you fit the bill completely. Mary-Janes and a bow on the front of your blouse and everything. You're holding something that looks like a necklace in your hands with a crucifix on it. It's this really pretty pearlescent color that shines milky white the purple light from the stained glass windows, cascading over your knuckles and reminding him, perversely, of when he comes all over his hand while jerking off, and jesus h-

He's in a church.

Eddie opens his mouth to say something to get your attention, but then he clears his throat and sounds a little like he's gonna choke up a hairball, and you turn to look at him with this absolutely horrified look on your face. There's a moment where you stare at each other- him, fist against his mouth, trying to come up with something to say and dying inside a bit, and you just trying to figure out what this guy, who looks like a Guns N' Roses reject, is doing in your dad's church.

Eddie finally collects himself enough to say, "I, uh. I like your necklace."

You look down at the rosary in your hands, and you giggle. "Thanks, but, uh... they're prayer beads. It's... really bad form to wear them as a necklace, actually."

Eddie feels stupid. "Oh, right."

Bless him, you can tell that he's trying. He also looks immeasurably uncomfortable to be there, and like he wasn't sure how to even dress- Wayne wouldn't let him wear the battle vest or the leather jacket or a band shirt, so he's sporting no outerwear and a plain black shirt and black jeans.

The rings are still on, though. You motion to them. "I like your cross."

He smiles at you prettily. "I like yours. What prayers do you say with the beads?"

You manage to explain most of how to pray the rosary to Eddie by the time your father steps up to the podium to start his sermon, and the entire time Eddie’s staring at you like you’re something precious. And that's pretty much how it begins.

Now, Eddie's not going to keep coming to church just to talk to you. He's a little selfish in that he's not gonna bore the shit out of himself for a couple words from you every Sunday. He's not religious, and he won't pretend to be for your sake.

It's okay. You like it that he's not religious.

He sees you in town. Goes out of his way to bump into you when you're running errands, more like- in the grocery store, walking out of the hair salon, going to the library. He tries to be as helpful as he can, opening doors and carrying your books and bags and such.

(He cornered Mrs. Walker, who invited him and Wayne to church in the first place, and asked her very pointed questions about you. She sang like a canary. He finds out your dad is the pastor of the church, and that makes it even worse. It makes him want you worse.)

You always look so cute and proper, your hair done up all nice and your outfits neat and tidy. He can't help it. He wants to ruin you.

He doesn't recognize you from school, so he takes the opportunity to ask you one day when he crosses paths with you. "I go- went- to Our Lady Of Peace in Indianapolis. Graduated last year, though."

Be still his beating heart. An all-girls private school.

To his pleasure, he discovers that you're something of a flirt, in your own way. You're quick to give him a gentle ribbing or start preaching at him, "did you read your bible quotes today, Munson? Say your Hail Marys?" although there's no real weight to your words. Sometimes he wonders if you’re really as religious as all that, or if it’s just for appearances to make your father happy.

You could just be a bit of a brat, but he'll figure it out eventually.

What makes him finally lose all composure, though, is the day he sees you coming out of Circle K while he's smoking outside of it. Y'know, like you do during the summer in Hawkins, Indiana.

He's not.. he's not spying on you, no siree. Just because you happen to exit the gas station with a slushie in one hand and a bunch of grocery bags in the other, while he's flat on his ass on the curb beside the ice freezer, does not mean he's spying on you. 

You're wearing this sweet white number with purple flowers on it, a scooping neckline and a skirt that hits just below your fingertips. Very fetching, but still modest for the summer of '86. Until a breeze blows.

Your hands are too full to catch your skirt in time, and a little squeak leaves you when your skirt blows up a bit, Marilyn Monroe-style. Eddie glances up as he takes a puff of his cigarette, and gets a full view of your bare ass, no panties in sight. And he nearly sucks his entire cigarette into the back of his throat.

What. On God's green Earth.

His voice is already shaking by the time he manages to quit coughing long enough to say your name, and you whirl around, looking like you've just been caught at the devil's sacrament or something.

"Eddie. Did you-? What are you doing down there?"

"Taking in the view." He points across the street. There's a cow grazing in a field. Good ol’ Hawkins scenery. "Need help with those bags?"

And that's how he gets you into his car.

Now, Wayne has done very well to raise Eddie as a gentleman. That's not to say Eddie isn't still a pervert, because of course he is, but he doesn't proposition you immediately.

He waits for the tension to get unbearable. And then he propositions you.

Your skirt rides up your thighs, drawing his eyes toward you more than the road. He wants his head to be between them more than anything, knowing fully well that you have nothing on beneath that little scrap of fabric. You keep staring at his fingers on the steering wheel, the way his clunky rings tap on the metal, the way the tendons in his wrist flex when he tightens his grip.

You catch each other looking at the same time. His smirk turns absolutely devilish.

"You really want to go home, sweetheart?"

You tell him to pull into the church parking lot. Mostly because you know the church is empty right now and there's some tree cover around it, but also because it's just so damn filthy. All the things you want to do to him, all the pent up sexual frustration, and you have this beautiful boy in the car beside you, all to yourself. You can hardly contain yourself.

