#men are better than women in every single way and there’s nothing we can do about it besides warn young girls of the suffering of womanhood

[pwurrz]

of course terfs would get mad at a post reminding them that there’s more to being a woman than misery and suffering: they’re misogynists. they hate women. their misogyny is just the ‘woke’ kind where they re-enforce the idea that women are weaker and stupider and generally less capable compared to men but like, in a ‘feminist’ way 🤪💅

when you hate women and genuinely believe they are inferior, that they are lesser, it’s impossible to see that there’s any joy or pride or anything positive about being a woman. especially if you yourself are a woman who believes in this kind of self-deprecating mindset.

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 1)

@lanfear-is-my-darkmistress

You are a profiler for the FBI when you get called to help catch a serial killer in Westview. (Killing Eve/Hannibal AU)

Word count: 4200

Warnings: descriptions of violence, fear

The phone rings at 7:30 in the morning on your day off and you want to throw it against the wall. 

You had been sleeping – having a very good dream, actually – when the harsh ringtone roughly jolts you out of your slumber. 

“Hello?” you answer groggily, rubbing your face with your hand. If it’s a spam call, you think you might lose your mind. 

“Is this Agent Y/L/N?” A gruff voice asks and you shoot up out of bed into the sitting position. 

You clear your throat and try to sound professional. “Um, yes, this is she. Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Director Hayward,” the man says, and your eyes widen. The head of the FBI is calling you. “Have you heard of the town of Westview?” 

Your forehead wrinkles while you rack your brain for anything that sounds familiar. “No, sir, I don’t think so.” 

There’s muffled sounds from the other side of the phone and then you can hear Director Hayward clearly. “It’s a small town in New Jersey. Nothing special, nothing too out of the ordinary.” He pauses like you’re supposed to recognize it, but after a moment of silence he sighs and continues. “About seven months ago, we believe a pair of serial killers moved into town. Bodies started piling up, seemingly no rhyme or reason to who was killed, only that the victims were all female.” 

“Okay,” you say slowly, trying to wrap your head around all this. If it’s been going on for this long, why haven’t you heard about it? “Are we sure they’re connected if there’s no pattern of victim? Usually men have a type when they do this kind of thing; the women usually look like an ex-lover who broke their heart, or their mom.” 

You can practically hear him roll his eyes through the phone. “They were all killed the same way: poison to sedate them and then their hearts were carved out. And there was a purple azalea left in every single one of the victims’ chest cavities. So we’re pretty sure they’re connected.” Sarcasm drips copiously from his tone and you wince. Way to make a good first impression on the director of the FBI. “And it’s not a man. It’s a woman.” 

This makes you perk up with interest. “Oh?” As a profiler for a branch of the FBI in Miami, you’ve handled your fair share of serial killers. It may make you sound insensitive, but you were only really interested in the female ones. Men were so boring and predictable. Women knew how to make it a challenge, and there was always some deep, underlying motive for why they did it. There was nothing you enjoyed more than piecing together that puzzle. 

“They’re calling her The Witch. The poison used on the victims is like nothing we’ve ever seen before, so we think she must be making it herself. But since female serial killers are kind of your thing–” 

You cut him off before you can think twice, thoughts whirling through your head. “How do you know it’s a woman? Cutting out a heart, that takes a lot of strength. Most female serial killers tend to use gentler methods, like poison, so it makes sense that there’s at least one woman involved. Are you sure she isn’t working with someone though? Lavinia Fisher would poison her victims and then her husband would finish the job.” 

“How quickly can you get to Westview?” He asks, completely ignoring your question. 

“Oh, you want me to go there?” 

He scoffs. “Yes, Agent, we want you to go there. I’ve already informed your boss and he’s given his approval. No one has been better at catching the female killers than you, so we really need you on this. You can take the Miami jet as soon as you’re ready, but they want you there as soon as possible.” 

“Will I be working with the Trenton branch?” 

“Just the Westview PD for now. They’ve assured us that they have their best detectives on the case. But if you need backup, let us know and we can send in some more profilers. Whatever it takes to bring this woman to justice.” He hangs up without another word and you grab your to-go suitcase that you keep packed for times like these. You throw in a few extra sets of clothes just in case it takes longer than expected, and then you’re out the door, driving to Headquarters. 

You walk into your boss’s office and knock on the door. The director of the Miami branch, Tony Stark, looks up at you. “Hope you packed some warm clothes,” he says and you chuckle. You definitely did not.

“Hayward said I could take the jet?”

Tony nods. “It’s out back and already fueled up. Good luck, kid. Be careful, okay?” 

You scoff. “Careful? I’m always careful.” He fixes you with a stern look and you acquiesce. “I promise.” 

“I don’t need to remind you what happened last time you worked on a case like this, do I?” 

It hits you like a punch to the gut and you shake your head. “No, sir, you do not.” But you know he’s going to tell you anyway. 

“That woman destroyed you,” he hisses. “You got so focused on finding her that you stopped eating and sleeping. The obsession completely consumed you.” 

“I caught her, didn’t I?” You mutter, knowing full well that isn’t his point. He slams his hands down on his desk and you jump. 

“She almost killed you,” he almost yells and your face twists at the memory. 

The Scarlet Killer terrorized Miami about three years ago before you finally brought her down. At first, she would sneak into houses of families with twins and slit the parents’ throats and kidnap the kids, but the twins would always resist so she would end up killing them too. 

After a while, she stopped caring about the twin aspect and started killing anyone with children. 

You had spent days in the office, pacing and pouring over the evidence board, trying to make sense of it. There was no DNA anywhere, but there was also no sign of forced entry, so you figured that she was invited into the house somehow. The hunt for children made you think she had lost her own, or had some sort of abusive childhood that made her want to protect kids. She was possibly a twin as well, and very amicable if people were having her over willingly. 

It took two months before you figured out the perimeter of her murders. She was making a hexagon shape with the houses of the victims. Hexagons can represent balance, so you figured she felt as if she was balancing out some score with the universe for something that had happened to her. 

And then one fateful night, you realized where her next target was. A family had just moved into a house perfectly on the border of the hex, as people around the office started calling it, and they had twins. 

You spent almost an entire week camped out in front of their house waiting for the Scarlet Killer to strike. You think during that time, you slept a total of ten hours. Hallucinations plagued you and you would doze off and then wake up babbling something about catching her. Agents would bring food by your car and beg you to take a break, but you kept your eyes strained on the house, determined that you wouldn’t let her get away with it again, determined to prove that you were right about where she’d be.

And you were. 

Except the knocking that should’ve been on the front door of the house, the knocking that would inevitably lead to more death, was on your car window. 

You had jolted awake to find a redheaded woman standing there, looking worried. You opened the door and got out to help her when she had pulled a knife out and stabbed you in the stomach. 

Thank god she didn’t go for her usual M.O. of slitting throats. 

You were able to weakly unholster your gun and take a shot at her as she was running away and by the yelp, you knew you had hit her. A consolation prize as your vision faded to black. 

Somehow, you woke up two days later in a hospital room, Director Tony Stark by your bedside. They had caught the killer a block away thanks to the appendix your bullet had ruptured that rendered her unconscious, a woman named Wanda Maximoff, who had lost her twins in a horrible house fire, and made it a mission to try and replace them.

And her knife had missed anything important, and all you had was a nasty scar and the weariness from everyone else whenever there was a new female serial killer to catch. 

“She didn’t kill me though,” you tell Tony, who rolls his eyes. “I’ll be careful. I won’t get too involved this time.”

He slides open a drawer and takes out a file and a business card that he holds out to you. You reach across the desk to grab the two and you scan the card. 

Rio Vidal, Therapist, Westview. With an email and phone number. 

You hold it up and raise an eyebrow. “You want me to see a shrink?” You already completed your mandated fifteen hours of therapy after the Maximoff incident and you weren’t eager to go back. 

“You don’t have to, it’s just so you have an option. In case you feel yourself becoming too ‘involved.’” 

You purse your lips but you slip it into your pocket and tighten your grip on the file. “Guess I’ll see you whenever we catch her.” 

He salutes you and you make your way to the jet out back. 

It’s a three hour flight and you spend your entire time pouring over the case file. You know there’s still some information that you’ll have to get from the Westview PD, like witness statements and exclusive photos that haven’t been released yet, but what you do have is brutal. 

Photos of shriveled up bodies with barely any skin still on their bones, their cheeks hollowed out, like something sucked the life out of them. Not to be sexist, but you can tell why Director Hayward thought it was a woman. 

Although there’s a gaping hole in their chests where a heart used to be, the cuts are neat, precise. And the blood has been completely cleaned up. What should be the bloodiest crime scene you’ve ever seen is void of any fluid, like the killer methodically mopped and bleached and cleansed the scene of everything. But this also means that the victims are dead before the heart is cut out, from the poison. 

The most chilling thing is the singular, perfect flower placed in the cavity of their chest.

You flip through the toxicology reports but can’t really make sense of anything. One report says one chemical was the cause of death, another report says another. The levels of chemicals in the bloodstream are also different from victim to victim. 

It reminds you of Jolly Jane Toppan, who would experiment with different medicines and chemicals to murder patients at hospitals. 

Is the killer a nurse? A chemist? You’re able to figure out why she’s called The Witch, because it’s like she’s brewing up potions of sorts, but you have no idea why she would bother cutting their hearts out if she’s killing them with poison. 

The precision of the blade also means that her hands are steady. Another reason she could be a nurse. 

You flip through the pictures of all the victims – eleven, so far – and the first victim’s cut is just as accurate as the last victim. This woman is either a natural, or this isn’t the first time she’s killed. 

Pulling out your computer, you search the database for any serial killer cases that match this same type of crime, male or female. You’re still not entirely convinced she’s working alone. 

But there’s nothing. No cold cases, no open cases. She has truly shown up out of nowhere. 

You tap your fingers to the tray table, your mind trying to make sense of the details for the rest of the flight. 

When the plane lands, you’re ushered into an uber and taken to the motel where you’ll be staying. Your rental car is already in the parking lot. Even though Westview is a small town, it means a lot that they’re giving you all these accommodations. 

Your room is complete with a kitchenette, a queen sized bed, and a good sized bathroom. You drop the files on the table, throw your suitcase in the bedroom, and grab your work bag before locking the door behind you. 

The rental car is a small sedan that has a strange smell, but it does the job and you drive through the quaint twisting roads to get to the police station. You park up front, take a deep breath, and walk in. 

No one stops you or asks what you’re doing here (no wonder this case hasn’t been solved yet) so you make your way to the back where you find the Chief’s office. 

He’s a skinny man with a mustache, spots of something that looks like mustard on his shirt, talking to a woman with her back to you. All you can tell is that she has long, dark hair that flows down your back.

“Hi, excuse me?” You say, knocking on the glass door. The Chief stops and the woman turns around to face you and you’re momentarily struck by how attractive she is. “I’m Agent Y/N? The, uh, criminal profiler from Miami? The FBI sent me to help with The Witch case.” 

“Oh, shoot, that’s right,” the man says, wiping his hands on his jacket before standing up. “Chief Phil Jones. This is Detective Agatha Harkness–” He motions to the woman standing there who smiles knowingly, raking her eyes up and down your body. “– our best. She’s been working this case day and night.” 

“Any leads so far?” You ask her. 

“Why don’t I show you what we have so far?” She offers and you nod, following her out of the office and trying not to look at her ass. She takes you into  a different room with a bulletin board filled with pictures and string and post-it notes. You squint at it, trying to take everything in, while you hear more people enter the room behind you. 

“So, Miami, what do you think?” A man taunts and a few others snicker at him. You ignore him, you’ve been used to this your entire career. 

You’re still scanning the board when something catches your eye. The witness statements. They don’t corroborate with each other. From the six people that have seen something, they all agree that the killer had dark hair. But some say it was long, others say just past her shoulders. Some think she was taller and lean, others say shorter and just a little more filled out. There’s a detail from two witnesses that gives you pause though: they say the woman had a mask of sorts on the bottom of her face, almost like a skeleton. The other witnesses make no mention of not being able to see the killer’s entire face. 

You tap the papers. “Why don’t the statements line up?” 

“Surely you know how unreliable eyewitness testimony is,” Agatha drawls, and when you turn around, she’s watching you carefully. 

You frown. “I do know, but it seems like there’s two different people here. So either we have a copycat, which would be unlikely due to there being no change in the level of detailedness from murder to murder, or–” You trail off, chewing on your lip. You’re waiting for someone, Agatha maybe, to finish the sentence, or to tell you you’re being crazy. 

“Or?” She prompts like she’s daring you to go on. There’s a look in her eyes, a look you don’t quite recognize. 

You give the men in the room a glance. Will they laugh? “I really think we’re dealing with two killers here. Working together. One poisons the victims, the other cuts out the heart. I thought it was a man and a woman, but it seems like two women. They’re obviously very close to each other, and they’ve got it down to an easy routine.” 

“Why hasn’t anyone seen two women then?” Agatha asks, but you feel like she’s just guiding you to a realization, rather than criticizing your theory. 

You hum, tossing the question around in your head. “Maybe…maybe because they want us to think there’s only one killer? They’ve fooled everyone, even the FBI. Easy to chalk it up to faulty witness statements.” 

“Why wouldn’t they try to look alike then?” Agatha presses, and your brow furrows. It’s a good point. 

The pictures of the mutilated victims on the board stare back at you while you look for anything you could’ve missed. “Are they toying with us? Do they want us confused? The poison, the cut-out heart, the flower left behind, the different descriptions, it’s like this is a game to them. They’re cocky, they feel confident that they can’t get caught. Maybe both of them are narcissists, but definitely are on the Antisocial Personality Disorder spectrum.” 

“Why do you think they do it?” Agatha says in a hushed voice. You can’t help but notice that she seems excited. 

Is that because she finally might be getting a break in her case? 

“I don’t know,” you admit and she looks disappointed. You spin to face the board again. “There’s no obvious connection or pattern between the victims, so it doesn’t seem like there’s a personal vendetta against them. Nothing stands out about the locations either. It seems like they’re just killing for fun, right now.” 