Eddie barely gets the car in park before you're sliding across the seat and swinging your leg over his lap. He can feel the damp heat of your wet cunt pressed against the fabric of his jeans, and he nearly creams himself right there. Your lips are on his and he can taste the cherry flavor of your slushie on your tongue, the coolness of it from the ice almost refreshing in the summer heat.

He's wanted this for weeks. He didn't figure you'd be the one to kiss him first.

"Not such a good little Christian girl, are you?" His voice is hard, but his hands are soft when they slide under your skirt and cup your bare ass. "What would daddy think?"

You whimper. You really don't want to be thinking about your dad right now, because it just reminds you how wrong all of this is. How you ran into the ladies' room to take off your panties and shove them into your purse as soon as you saw Eddie outside the Circle K. How guilty you're probably going to feel after all of this raw heat and tension is over-

But then Eddie rocks you against him, and the feeling of his stiff cock grinding up against your bare cunt through his jeans has all thought of regret and guilt flying out of your head

"See what you do to me, dirty girl? Going around with no panties on under this skirt. What if someone saw you, huh?"

Someone did see you. That's why you're here.

He lets you kiss him, grind against him, as much as you want. And you'll admit, you're starved for it. Not a lot of hard-ons to rub up against in an all-girls school, and ever since you graduated you feel like you've been under lock and key. You just need so badly to let go, even for just an afternoon.

When Eddie finally pulls his cock out of his pants, you’re practically panting into his mouth. Your hands twisting the front of his shirt in your fists, you can barely stop rocking against him long enough for him to drag his length through your dripping folds.

“Christ, how are you so wet?” Eddie hisses, his hips bucking as he tries to position you properly.

“Language,” you have the presence of mind to whimper, a weak reminder of where you are. Though, the sound of him swearing only gets you more turned on. 

He scoffs. “You expect me to believe you care about that? Look at what you’re doing, sweetheart.” 

His cock stretches you so wide. It’s not your first time- which was painful, and awkward, and the exact opposite of sexy in any sense- but heaven help it if it isn’t the best you’ve ever felt. Your eyes fall to where you’re joined, skin flush against skin, your cunt wrapped around him and welcoming him even further. 

You want to move. You have to move. It’s the only thing that’s right.

“Eddie,” you whisper, your voice sounding too strained and weak in your throat. Your hands shake, tugging at his shirt. Your face burns. You want him naked. You want to feel his skin against yours. 

“It’s okay, baby, you’re doing so good for me,” he coos softly, gazing up at you with wide, dark eyes as he pulls you closer to his chest. His hand strokes across your face, a soothing touch to calm your overwhelmed system. “Have you said your prayers today?”

You open your mouth, but all that comes out is a rush of breath when he rocks you forward against him, his cock brushing up against something impossibly soft and sensitive inside you. 

“You better say them, sweetheart,” Eddie encourages gently, his hand leaving your face to reach for your purse, on the seat beside him. His fingers latch around pearlescent beads, dragging them slowly out of the bag. “Just to be on the safe side, hm?”

A pair of pink panties comes tumbling out of the bag, snagged on the crucifix at the end of your pretty rosary. Eddie smirks, snatching them up before you notice what he’s found.

You’re too focused on the feeling, starting to rock on his lap so that his pubes grind up against your clit, searching for some sort of stimulation because he won’t move. Truthfully, it’s not because he’s lazy, it’s because Eddie wants to watch you use him. He’s getting off on the thought that you’ve been dying for it just as much as he has. He likes seeing you so desperately needy, taking your pleasure from him and working yourself on him, when you’ve been trying to appear like an innocent little good girl all this time. 

You don’t feel the string of beads until they’re digging into your skin, the loop thrown over your head and wound around your neck. Eddie’s clutching them, pulling you down against his lips by the chain of pearls. 

“Eddie,” you whimper, your hands clawing up to cup his jaw. “Not a necklace. Bad form.”

“Bad form?” he parrots at you, rolling his hips up to meet yours. You both moan in tandem, and his hand slides up the chain of pearls to tighten it around your throat like a choker. “Bad form to be riding my cock in a church parking lot, angel.”

You think you could die right here, but you don’t know which way you’d be going after the fact. 

“Go on, baby,” Eddie says lovingly, lifting the crucifix to your lips as if he isn’t tightening the chain around your neck with his other hand. “Show me how you pray. I think I’ve got a lot to learn.”

Your breath doesn’t want to come into your lungs, stuttering across your lips when he hitches you up by the hips and tugs you back down onto him. You grasp the crucifix with a shaky hand, closing your eyes as if it’ll make what you’re doing any less sinful. 

“Our Father, who art in Heaven-” a whine punches from your chest when he thrusts his hips up into yours. “Hallowed… hallowed be thy n-name..? Thy kingdom come, thy will be done. On Earth, as it is in Heaven.”