“That’s pretty dangerous,” she says, and you can feel the front of her body brush against your back. You’ve been so entranced that you didn’t even hear her notice her coming over. “That means anyone could be next.” 

Goosebumps spread over your body at her hot breath on your neck, but her words sober you up. She’s right. You’re not able to rule out potential victims based on how many kids they have or don’t have, like with Wanda, or what they look like or don’t look like. 

“Okay,” you say, nodding your head. “We need to send out a BOLO for two women with dark hair now. Put these descriptions out, tell them to keep an eye out for a skeleton mask? Hopefully we can get some tips and put a stop to this before anyone else gets hurt.” 

“What should we call the other woman?” One of the male officers speaks up and you’re surprised that it’s an actual question. 

Agatha watches you with interest while you think about it. “How about…Lady Death?” You offer and she gives a nod of approval. “Put a BOLO out for Lady Death and The Witch.” 

You make copies of everything that’s on the board and paper clip them together to put in your bag. As you’re packing everything up to go back and leave to the motel (Tony would be proud of you for leaving the station at an acceptable time), Agatha comes over and leans on the table. 

“What do you think their relationship is? Lady Death and The Witch,” she says, amusement lacing her tone when she says their nicknames. 

You shrug. “Sisters, friends, wives? Maybe they’re just two crazy people who met each other and want to kill people.” She chuckles and studies you curiously. 

“You know, we’ve had some other profilers come in, but none of them have been like you. You know your stuff.” 

“Female serial killers are kind of my thing,” you say. “There’s just something about untangling the mystery that’s so much sweeter. Makes me feel…alive. Which I know sounds bad, because so many people have died, and I’m sorry.” 

Agatha looks like she knows exactly what you’re talking about. “No, don’t apologize. It’s exciting, isn’t it? The exhilaration, the moment when you finally get what you want, what you’ve been working toward.” Her voice is low and you nod, leaning in before you can realize what you’re doing. Your gaze drops down to her smirk and then back to her blown-out pupils. “Do you think you’ll be able to find them?” 

“Yeah, I do,” you breathe, and she looks positively delighted. Out of nowhere, the scar on your stomach stings and you grimace. Agatha looks at you, concerned but you brush it off. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You ask, standing up and slinging your bag onto your shoulder. 

“See you then, superstar,” she says with a grin and watches you leave. 

When you get back to the motel, you spread all the pictures and notes out, trying to connect some dots. You scribble down Friends? Sisters? Lovers? on a sticky note and press it to the wall. 

Why do you think they do it? Agatha’s question still haunts you. You don’t want to believe that it’s just for fun, there has to be some meaning, some motive for poisoning and then physically removing hearts. There has to be some significance to the flower left behind. 

But what is it? 

Your stomach grumbles so you decide to take a step back and go pick up food from a restaurant in town. As you’re pulling out of the parking lot to come back to the motel with wings and french fries, you get a call from Tony Stark. You accept it, taking a sip from your cup quickly. 

“Hey, Director,” you say. 

“There she is! How’s it going?” 

You shrug even though he can’t see you. “Not too bad. Just went and got dinner. See, I’m taking care of myself.” 

He laughs like it’s the funniest joke he’s heard. “Glad to hear it. Any new leads in the case?” 

“There’s two women, not one. They’re working together.” There’s silence on his end of the line for a second and you wonder if he heard you. “Did you–?

“Yeah, I got that. Shit, so you think you’re looking for partners? I don’t like this,” he says. 

“I’m okay, I promise. What happened with Wanda won’t happen this time,” you reassure him as you turn back into the motel lot. “I’ll check in with you whenever you want. I’ll go see that shrink. I’ll be careful.” You’re worried that he’ll pull you off the case if he thinks you’re too obsessed. Your hyperfixation tendencies almost cost you your life, and you know Tony doesn’t want that to happen to you again. He’s become somewhat of a father figure to you since you started working there, and it’s touching how much he cares.

He hums in satisfaction. “I expect you to eat three meals a day and get at least five hours of sleep.” Before you can protest, he continues. “And I want you to make an appointment with that therapist. Just get ahead of your spiral, maybe talking about the case with someone removed will help you be more level-headed.” 

“I will,” you vow. “Okay, just got back to the motel, I’ll talk to you later.” He says goodbye and hangs up. When you get out of the car with your food, the hair on the back of your neck stands up and your scar tingles. 

Something feels off. 

You get to your door to find it slightly ajar and you frown. You remember locking it. Maybe room service cleans at night? 

“Hello?” You call, pushing it open. Taking a few cautious steps into the room, you scan from wall to wall looking for anything or anyone.

There’s no one there, nothing seems out of place except for your suitcase that is now on your bed. You tentatively walk over to it and unzip it, jumping back like you’re expecting something to pop out. Inside, you find all the clothes you packed gone, and entirely replaced by a new wardrobe. Pulling them out, you gasp when you find cashmere sweaters and silky blouses and comfortable but professional looking pants. There’s a bottle of perfume with the word “Thanatos” printed in perfect calligraphy and you take a whiff. It smells like flowers and wood at the same time and it makes you think of a forest. 

So someone broke into your motel room just to give you some new clothes and perfume? You rustle through the rest of the suitcase and a piece of paper flutters to the floor. 

Heart pounding, you lean down to pick it up. It’s the same sticky note that you put on your wall before you left to get food. 

Friends? Sisters? Lovers? 

Only now, the word ‘lovers’ is circled, with a small heart drawn. You drop the paper like you’ve been burned and run over to where all your case information is and you feel nauseous. 

Nothing has been touched. Nothing is out of place. 

Except for the single purple azalea resting on the middle of the table. 

They were here. 

[cvpidzcvrse]

Nah, I'm Better.

divider by @cafekitsune

✦A/N: OK! this took longer than expected but LISTEN! I'm here now and probably will be dropping more frequently (hopefully). Reader is also a slut I mean she could talk me through it and I'd let her. But I tried to eat down as much as possible for this fic so the girlies and the gays wouldn't starve. Gojo is driving my dream car, a girl can only imagine.

⋆.ೃ࿔*･Synopsis: You and Satoru have been best friends since elementary school. By the time you both made it to college he’s hated every single partner you’ve ever had. Your recent ex isn’t any different, but he’s doing something about it this time.

⋆.ೃ࿔*･wc: 2,887

⋆.ೃ࿔*Warnings: best friends to lovers, praise, car sex, arguments (ish), cowgirl, choking, handjob, p in v, no protection, finishing inside (practice safe sex)

(the reader is black)

If you had a dollar for every time you and Satoru got mistaken for a couple you’d be rich, not richer than him. He loves it when people mistake him for your boyfriend. It’s the ego boost he doesn’t need. He’s liked you for a while but you always shut him down. Either for another guy or because you see him as just a “friend”. You knew that was a lie, you didn’t want to ruin the friendship between you guys. So to buried your feelings for Satoru and used other men as a distraction. Fuck buddies, friends with benefits, sugar daddies, you name it. Nothing was ever successful; it always ended in heartbreak or fights. Satoru hated that you went for men who were lower than your standard.

He hated that you didn’t go for him. That’s part of the reason why he’s parked outside a fancy restaurant waiting for you to walk out.  

You thought this guy was the one, you’d been talking for a couple weeks, going on dates, even fucked a few times. But no people always have to ruin it, it was fun while it lasted. Mahito was a guy you met off of Tinder. He was nice, sweet, and probably the realest guy you’ve ever met. That was until date number four when he brought up his love for podcasts. Specifically a podcast by the name ‘Fresh and Fit’, you know the podcast that goes around and hates on women for a check. 

What a loser…

After learning that information you left the date immediately. Leaving him with a “Get a life, nigga.” before quickly walking out of the restaurant. The cold drizzle of rain calms your nerves as you heave out a soft sigh. Your eyes meet a familiar and sleek all-black Ford Bronco. An air of comfort travels throughout your body. You haven’t been this excited to see Satoru since…ever. He’s already looking in your direction with his cheeky smile, flashing you his pearly white teeth. He’s always been handsome, your whole life was spent watching girls and even guys swoon over him. You can’t even remember if he accepted any of the advances, you don’t even think he’s had a girlfriend that you know of.

His jagged blue eyes met your dark brown ones and it’s like a firework went off in front of you. Your waist-length knotless braids, glossy plump lips, and warm brown skin have him in a chokehold. The way your honey-glazed skin complimented your outfit made him want to rip it off right there. Luckily his windows are tinted enough to hide his very noticeable lustful gaze, but you felt his eyes burning holes into your head. With a visible frown on your face, you swiftly open the car door. You come face to face with Satoru’s fuck boy grin, you almost melt on the spot.

“When I said ‘call me for emergencies.’ It didn’t include shitty dates.”

You roll your eyes before playfully punching his arm. Satoru speeds out of the parking lot before you can even put your seatbelt on. Your back hits the seat roughly before you send a glare Satoru’s way.

“Chill out, nigga damn. You didn’t even hear how the date went and you’re already mad.”

“I’m mad because you didn’t listen to me. I told you not to trust that fucking loser, now look at where we are.”

You could hear his eyes rolling before you saw it. He’s the leader of the sassy man apocalypse and he never denies it. You grimaced at the undeniable truth that he was right, and you knew it. You cross your arms over your chest and gaze out at the widow districting yourself with the scenery. 

“Hey…look at me.”

His light-hearted voice quickly melted in your ears like honey. He softly gripped your chin and turned your face to his. He analyzed your expression for a moment. Admiring your features, planning your future, imagining his cock inside of you. He’s quickly brought out of his thoughts when you playfully push his hand away. 

“Hands off, this makeup took time.”

He scuffs at your statement before looking back at the busy road. You analyze him for a while, taking in his features. Your thoughts are more innocent than his, and you hope it stays that way. 

“Listen…I’m sorry I didn’t listen. But, niggas man you don’t understand. They’re all so annoying.”

The more you think about your past rendezvous the more it turned into torture. Satoru knew about every failed date. He was always there to be a shoulder to cry on and a dick to ride if you asked him. He knows very well about your tragic love life, he doesn’t remember a successful relationship you’ve been in. He lectured you every time he picked you up from a bad date or situationship ending in ‘So, what are we?’. He wasn’t upset with you, he was more upset that you refused to see his obvious feelings for you. 

“This is just starting to get repetitive. (✧), This is just...nevermind”

He smacked his lips at the end of his statement. A habit he picked up from you after all of the years you two have spent together. His mouth opens to say something else but nothing comes out. He huffs and runs his hand through his hair, he’s frustrated by the current events.

“Don’t get an attitude with me. You think I want to date guys like this?”

Your accusatory tone makes his attention shift slightly from the road. He scans his brain for what to say. He doesn’t want to upset you anymore but he also didn’t want to sugarcoat anything. As a wannabe lover, he wants nothing but the best for you even if it means telling you a harsh reality. 

Your taste in men is shit. 

He doesn’t have enough fingers or toes to list off the amount of guys that hurt you in the past. Nanami was too formal for you, Toji was a bum that leeched off of you, Sukuna was an asshole, and Satoru would’ve killed Suguru if he even attempted to flirt with you. 

“No, you know what I mean. You deserve better than these dumbasses you go after.”

The venom in his voice is very noticeable. Satoru’s carefree nature is cracking under the stress of your love life. Your stubborn nature refuses to let you back down to him, especially when he’s like this. 

“Toru’ I can date and fuck who I want! I don’t need to be lectured by you. I understand that you care, but let me live my life.”

Your response almost sent Satoru out of the car. His eyes twitched in annoyance and his knuckles turned white from gripping the steering wheel. You watch the way his jaw tightened and his muscles flexed. It turned you on, a lot. As much as you hate to admit it, you looove making him mad. It was just the way his relaxed facade melted away when you threw careless sentences at him. His foot softly pressed on the brake when coming to a red light. He slowly shifted his body to face you, if looks could fuck he’d be fucking you right now. Just the thought of him bending you over the center console had your clit aching. 

“Do not say that, I will crash this car right now and kill us both.”

He glanced at you with a smirk trying to lighten the melancholy-stricken mood. You scuff at his childish antics.

“Oh my god, be for real-”

Ring…

Your phone buzzed in your purse, and your soon-to-be lecture got cut short. Your eyes widened when you saw the caller I.D. read ‘Mahito’. You let it ring for a few seconds before finally answering it. 

“Why are you calling me? I told you we were over.”

Satoru's ears perked when he heard the hostility in your voice. There was a snarky voice on the other end and they were loudly throwing a fit. His eyes analyzed your expression and the way your calmness was replaced with annoyance. 

“You don’t think I can do better than you?…You’re one goofy ass nigga, you know that?…Whatever, fuck you!”

You harshly shoved your phone into your purse and groaned. The awkward silence was almost tangible; you would have to cut it with a chainsaw. Mahito’s words circled in your head and it pissed you off more and more. Who does he think he is? You hum slightly when a very filthy idea comes to your mind. 

“Satoru, I need you to take me somewhere.”

｡.｡:∞♡*

“Why the fuck are we here? Please don’t tell me you’re about to do something stupid.”

Satoru’s tone is laced with worry and confusion. He has no clue why he was parked outside of Mahito’s house right now and he didn’t know why you wanted to come here. You give him a cheeky smile before unbuckling your seatbelt and slowly leaning over the center console. You’re incredibly close to Satoru’s face, your nose practically touching his. All you can do is stare sensually into his ice-blue eyes, but the sense of longing is undeniably visible. 

“What are you doing?”

His voice spills out lowly like silk touching your ears. You take in a breath before crashing your lips into his. He’s caught by surprise but that’s quickly replaced with lust. His veiny hands quickly trace every curve on your body and tangle his fingers in your braids. You pull away taking in the wonderful scenery that Satoru was turned into. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is messy. You both stare at each other in awe and affection. It’s like something was unlocked in the middle of this little plan of revenge. 

“Get in the back.”