“My god,” Eddie whispers, and you have the mind to smack him. He listens to you recite the prayer to the end, fingers stroking the crucifix at the end of the chain like you’ve fallen into the routine of it. It comes as second nature once you begin, not even really focusing on the words as they come. 

You move your finger to the first bead on the chain. “Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee- shit! ”

Eddie laughs at your slip-up, but the only reason that you do is because he’s turning you, your legs thrown across the dashboard and over the back of the front seat of the van as he settles on top of you. Your purse digs uncomfortably into your lower back, creating a bend in your spine where you otherwise would be laying flat. 

He sinks his cock back into your wet cunt, gliding with ease and reaching the very end of you. The moan that you make is guttural, an animalistic noise unleashing from the back of your throat. 

“Keep going, sweetheart,” he prompts softly, but his voice is shaky and his eyes are dark and wide. His finger comes up to twist the chain of pearly beads around his knuckle, bringing it to his lips as he gazes into your eyes. “Hail Mary, full of grace…”

“The L-lord is with thee…?” You reach up, your fingers skimming Eddie’s lips where it touches the beads. You fumble over your words, but manage to finish the prayer. You manage to finish it three times over, actually, while he pumps his cock inside you with thrusts that rock the car. If anyone were to even take a glance at the van, it would be obvious to them what’s taking place inside, and the thought makes your toes curl. 

“Oh, Eddie, I can’t take it.” Your voice is breathy, whiny, the words burning in your throat. You’re so close to coming, it’s right there, and he just won’t stop. 

“You can take it, baby, I know you can,” he insists, his hand coming up to grab the windowsill above your head. Eddie’s eyes flutter shut, his hips grinding up against yours so perfectly that you make a small squeak in the back of your throat, and all your muscles lock down around him. 

Eddie curses against the touch of your finger and the pearl on his lips, and he pulls his hips back just at the last split second. Hot cum spills across your cunt and onto your thighs, your hips bucking up to try to find his again. 

You drop your head back, eyes screwed shut to stave off the frustrated tears that want to bubble out. God, you were so close. So close. He couldn’t have lasted one more second?

Eddie huffs a breath, glancing down at your face. He knows with just a look where you’re at, what you’re too shy to voice. You didn’t come. And Eddie Munson is, first and foremost, a gentleman. 

Perverted, yes. But a gentleman. 

“Eddie, wh-?” You nearly jump as he sinks his body down between your legs, cramming himself back against the driver’s side door. 

“Made a mess of you, sweetheart,” he says simply. “And you look so pretty like this, but m’gonna clean you up.”

His tongue licks deeply, like he’s searching through you for every drop of arousal and cum he can find. He avoids your clit, though, and you can tell it’s a conscious decision, because he refuses to go where your hands tug him. 

Eddie feels you getting desperate, hips lurching against his face and your hands pulling relentlessly at his long hair. He gazes up at you from between your thighs, half obscured by the skirt of your dress that’s bunched up around your middle in a giant white and purple cloud. 

“Being so good for me, angel. You got one more to do, see?” He reaches up, pinching the last isolated bead on your rosary before the medallion. “You can say one more for me, can’t you?”

You suck in a short breath, your fingers falling to caress the pearl in his. “Glory be… to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit.”

Eddie lowers his head. He licks a long line up your thigh, cleaning off a thick smear of his cum as he goes, leaving a trail of saliva in his wake. Your breath stutters in your chest, because he meets your gaze as he does, and his eyes are black as sin.

“As it was in the beginning, it is now, and ever shall be,” your words come out rushed and hollow. His breath hits your swollen cunt, pulsing and needy for him. “World without end.”

His lips wrap around your clit, and he sucks hard. All the air in your lungs rushes out at once, your hands latching onto the back of the seat and the A/C vent beside your head, trying to hold yourself in place when you come. 

It’s devastating. Your head arches backwards, and without thinking, you cry out, “OH FUCK!”

“Amen to that,” Eddie chuckles, sending waves of vibration through your shuddering limbs. His tongue caresses every inch of you, until there’s not a drop of cum (his or yours) for him to clean up. He takes his time with it, far longer than it takes for you to finish orgasming against his face, until you’re beyond overstimulated and every pass of his tongue over you makes you fidget. 

He touches your clit with his tongue one last time, and you jerk away from him so suddenly that he laughs, and pats your thigh soothingly. “I think we’re done.”

You hum, running your fingers through soft strands of his hair. The air in the car smells like sex and sweat, the windows long fogged up. You lay like that in comfortable silence; your legs wrapped around the middle of his torso, and his head fit comfortably in the dip between your breasts. 

(His legs have fallen asleep where they’re jammed awkwardly down into the hollow beneath the steering wheel, but he won’t mention it to you. He doesn’t want to get up yet.)

He listens to your heartbeat for a very long time, so long that something occurs to him that… definitely should have occurred to him before he fucked you. He thinks he knows the answer, but he can never be too sure. “Was that your first time?”

You blink your eyes open, your fingers pausing in their route through his hair. You’re trying to gauge his tone of voice. He sounds nothing but… hesitant. Hesitant to ask the question, and hesitant to know the answer. 