You nod before watching him walk out and around as you climb in the back. He opens the back door and stares at you for a moment, taking in the way your skirt is hiked up and your shirt tousled around. He quickly gets in and closes the door, basically pouncing on you. His mouth attacks your neck quickly, leaving several bite marks and hickeys. Without breaking the kiss you roughly pushed him onto the car door behind him. He lets out a low groan and rests his hands on your waist. You reach down and fumble with his belt buckle before finally breaking the kiss and using your hands. 

“If you need help you could’ve just asked.”

“Shut up.”

He chokes out a gasp when you take his cock out of his boxers. You wrap your manicured hand around his big cock and slowly massage the length. You trace circles around his tip with your thumb. A low groan settles at the bottom of his throat as silence sighs escape his lips. He unscrewed his eyes to meet the brazen expression on your face. His chuckles and mixed moans are sending you over the edge. You reach down and caress your clit through your panties. Satoru doesn’t fall ignorant of this and quickly grabs your hand to stop the satisfying motion.

“Suck it, I want your mouth.”

He let out a low chuckle as you took his full length into your mouth. You let out a whine as the tip of his cock touched the back of your throat. Satoru’s head flew back in pleasure as his hand rested comfortably on top of your head. He can sense your greed from the way your tongue moves along his tip. He sighed out a moan and softly pushed your head down further. 

“F-fuck…you’re doing so well.”

He stifles a throaty moan with his free hand and laces his hands in your hair. You were quick to grab his wrist and yank his hand away. You trailed soft kisses up the length of his cock, from base to tip. 

“I wanna hear you, pretty boy. Let me hear you.”

Your voice was soothing and soft it probably could’ve put him to sleep if it weren’t for the current circumstances. He melted at your command and quickly left his hand to the side. You tease his leaking tip with your tongue before putting it all in your mouth again. His mouth goes agape as slutty moans spill out and his hands grip your hair tightly. The way your head is bobbing up and down on his cock has his mind going blank. His cock twitches in your mouth before he quickly shoves your head away.

“I don’t want to cum yet. C’mon get on top, ride what’s yours.”

You swiftly straddle his lap and he pushes your panties to the side. You wrap your arms around him as he slowly pushes you on his hard cock. You let a soft moan and tug at Satoru’s hair. He moans in response and pushes you down deeper.

“Shit…fuck me, c’mon.”

His mouth is hovering over your ear and his voice is low and seductive. You slowly start to rock your hips and grind on his cock. After adjusting to his size you messily start bouncing on his cock. Strings of curses spew out of his mouth and his grip on your waist gets tighter. 

“Like this baby? Mmph…you’re so big.”

The constant praise is making the blood rush to his face. He hides his blushing face in your shoulder and leaves several bite marks. The car windows turn foggy and the only thing illuminating the car is the moonlight. Satoru’s moans can probably be heard from blocks away. His hands are under your sweater groping and squeezing your plush breast. His fingers pull and twist at your nipples as your pace gets messy. 

“Give me your hand…”

His voice is carnal and vibrating in your ear. It makes your clit twitch and your tempo stagger. You untangle your hand from his hair and place your hand in his. He takes two of your fingers and places them in his mouth. He doesn’t break eye contact, he’s just looking at you like a meal waiting to be devoured. He slowly sucks them and swirls his tongue around them. The scene in front of you is so sensual and slow, you’ve never experienced something so intimate before. He slowly pulls your fingers out of his as a saliva trail is the only thing left behind.

“Play with your clit for me. I wanna watch while you bounce on my cock.”

His voice moves like velvet through your body. It’s like he’s talking right to your pussy and she’s answering very loudly. The moment your hand reaches your clit Satoru plunges his cock into you. His thrust gets more violent and his large cock attacks your cervix. Your head dips back in pleasure in the constant assault on your insides. 

He’s starting to unravel like a present. His strokes get messier, sweet liquid spilling everywhere, his moans getting louder and more frequent. His nail prints are embedded on your love handles and your thighs are a wet mess. 

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. C’mon baby you can do it.”

His pleading sends shivers down your spine. You’ve never seen him so desperate before, it was empowering that your pussy brought him down a few notches. His pussy drunk stare is intoxicating to look at. The way he’s looking at you with his eyes half-lidded with nothing but lust in them. There was something about the way he looked at you; it wasn't just lust. It was like you were a necessity to him, he needed you.

“Mmph…baby I’m ‘bouta cum!”

“Cum for me, you’d make me so proud. Cum on my cock princess.”

Satoru replaced your hand with his and traced circles on your clit. With his hand working its magic and his cock peppering kisses on your cervix sends you crazy. The car is rocking very noticeably but you could care less. Your climax crashes onto you like a ton of bricks. Your juices spill all over his thick cock and coat his length in a slippery mess. His warm and sticky ropes decorate your insides, leaving his pants soaked and a wet ring around the base of his cock.

“That’s it, I’m so proud of you baby.”

 He tenderly pulls out and holds you tight to him, taking in the moment. You rest your forehead on his shoulder, you both desperately trying to catch whatever air is left in your lungs. You hear Satoru chuckle slowly while tracing kisses on your neck. 

“What’s so funny? Did my pussy make you delirious or what?” 

He shakes his head and lifts your head softly and turns it towards the window. While swallowed by lust you didn’t notice Satoru rolled the window down. Mahito is staring in awe and anger; he looks like he is about to explode. Satoru’s chuckle turns into a full-blown cackle as he glances at Mahito, sending him that cheeky smile that you love so much. You join Satoru in his joyous laughter before reaching over and rolling up the window.

“At least my plan worked. Let’s do it again but this time with handcuffs.” 

[stheresya]

"I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight […]" (Sansa III, AGOT) “Wed?” Sansa was stunned. “You and my aunt?” “The Lord of Harrenhal and the Lady of the Eyrie.” You said it was my mother you loved. But of course Lady Catelyn was dead, so even if she had loved Petyr secretly and given him her maidenhood, it made no matter now. (Sansa VI, ASOS)

I find that these little passages reveal something interesting about sansa's personality. specially when you juxtapose how she's characterized in the text and her worldviews here, and how at first glance they may seem contradictory. but first, let's take two things into account:

the patriarchal society of westeros is very strict on women's sexuality. which means that not only is female virginity held in great value, but also female adultery is very firmly condemned by everyone, unlike men who are allowed to maintain public mistresses and flaunt their bastards everywhere.

sansa is characterized as the conformist, the one who internalizes her society's rules. she's very religious, she's a proper lady in every sense of the word and she often says and does exactly what she's told.

and yet, in these passages we can see that sansa does not care much about societal rules when it comes to intimate feelings. she often hails aemon and naerys' (supposed) forbidden love without a single care that queen naerys was bound by duty to a husband and aemon was meant to be loyal to his king. but most astonishing of all is her nonchalant response to petyr's (false) information that her mother was not a virgin when she married. on one hand it may speak on sansa's views towards women's sexuality, since her current friends (mya and randa) are girls who engage in sex out of wedlock, and she never judges them, just like she doesn't judge her mother for apparently doing the same, and catelyn continues to be the person she admires the most. sansa also doesn't view her parents' relationship any differently because of this, the marriage between ned and cat is still as happy as she remembers, because all that matters to her is that there was love in the home she grew up in. the thing about sansa's character is that she plays by the rules up until a certain point, but on the inside she always prioritizes emotion over societal norms, and that's why she looks more upset at petyr for marrying someone while claiming to love another, because in her mind he's being unfaithful to his heart by marrying out of practicality. we have examples that showcase sansa's prioritizing feelings in AGOT when she, the good daughter, disobeys her father for the first time because she thought she was in love with joffrey, and in ASOS where she never thinks she owes tyrion anything just because he's her husband. so it comes as no surprise that she's so infatuated with the love story of an adulterous and incestuous relationship like aemon and naerys'. one of the main themes in this series is that feelings don't care about honor. and if love is the death of duty then sansa seems more than happy to see duty killed for the sake of love.

of course this doesn't mean she'll stay that way, specially when she's already lost her so much of her innocence and is now tangled in petyr's schemes where she must set her own feelings aside in order to act on his plans. and despite her silent judgement of petyr marrying someone he didn't love, her current betrothal with harry is an entirely practical union on her part since she feels nothing for him and only sees him as a means to an end. there have been many instances since book 1 where she was able to turn off her feelings in order to withstand certain situations. so... what even is sansa's mind? an interesting universe on its own for sure.

I just think sansa's romanticism is one of her most interesting traits (for better and for worse), something that truly contributes to the distinctiveness of her character, and I really hope petyr or anyone else are unable to completely kill that in her.

[venusskissed]

𝐏𝐀𝐂 - 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐒 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝟏𝟖+

🪽 this pick a pack/pile is focusing on your FS’ sexual energy towards you in (or out) of the bedroom. or, if you aren’t too curious of your FS or not into marriage you can replace it with someone you are interested in/your soulmate/life long partner. whatever suits your cup pretty doll. 🫶🏻

#P01 #P02 #P03

 — ౨ৎ : close your eyes and take a deep breath, then choose the pile your eyes landed on. it’s also fine to choose multiple or the one you felt drawn to from the get go either because of intuition or something else. do what best suits you. 💖

🧾ㅤㅤ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. This is an intimate pile for adults. There is a reason for that, it is not meant to be viewed by minors as it’s too explicit and not meant for you. I don’t care if you think you are mature or ready to view it, these warnings exist for a good reason.

pile 01

⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀⠀💭 ace of swords, the star, ace of pentacles, wolf, swan, rat

please keep in mind that this is a very general reading, a lot of things will come through and some of it will resonate while some things might not. focus on things that do, as they are meant for you and the rest is possibly for somebody else.

hello my beautiful pile one! 🫶🏻 right of the bat I can tell that your chosen one thinks the world of you. in their eyes you are the most beautiful woman/man/person that there ever was or will ever be. some of you might agree with this, some of you might not, but that doesn’t matter. nothing in this world can make them change their opinion of you, they love every curve of your body, the feeling of your skin, your scent, the way you talk and the way you move they can’t help but get needy by it. you make them horny but in a really desperate way. even if your body isn’t curvy there is something about it that they can’t get out of their head; to them it’s just simply perfect.

they might even fantasise about you quite often, if not on the daily. the thought of you could very easily make them hard/wet. not in a slight way, rather very visibly and faster than they would like to admit. for most people this is a man, or someone who was born as one so they could often fantasise about slowly entering you and then fastening up the pace to drive you crazy, or if it’s a woman they could want you to do this to them. (for the submissive sapphic women & submissive straight men this is still very possible through pegging 🫶🏻) the thing they seem to enjoy about it is the visuals of you being hard/wet or perhaps the wetness, cum or lube creating a shine on your bodies which makes it aesthetically appealing. as well as your noises! they really like your moans, sighs, whines and perhaps even screams.

they seem to worship your body, mind and soul pile one. and while I know a lot of readings say that it is with a good reason. in their eyes you are the star, it doesn’t get better than you and they don’t even want it to. they are very much in awe by everything you do. I can see you arching your back a lot in pleasure, exposing your entire body to them while they are thrusting inside you/going down on you and their mind goes foggy because they just adore every single little thing about you. they don’t know if they should continue, do something else for bigger reactions or touch your beautiful body all over. (their words, in no way am I trying to sexualise you.)

while we are at that topic they also seem to have a strong desire to let you know they would do anything for you. literally anything you ask as long as it’s nothing too extreme. they would even switch positions for you (if they are a dom become submissive for you and wise versa), try out things they didn’t hear of before and what you might be curious of, try out things they aren’t into (public, swallowing, letting you have full control if you wish etc.).. your wish is their command, truly.

they might even get mad if anything or anyone interrupts them from giving you the utmost pleasure that you deserve. not in a toxic way, but rather they want to give you all the attention that you deserve. not a single thing can get their mind off you, and they don’t want to let you go ‘just yet’. they might be someone who enjoys making the entire process long when possible, could possibly be into rounds. they want to be the best you ever had. your best choice ever. your greatest. anything of those lines.

their higher self also wants to brag a bit, it’s kinda funny. however it’s not with any bad intentions, they just want you to know that they are capable of pleasing you and they will. the thing they really want to brag about is their body. If you have a preference for men their private era could be really big and whatever you consider pretty. big as in long and possibly thick too. if you have a preference for women their chest era could be bigger and their skin could be really smooth. (again, I am in no way trying to sexualise you or your FS, it’s just something they want you to know.)

they could also be protective of you in general. for some of you this person is a few years older than you so that might be the reason why. they can see through certain situations than you do thus having this desire to take care of you, to be there for you! this would translate into the bedroom too, they will always make sure you are comfortable, enjoying yourself and feel the absolute best you can. very big on after care too, they will massage your body if it’s sore, watch things with you, talk with you and reassure you. tell you what’s in their heart, how well you did and how much they love you. their favourite would be cuddling with you, possibly spooning while having deep heartfelt conversations with you. they are truly your lover boy/girl/person. hopelessly devoted to you~

this pile also has a very healing energy for the both of you. either you, them or possibly both of you. although the energy is coming through more for them for majority of this pile. though, you know yourself best, if you know this will be a healing connection for you I will trust you. 🫶🏻

your person could have had a past experience that left them quite scarred and have an unhealthy relationship with sex and intimate things in general. there are mixed messages coming through but for majority of this pile they became closed off and unwilling to look at it as anything that could possibly be a positive thing. for a very small portion of the readers it’s the opposite, meaning they could have became over sexual. (or possibly you two could be opposites, you have to trust your intuition with this.) either way it affected their mental health quite a lot. now I am not saying they would rely on you entirely to make their life better, to heal them completely and always drop anything for them. they aren’t asking you to push your limits. rather they gain energy from you being yourself. your words, actions, behaviour, opinions and the way you are will make them realise that they aren’t as repulsed by intimacy as they thought. that it’s okay to have natural urges and don’t be too hard on themselves since it. more than anything this feels like letting go of shame and allowing one’s self to live.