“No,” you tell him honestly, and he visibly relaxes. He can’t help it. His eyes fall shut, a long breath escaping through his nose and tickling across your chest. “Why- did you sleep with me because you thought I was a virgin?”

“No! No.” He picks his head up, and he looks so serious. “I didn’t. Honestly, it doesn’t… I don’t mind either way. But I just figured, y’know. If that had been your first time, and I’d known, I, uh- I mean, I would’ve been more gentle about it.”

“You mean you wouldn’t have used my rosary as a leash?”

He laughs at that. “Yeah, I wouldn’t have… and there would have been a bed. And rose petals. And candles.”

“Sounds nice,” you hum thoughtfully. “Could still do it.”

Eddie’s heart warms in his chest. “Better late than never, right?”

“Well, how else am I gonna test what you learned today?” You watch his eyes widen when you grab the string of pearls and pull the loop over your head, and lower it over his. “I hope you were paying attention.”

Eddie grins. He knew you would be a brat.

[tomboyjessie13]

Medea's room, DIO's Mansion Early February, 1988

18-year-old Medea was sitting on a windowsill, overlooking the city of Cairo and the mansion's garden. She had just finished today's shift and is waiting for T. D'Arby to finish making dinner.

Medea: ....*Sighs*.... *Hears knocking* Yeah?

Kenny G: *Enters the room with a package* Mariah got a package addressed to you at her apartment, she says it's from California.

Medea: *Surprised* Oh? *Gets up and walks to him*

Kenny G: I think it maybe from your folks. *Gives her the box*

Medea: Thanks, Kenny, oh and tell Mariah thanks for getting my package to.

Kenny G: No prob, also dinner would be ready in a half hour, we're having grilled salmon. *Leaves the room*

Medea: Cool....*Goes to her bed to sit down on it and puts the package down, she then grabs a box cutter from her drawer* What's in the box? *She cuts the tape and opens the box, she sees that it's her old things from home and a postcard with a picture of Morro Rock on it* ......... *Takes the card and reads it, it says:*

"Dear, Medea

Your father and I had heard that you ran away from Ireland and were worried about what has happened to you, we're relieved to learn that you're currently residing in Cairo, safe and sound. We understand how hard it is for you to be away from home and you might hate us for sending you away. But please don't, we only did it because we love you very much and wanted to protect you. This package is full of your belongings that you left behind, we thought that we could at least bring a little bit of California to you. Please write to us soon, we miss you and hope to see you again someday.

Love, mother"

Medea: *Saddened*...... "Safe and sound", huh?.... right....*Reaches into the box and pulls out her things: a baseball with mitt and bat, a record player and some vinyls, her favorite movies, a photo of herself and her parents, a California state flag, a teddy bear wearing a purple bow tie, and several books, specifically a blue book holding her baseball card collection, some books of different cultures' histories and mythologies, and a light green scrap book* Hm?.... *She gets comfortable on her bed and starts looking through it*....

[Molly]: *Appears and sits next to her* Kiru kiru....

Medea: *Sees one photo of herself as a baby in her the kitchen sink, then sees another as a toddler at an amusement park, then herself as a kid at a karate tournament, these photos made her smile*.... *Then she sees a photo of herself as a kid at the beach looking for seashells, then herself as a pre-teen helping her mom with the baking, then herself as a 13-year-old at her first baseball game with her dad* He he he.... **She turns the page, and what she saw made her frown: it was photos of Jason and her former classmates* .... *She sees of her and her "friends" at a slumber party, another of Jason's birthday, and then her's and Jason's science project*.... *....*turns the page, she sees photos of her's, Jason's, and her "friends"' Middle School graduation, then a photo of her and Jason watching the sunset, then of her and Jason at the arcade* ....tch.

[Molly]: *Looks at Medea worryingly* Kiru?

Medea: *She turns another page and sees more photos of her, Jason, and her "friends", becoming more angry and agitated the more she sees them, like her first day of Catholic High School, her first date with Jason, their Junior dance, a girls' day out, Jason's first facial hair, her baseball league, Jason and herself in a photo booth, her "friends" at a cafe, Jason, Jason, her "friends", Jason, her "friends", her "friends", Jason, most the the photos in the scrap book is just filled with Jason Lennon and her so-called "friends" who left her and abandoned her, even when she's in the right.*

[Molly]: *Tries to touch her shoulder* ....

Medea: *She snapped and throws her scrap book down on the ground* RAAAAAGH! *She jumps out of bed and starts stomping on it multiple times* GAH! YOU BASTARDS! YOU LYING, CHEATING, BACKSTABBING BASTARDS! I LOST EVERYTHING BECAUSE OF YOU! *She then gets on the ground and starts tearing all the photos of Jason and her "friends" out of the scrap book before shredding them to pieces by hand into a pile of photographed confetti*

[Molly]: *Watches her with a sad look on their face* :-(

Medea: *She then tore out the last photo* NGH!.... *But before she can tear it apart, she stopped when she looked at the contents of it: It was of her and Jason's discovery of a ancient mural in California, depicting the Pillar Men, this made her remember things...*

~Flashback - 5 years ago~

Abandoned cave - Santa Barbara, California Summer, 1983

There was an old Californian cave near Santa Barbara's campsite, surrounded by a chain link fence with a sign that read: "PRIVATE PROPERTY: DO NOT ENTER". A pair of 13-year-old kids; Medea and Jason, carrying their camping gear, walked up to the fence to climb it. On the other side, a younger Medea was looking at the cave's mouth.