𐙚ᅠ what are their kinks?

there is a lot coming through this pile so please bear with me sweet sweet dolly 🫶🏻

first and foremost hair pulling seems to be a kink of theirs. not something they are huge on but do a lot regardless. possibly not even noticing that you are doing it or wishing for it. doesn’t seem to be a fetish they just enjoy it quite a lot.

something they are consciously loving is breeding kink though. which, might sound scary or possibly very unpleasant for many people reading this but don’t worry, they just enjoy the feeling of cumming inside you/you having an orgasm inside them. (I am really sorry for saying it that way, there is really no nicer way to say it.) so, they just really enjoy creampies. so make sure to keep yourselves protected my beautiful pile one!!! 🫶🏻 (most of you won’t listen but it’s okay.)

they might just really be into cum play in general.

size kink seems to be their thing too! it could manifest in many different kind of ways such as height difference or being aroused by the size of specific body parts. & for the people who are nervous about the height difference thing.. they mean well, nothing harmful! they might just really enjoy feeling needed and as if they can protect their partner. they want you to rely on them and feel safe, and to them personally this would be a visual representation of it.

they might really be into relationship dynamics such as gloomy x excited one, sunshine x sunshine protector, mean x sweet one. (if you have a hard time imagining this think of jade x cat or ymir x krista)

and of course, for some of you they could have a worship kink.

other things that might be relevant: ‘nah, baby I am a train wreck too. I loose my mind when it comes to you. I take my time with the ones I choose and I don’t want a smile if it ain’t from you’, red, doodle?, ‘take a hint’, plush fish/shark, jelly, cold, pom-poms, boyloves, cars, multilingual, chain, cross

🦢 that is all my beautiful pile one! thank you for your precious time, I hope you enjoyed this PAC! 🫶🏻 please keep in mind that this is a reading on current energies, these can change anytime! I am sorry for any spelling mistakes as english isn’t my first language and I haven’t proof read yet! 💖

︶֪︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶ིྀ︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶

pile 02

⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀⠀💭 five of swords, the tower, nine of cups, deer, monkey, lady bird

please keep in mind that this is a very general reading, a lot of things will come through and some of it will resonate while some things might not. focus on things that do, as they are meant for you and the rest is possibly for somebody else.

⚠️: I can see that some of you who chose this pile are in abusive relationships. If that’s not you, that’s wonderful. however if you unfortunately resonate with that and feel like you have to do stuff you don’t want to please leave or reach out to trusted sources for help.

hello my beautiful pile two 🫶🏻 first of all I would like to say that wow, this is so much different from pile one. this one shocked me quite a lot because I didn’t expect it. before you continue I would like to warn that this pile is very kinky, for half of you your person is heavily into bdsm and for the other half.. well, they are still very kinky just not to the extremes. so if you are uncomfortable with such things I recommend stepping away as this might not be your pile or just to wait until you are ready to read about it. of course, it’s your choice I just felt like some people reading this are inexperienced or aren’t used to a person like this.

with that said, I know some of you are rolling your eyes ‘but I would like that-‘ stop ✋ that was not for you bby, whatever you are into (I hope) comes right now.

I would like to start with saying your person has a degradation kink. mostly in a verbal way, they could have a preference for giving too. I don’t see them minding receiving, but they prefer to give it. such as slapping you during the act, dirty talk, speaking down on you, possibly spitting on you and cursing at you. there is a very assertive and aggressive energy here.

although I would like to say that they wouldn’t proceed to do any of it without your consent or permission. this person still seems loving, caring, thoughtful and attentive of your needs. they find you hot and adore your body. they just happen to have rough preferences.

they could like positions that require back hugs while thrusting inside you/being thrusting into. so possibly something that involves spooning so they can kiss your cheek or neck during it. shoulders too.

for most of you your fs/chosen person could go out of their way to make you feel loved after a rough round as they could have a tendency to challenge your limits. so they could possibly prefer to have second rounds or a make out session after so they can make you feel loved, appreciated and so you are aware that they don’t want to harm you or wish bad for you. of course, they wouldn’t neglect after care it’s just their way of making sure you know they do love you.

I also heard ‘it’s all just a play’ so they could be really into role playing, especially things that show a clear power dynamic between you two. so after all that they could/will possibly kiss your body all over while praising you and expressing their affection for you.

however they are still very kinky and before any of that could happen they will be making a mess out of you. for some of you they could want to tie you up (your wrists) with ropes or those adult play handcuffs.. you know, with some fluff. blindfold you and just hit it from behind (literally how their guides said it) while whispering into your ear. they seem to have an enjoyment of triggering your senses. it turns them on because it turns you on. they also enjoy seeing your body shiver and be more sensitive as it usually would be. they could be into overstimulation too, honestly.

gender doesn’t really seem to play a role here because they would want to do these things to you either way. though if you are a man or was born as one I would like to point out they would really like to tease your balls (might like to suck on it), and they could possibly want to ride you while you are blindfolded.

unfortunately I am not too similar with the name of toys so you will have to bear with me here.. </3 if you are a man/was born as one your person definitely wants to try out a cock ring (?) on you as long as you allow them, if you are a woman/was born as one they could possibly want you to wear those panty vibrators they can control. now I really don’t know the name of this one but do you know the name of those bdsm balls that goes into the mouth? it has straps at the side. they could be into that too

they could also look at you as a prize, not in a toxic way though but rather that they are the only one allowed to touch, see and make you feel this way. It makes them feel fulfilled, it feeds their ego and they honestly love it. they might even like to have public sex or make you so loud the whole neighbourhood hears you. or at least fantasise about it. they want everyone to know you are theirs and no one else can have you. maybe they want people to see you? but not your naked body, just enough to know they are making you feel good, driving you crazy.

If you have ever read ‘painter of the night’ your person reminds me of seungho. their ego, kinks, acts of affection, jealousy, possessiveness, stamina and teasing seem to be pretty much similar.

I also want to point out that the reason your FS/chosen person would go this far it that they are aware that you have been fantasising about such things for a while but couldn’t exactly get the chance to live it out. in fact many people who chose this pile might be virgins, curious, curious ones. (ofc not all of you.) so in a way they just want to please you, allow you to live your wildest fantasies out. of course, they enjoy it too but their focus is fully on you.

you might be someone that has really specific kinks but is shy about them and doesn’t have anyone to talk with about it or perhaps any way to healthily live it out. so they want to be there for you, be the one.

they want you to trust them, show you how good they can make you feel and that they are always ready to pleasure you whenever you need them. just say the words and they are on their knees.. or whatever position you want them to be in.

𐙚ᅠ what are their kinks?

I feel like we have pretty much everything since your person doesn’t seem to look at sex as a deeper spiritual/emotional act aside from taking care of your needs and making sure you know they do love you wholeheartedly, but I will still try to do my best to gather/organise everything that comes through.

bdsm. self explanatory, they mostly want to use toys on you and trigger your senses in order for you to feel everything in a deeper manner. (as in more intensely)

edging! they could/will/do enjoy teasing your body and withholding you from orgasming multiple times. they enjoy to see your body shake under their touch and hear your whines. and of course, they enjoy that it makes your orgasms more intense/stronger.

blindfolds. being blindfolded or blindfolding you.. they don’t really care, they just enjoy it being involved.

possibly being watched. it’s like bragging to them, rubbing it into people’s face (not literally..), making sure they know that your person owns you.

consensual r-*play. this is for a very small portion of you but if this doesn’t seem like your thing please do not force yourself to do things just for the sake of pleasing others. if it’s something you are into I won’t judge, just be safe.

other things that might be relevant: 80s/90s/00s songs or era in general, gojo, playlist, bts, butterfly, barbie phone (??), diary, manifestation, shy, shine, that one scene in euphoria, back massage, spanking, marks, snap, sounds, fantasia (?)