Medea: So, this is the place?

Jason: Yep, my dad's been over seeing it for a while whenever he's called upon.

Medea: By whom?

Jason: The Speedwagon Foundation.

Medea: *Shocked* Your dad works for the SPW?

Jason: Sometimes, he's mostly a regular doctor but does get called by New York's SPW for medical assistance. Our family moved to California because he got transferred to Los Angeles' SPW.

Medea: Guess that explains why you're so well off.

Jason: *Takes out a lantern from his bag* Back on topic, i've been to this place last year when my dad got called, the SPW were in the middle of excavating the cave.

Medea: Excavating what? A Hispanic catacomb?

Jason: No, just some old artifacts that proves the existence of, oh I don't know: the Pillar Men? ;-)

Medea: .......... *Gasps* Are you freaking kidding me!? There's remnants of their culture here!?

Jason: California's one of those states that used to be part of Mexico, and these guys were once huge in Mesoamerica, so yeah.

Medea: *Happy squealing* I have to see the remnants now!

Jason: *Turns on the lantern* Alright, hold your horses. *Stands up* These are old caverns, we don't wanna hurt ourselves over it. *Sets up watch* Besides, we have an hour and a half to get back to the campsite before dad gets notices we're missing.

Medea: ....Right. *Hold's Jason's hand* You lead the way.

Jason: *Nods* Hm. *He takes her inside the cave*

Several minutes later

They were walking down a chiseled-out staircase, and the air was getting colder and damp.

Medea: *Shivered* Brrrr....

Jason: *Shivered*.... Shoot.... I forgot how cold this cave is.

Medea: *Sees some power tools and wooden crates at the bottom* So the SPW was down here. *Walks forward*

Jason: That means were almost here. *Follows behind, he then sees Medea's hair moved on it's own* Hm? Did your hair just moved?

Medea: *Felt that, she realizes her Stand appears to hug her from behind* ....It seems [Molly] got scared.

Jason: Well tell your "faerie" friend to calm down, there's nothing down here.

Medea: *Nodding* It's going to be fine, [Molly]. *She continues down the dark cavern, just then she sees a piece of stone that has something on it* .... Holy c- Jason, look at this!.... There's scriptures on these stones! This wasn't written by the SPW, wasn't it?

Jason: Nope, it was there when they first found it. See the letters? They're ancient runes.

Medea: *Takes out her camera* Ohhh that's so sick! *Takes a photo of it*

Jason: You better not let dad see the photos, he'd kill me if he found out I let you in here.

Medea: *Shaking photo* Don't worry, I'm putting these in my journal.... *Sees something* Is that?....*Goes to an old sculpture of a very tall man.* ....Look at the size of this guy, he's taller than a basketball player! *Takes a photo of it* And the design of the statue looks like it's made by the Olmecs!

Jason: Older than that, my friend. The Pillar Men are said to have lived long before human history was recorded, they possessed godlike power and had a prosperous civilization underground.

Medea: *Gasps happily* Just like in my studies! :-D *Takes out her journal*....There's so many stories that proves their existence during the 2nd world war, but none give a full picture of who they really were back in the day. *Puts the photos inside* Much is still unknown about them....

Jason: That's just the tip of the iceberg, what I wanted you to see is right up ahead in that hall full of statues. *Goes there*

Medea: Oh goodie! *Follows behind, in the hall she sees more statues of several Pillar Men and women, they all seem to have the same expression that made [Molly] scared: despair.* ........Hm....

Jason: *Stops* We're here....

Medea: *Looks ahead and sees they're in a room with a wall that's covered head to toe in murals, this made her speechless*....No way.... *She takes the lantern from Jason and goes to the mural* .... The written histories of Pre-Columbian America.... include stories of a great war fought long ago. It was a conflict between a once thriving civilization and someone only ever referred to as "the Usurper"... Is it possible? *Walks to the end of the murals* Do these murals depict the same legend? *Stops at the first mural, which depicts several Pillar Men in the center and deceased prehistoric animals underneath.* This is similar to the statues we saw earlier--the Pillar Men. And these figures look like dinosaurs.

Jason: That's right, this depiction suggests that the Pillar Men were born shortly after the extinction event that wiped out these animals....

Medea: *Sees something in the second mural that caught her eye and goes to it, this mural depicts a few Pillar Men standing proudly while a human chief bows to them.* It is said that Mesoamerica's ancient ancestors once revered and worshipped their own deites as gods. These murals tell a similar story, and if they are accurate, then the gods mentioned were the Pillar Men... They must have made contact with the humans of that time, with their immorality and technological prowess becoming one of the bases of Mesoamerica's ancient civilizations... including the Olmecs and the Aztecs. *Then looks over to the third mural, which depicts a long-haired man creating a face made out of stone.* This figure... He seems to be creating a stone artifact that's said to give people terrifying abilities. This all aligns with what i've read during my studies.

Jason: *Points at the last mural* And check this out... It shows "the Usurper"!... And a fierce battle against him...

Medea: *Sees the mural depicts "the Usurper" and "his Partner" fighting against the other Pillar Men to the brink of extinction* If the creature depicted here really does represent "the Usurper", then... Incredible! This mural must be the mythical war recorded in South America's histories! This is the birth of the Pillar Men, and the rise and fall of their entire civilization! *She becomes excited as she turns to Jason* Oh Jason! This is the best thing you ever showed me!

Jason: *Raises hands* Surprise! :-D

Medea: *Gives Jason the lantern and journal, she then takes her camera out* Oh man! These are going right into my scrap book! And with what I've learned, i'll be getting an A at Spanish class for sure! *Clicks camera at the murals* I can't believe the SPW tried to hide these! *Takes the photo out and starts shaking it, only to stop when she sees a bunch of rocks covering the rest of the wall*...Hm?...That's weird, the rest of the mural is blocked...

Jason: Yeah the SPW's been trying to bust these rocks down for a while now.

Medea: *Puts the photo in her journal* Well, whatever the case, I'm happy with the discovery. Thank you so much for bringing me here.

Jason: I thought you'd like it since you're all about archeology. *Points at the camera* One more for the scrap book?

Medea: Hm? *Eyes sparkle* Oh yes! *She sets up the camera and points it at the two and the mural behind them* Smileeeee! ^o^ *Clicks camera*

~Flashback ends~

Medea: *Looking at the photo with tears in her eyes* ..........*Wipes her eyes dry*

[Molly]: *Grabs Medea's shoulders and starts rubbing them*

Medea: *Sniffles*......... *Takes the box cutter and started slicing out Jason from the photo without destroying the rest of it* Get the matches and newspaper.

[Molly]: *Does so* Kiru.

Medea: *She shoves a old newspaper page in a nearby trash bin, then grabs a handful of all the shredded photos of Jason and her ex-friends and puts them all in the trash with the newspaper until it's all cleaned up, then adds another layer of newspaper on top. She lights the match and throws it in the trash, lighting the newspaper on fire, thus destroying the shredded photos*................ I don't blame mom and dad for this, I just wished they looked into the scrap book before sending me the package.

[Molly]: *Nods* Kiru kiru.

Medea: *Watches the trash bin burning until the flames started dying, leaving nothing but burning ash in there* ....

T. D'Arby: *Knocking on the door* Oh Medeaaaa~ time for dinner~

Medea: I'll be down in a minute! *Takes her water bottle and puts out what's left of the fire, opens the window to help fan out the smoke, and dries her face before leaving. As she did, the last photo of her and Jason, after getting burnt, slowly snapped into two and crumbled into ash*

END

The flashback scene is based off the opening scene from "Tears of the Kingdom"

(Beginning - 9:27)

[bllsbailey]

Biden Declares That He Is The 'First Black Woman To Serve With A Black President' 😆

President Joe Biden speaks to supporters during a campaign rally at Sherman Middle School on July 05, 2024 in Madison, Wisconsin.

In an attempt to reassure voters that he is still qualified for presidential office, President Joe Biden misrepresented himself once more when he publicly claimed to be the “first Black woman to serve with a Black president.”

A week after his disastrous debate performance, the 81-year-old president made the embarrassing error while trying to find the appropriate words during an appearance on Philadelphia’s WURD radio station on Thursday as part of an Independence Day media spotlight.

As he talked about having been the vice president under former President Barack Obama and then selecting Kamala Harris as his own, Biden seemed to mix up his words again.

“By the way, I’m proud to be, as I said, the first vice president, [the] first black woman to serve with a black president,” he told radio host Andrea Lawful-Sanders.

Biden had previously boasted in the interview about having chosen Kamala Harris, the first Black woman to be vice president, and he also highlighted choosing Ketanji Brown Jackson, the first Black woman to be appointed to the Supreme Court.

While informing the host that he understood the racial significance of Jackson’s U.S. Supreme Court nomination for “a young girl who is in school and having trouble,” Biden made the comparison.

However, the second comment regarding Jackson came off as racist to many social media users who posted about it.

“Biden assumes that Ketanji Brown Jackson was a young girl ‘having trouble in school’ because she’s Black? Yikes,” said one X (Twitter) user.

Additionally, the gaffe was just one of many errors and blunders that Biden expressed in the interview, which sought to reassure Americans that his disastrous debate performance was an isolated incident.

Biden also made the strange claim that he was the “first president that got elected statewide in the state of Delaware when I was a kid.”

At another point, he asserted that he understood the “Black struggle” for representation because, before John F. Kennedy was elected into office more than 60 years ago, he believed that Catholics could not become president.

“I looked at John Kennedy and said, ‘Well, he — John — he got elected. Why can’t I get elected?’” Biden said. “People need things to look up to.”

However, Ammar Moussa, a spokesman for Biden’s reelection campaign, swiftly chastised the media for drawing attention to the president’s latest mistakes.

— Ammar Moussa (@ammarmufasa) July 5, 2024

Stay informed! Receive breaking news blasts directly to your inbox for free. Subscribe here. https://www.oann.com/alerts

[gremlinwithakeyboard]

I feel the urge to ramble about my asexual/aromantic OCs because why the heck not.

Casey - aroace enby who probably has adhd because self insert lmao. Their aroaceness is probably the least relevant thing to their story.

Eleni/Lenny - Asexual or demisexual, not sure what specific romantic orientation but girls are included. *dumps all my OCD troubles on her cutely*

Neve - either somewhere on the aroace spectrum or just is not attracted to human adjacent people by virtue of being a fairy. Probably both.

Tiffany - aroace emo magical girl who, thanks to a mixup on the rather dumb contractor's end, is saddled with the standard pink frilly outfit and wields the power of love! Whoops.

Evan & Will - two bros chilling in a world of assassination, 5 feet apart 'cause they're platonic life partners :3

Violet & Jess - hopeless aromantic steel type trainer and her socially awkward QPR partner who also happens to be able to teleport

Aidan/Infrared Mask - he is a gremlin who copes with his problems by fighting monsters and trolling everyone and I love him so much. Also somewhere on the aro/ace spec.

Audrey - ace lesbian who can do arson with her pyrokinesis but prefers not to because Trauma. Later after designing her and her Catholic school related backstory I realized with her green and red colour scheme I could claim she had apple motifs lmao

Harley - arospec sapphic of some sort. former popstar whose emotion manipulation powers caused a riot at a concert. they are doing better these days but still doesnt perform on stage. she has her friend/possibly girlfriend to do that!

Lina - aegosexual/romantic. the kind of aroace who writes the most deranged things. still recovering from her true crime phase, as is anyone who saw her fanfiction from that time

Tori - grey ace/aro. best friends with Irene. enjoys music, is an aspiring engineer and can also just ignore the laws of gravity.

Irene - demisexual/romantic. can turn invisible. weeb. best friends with Tori. Maybe they'll become romantically involved, maybe not

Nico - aromantic straight guy. Irene's dad. Travels the world but is still good friends with Irene's mum. only realized There Was A Word For That when his daughter came out. Still only told a few people for fear of being thought of as weird and creepy

Then also most of my OCs are kind of because once again I am aroace lmao

[ladyblueberrymuffin]

That's the thing, it's so weird a lot movies made today are reboots when every original movie is kind of a 'reboot' already? It's just that you're ignoring it, because it doesn't have the name of the thing you like, but that's stupid, because you don't like the thing you like for it's name or external appearance, you like it for the substance.

You mash different things together, and add pieces of yourself along the way.

I would like to use my favorite book as an example. Beautiful Creatures is definitely not as popular as Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, or Hunger Games, and if you even heard of it, chances are you probably know it as that one weird Twilight rip-off Alden Erenreich starred in before he became a popular actor. But that's the thing, it is actually kinda freaking great? And a great example for this exercise.

I think what I love about it, is that you can tell the authors Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl were nerds like us when growing up in the 80s. Kami Garcia has stated that Harrison Ford was her crush when she was younger, and Margaret Stohl is a huge Han and Leia shipper, and you can tell. Years before Ereinreich became Solo, he already kinda was playing a character inspired by Ford, with this snarky small town boy, who seems gruff but is actually really sweet and tender, and is actually really funny and gets beaten up a lot.

And then the main girl? She's this sweet, but feisty girl, also quite snarky when she wants to be, but the authors aren't afraid to make her vulnerable too. They have a sorta antagonistic relationship at first, because she doesn't trust him, and her father figure, named Mr. Ravenwood might I add, hates the boy's guts, because he trusts him even less with his beloved adopted daughter. She has black hair and green eyes. She's Marion Ravenwood! It's Indiana Jones as a fantasy high school drama! Without the problematic age gap. They did the thing all those Disney remakes want to do, but fail because the problematic elements are kinda baked into the narrative.

Let's also not ignore that Kami Garcia has said that she would love to write characters from The Craft, and the main girl is a witch with green eyes, who's kind of a girl next door, who's antisocial, kinda depressed, and heaven help you if you endanger her, her friends or her family, because she can be ruthless. When I finally watched the Craft I was flabbergasted by how much Sarah Bailey reminds me of this character, to the point I actually looked into if the authors have seen the movie, and sure enough, they did. A big deal in the book is made of the fact that when she uses her magic her hair starts billowing in the wind, and she can cause storms and lightning strikes, which is very reminiscent of the epilogue of The Craft, where Sarah shows that she still has magic powers and scares off her bitter ex-friends. The element of former best friend becoming a dangerous rival is also present, with a redemption arc at that, something The Craft fans have often expressed Nancy deserved.

Also, the whole thing feels a lot like the Phoenix Saga. The fact that our main girl might become insanely powerful and turn evil is a big part of her character arc. And the book once again kinda improves on the inspiration by subverting this trope of "Woman with power become evil". The whole point of her arc is learning to accept the parts of her that are 'dark'. It's okay to break the rules sometimes, it's okay to feel angry, it's okay to not be nice to everyone. It's a very relatable arc if you grew up catholic. It's kind of a bold moral for a book written in 2009.

It's just cool seeing all these elements that combine into a bigger whole. It's really inspiring to see that professional writers are also just huge nerds like us, and their books are basically kinda crossover high school AUs of the stuff they grew up watching.

Nothing is technically stopping you from writing your own MCU reboot, or Transformers series. Change some stuff around, make the characters your own, and voila.

[dankusner]

The new memoir traces the life of a girl who grew into a woman trying to understand her sociopathy, which today is often labeled as antisocial personality disorder.

Gagne knew early that she was different, fighting an apathy that could spark an anxiousness that provoked destructive outbursts.

She mimicked the emotions she lacked to fit into a world where novels and films tended to depict sociopaths as violent and soulless transgressors treading the fringes.

“Lying kept me safe. I was sliding under the radar,” Gagne, 48, said.

In an overview of antisocial personality disorder, the Cleveland Clinic states that it “affects an estimated 1% to 4% of adults in the U.S.”; 4% of the current population is about 13.7 million.

“There’s nothing inherently immoral about having limited access to your emotions,” Gagne said. “Not all sociopaths are dangerous criminals. They’re not going to be easy to spot. They’re not going to be stereotypical monsters. You could be sleeping next to one. You could have, in fact, birthed one.”

A master of interior disguise, Gagne is married with two children and has settled into a well-to-do conformity.

She is a former therapist with a doctorate in clinical psychology.

Her yearslong mission has been to, as she puts it, demystify and humanize a condition that has been “misappropriated to cover all manner of sin.” “I find neurotypical people fascinating. You guys are like ice skaters. All of these colorful emotions,” Gagne said. “These little things you do. I could watch it all day. I don’t want to be an ice skater, but I really find it fascinating. In much the same way that neurotypical people find me fascinating. I’m not envious of it. But you guys have more pieces on the chess board than I do.”

Gagne said she is grateful not to possess some of those pieces, notably guilt and shame, which she sees in her Catholic-raised husband.

“It seems,” she said, “like a very heavy and unnecessary burden.”

The daughter of a music industry executive, Gagne lived in Florida before moving to Los Angeles to attend UCLA.

Her impulses flared.

She’d break into a house and sit in the quiet — stealing nothing — and then vanish into the night, her apathy jolted by an unlawful act that would calm her brain.

She stole cars, joy riding for hours and later returning the vehicle, sometimes putting gas in the tank, a consideration she called a “karmic adjustment.”

It was, in her telling, the thrill she craved, which was easily found in a city accustomed to reinvention and experimentation.

She attended classes at UCLA — later earning a PhD from the California Graduate Institute of the Chicago School of Professional Psychology — and after graduation worked as a talent manager for her father’s company.

The memoir offers an evocative glimpse of the music business, but, like much of the book, relies on pseudonyms, composite characters and long stretches of reconstructed conversations.

The prose moves and the dialogue is sharp, but as in the case with Max, a star musician whose real identity is withheld, Gagne expects more than a degree of trust from the reader.

Kirkus Reviews noted that “the narrative itself, which relies heavily on conventions from the romance and thriller genres, has a markedly fantastical quality, and what emerges often seems to favor vivid storytelling and self-aggrandizement over honest introspection. … Though the book is marketed as a memoir, it reads very much like a work of fiction.”

Gagne said her intent was to protect the privacy of characters by not naming them, noting the flashes of criminality described in her story.

“I’ve lived a very colorful life, and in the editing process, the more colorful stories rose to the surface,” she said, adding that the original manuscript was about 200,000 words. “I can understand how someone reading this might have that opinion where this just seems to fit together too perfectly.”

Much of the story tracks the often tempestuous relationship with her husband, David, a technology consultant.

They met when she was a girl at summer camp and reconnected years later in Los Angeles.

His was an enduring love, even as revelations about her disorder, including urges to break into houses, multiplied.

“Why do you have a lock-picking kit?” he once asked her.

David often felt irrelevant — that he cared about the relationship and she didn’t — and wanted things she could not give.

Over time, and, again, through counseling, she said, their bond deepened and they had two children.

Gagne said she has come far from the 9-year-old with uneven bangs on the book’s cover, the one who secretly stole a barrette from a friend’s hair and would later quote Oscar Wilde — “Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.”

But she still relates to that long-ago child: “I see myself in her. I know that stare. I know what you’re thinking, kid. I gotcha,” she said. “No one is empathizing with me. However, I can empathize with that little kid.”