🦢 that is all my beautiful pile two! thank you for your precious time, I hope you enjoyed this PAC! 🫶🏻 please keep in mind that this is a reading on current energies, these can change anytime! I am sorry for any spelling mistakes as english isn’t my first language and I haven’t proof read yet! 💖

︶֪︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶ིྀ︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶

pile 03

⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀⠀💭 justice, king of swords, two of cups, monkey, owl, camel

please keep in mind that this is a very general reading, a lot of things will come through and some of it will resonate while some things might not. focus on things that do, as they are meant for you and the rest is possibly for somebody else.

hello my beautiful pile three! 🫶🏻 this is by far the calmest pile, there is a very calm, sure, confident and well balanced out energy here, it’s honestly quite refreshing.

are you a person who asks for signs a lot? because some people’s guides here seem pretty annoyed. they have been sending them but you either ignore them or miss them so they would like to kindly ask you to please pay attention to this reading! unfortunately it might be shorter than the other two piles but regardless I will try to expand on things as much as possible.

so, first of all I would like to start of with that this person is older than you so this is definitely an age gap relationship. I am talking older than 6 years~ they seem like a very serious person and quite honestly their current energy is stressed.

I don’t think they are focused on sex, or intimate things in general at the moment. they have very little experience and for some of you they have been saving themselves for marriage. (yes, even if they are older.) this could be either because of religious reasons or their very own principles. either way they look at sharing their body with someone as something very intimate, special, something that only the love of their life is deserving of. they look at it in a very precious light, it’s something they treasure.

now, they do not mind if you have more experience than them. it’s just that for them there needs to be a special connection before they allow someone to have access to their body and the other way around. they don’t wish to engage in anything sexual or intimate (so, even if it’s a kiss.) unless they are in love with the person. if there are no mutual feelings involved this person will one hundred precent be uninterested. so, I will be honest with you pile three, your future spouse/chosen person might very well be demisexual. (for those who are unaware it’s a form of asexuality. demisexual people can still have and enjoy sex, however they will need a strong bond in order to go that far. I recommend searching it up if that resonates. 🫶🏻)

because of this they might be unaware of some if not most of their kinks. or even be lost about why some things might be appealing to people. their energy is really disinterested.

not necessarily in you though. for you pile three they would be shy, needy and want to try out many things. it’s just that they have zero desires aside from you. you will awaken a lot of things inside them, make them realise many things about themselves that they never had any idea about. for some of you, you might be the first person (and probably last) to ever get them hard/wet or possibly you would be the first ever reason they orgasm. it’s not like they have problems, your body just has that kind of affect on them.

they find you beautiful, every inch of you. they could really like your waist and skin. if you have a darker skin tone (tan to black) they are over the moon. not in a fetish kind of way, they just find you beautiful. your beauty is enough to turn them on honestly, you don’t even have to be naked. If you are though they will be the neediest, clingiest person ever. kissing every inch of your body between praises. sucking and biting your skin as they grab your thighs, ass, waist, play with your chest.. whatever you let them. they just want to feel you under their hands. to know you are there, to know you are theirs.

they also really like the way you taste, especially if you like sweets. (they just really wanted me to highlight this… do some of you like pineapples?)

if you are on the chubbier side they love it. some of you might be really anxious about your body type but they honestly think you are the most beautiful ever. at times they could/will stare at you in awe, checking you up and down and getting turned on just by the sight. might even bite their lip. they seem to really really like your stomach, waist, hips and butt. their energy is still shy but they are one horny mf.

they will want to make love to you on some kind of desk, possibly have many fantasies of it. (not exactly the words their guides used, but it felt wrong to use for this pile.) honestly some of you might be coworkers even despite the age gap.

despite their lack of experience they seem to know what they like, which is you bending over and screaming their name while you whine, moan and cry uncontrollably from pleasure.

do you guys know that one ship that started as a joke? nanami x tiana. you two remind me of that.

𐙚ᅠ what are their kinks?

possibly something with clothes. maybe massaging them through pants/skirt or having sex with clothes on. they seem to be curious of ripping them off you too but they are unsure if they would like the after math of it. (aka destroyed clothes)

they seem to have a thing for sun x moon dynamic. as in polar opposites. it could possibly turn them on for some reason. (ofc they still want to have things in common)

possibly blowjob under the desk while they are working.. they seem to be curious about how far they could go before it gets too good? as in before the feeling of pleasure makes it impossible to focus.

unfortunately I cannot tell you more than this as they seem very unsure too. </3

other things that could be relevant: ‘finally your dreams come true’, princess and the frog (seriously), ‘almost there, closer closer everyday’, sneezes, scarfs & earmuffs, eyeshadow, dinner date, romance/romantic/romantica, books, acts of service, sweets

🦢 that is all my beautiful pile three! thank you for your precious time, I hope you enjoyed this PAC! 🫶🏻 please keep in mind that this is a reading on current energies, these can change anytime! I am sorry for any spelling mistakes as english isn’t my first language and I haven’t proof read yet! 💖

[dropoutconfessions]

Everyone’s allowed to feel how they feel about K. You do not HAVE to like K. K is an imagination people and does not matter compared to reality people.

The actual problems that I think all this discourse is stemming from is a problem in not just fandom here but in fandom as a whole. It’s a problem of trends: Why is our attention so frequently held by the masculine and white? Why, when we expand the world and look into the interiority of side characters, is our focus so targeted on white men? Why are women so overlooked, why are people of color so often ignored?

This is a wider issue. A trickling down of real world racism affecting our little play spaces. And the problem is that an issue which appears in larger trends, an issue that is a general pattern of behavior, is not easy to fix. We can’t fix this by harassing individual people. We can’t fix this by ignoring it. We definitely can’t fix it by pretending like its a problem here and only here rather than everywhere.

I wouldn’t be so bitter about K and dislike of K if I wasn’t overly sensitive to the idea of POC and femme characters getting the short end of the stick. I wouldn’t be so apprehensive about SamEvan, which is a frankly adorable and lovely ship, if I could trust people in general to act right about black women. I wouldn’t be so mad when people call Jammer and his friends rude while ignoring anything Evan did if I hadn’t seen it as the start of a malicious pattern.

If I hadn’t been in fandoms where every single woman got called a Hideous Bitch and every single person of color was Secretly Evil then I wouldn’t even be posting this. If I hadn’t seen people latch onto men with three lines and refuse to even consider thinking about women with entire arcs, I wouldn’t care about the lack of K posts. It would just be opinion. But it’s not just opinion when it happens over and over again to the same kinds of characters every time.

I don’t think it’s that bad in the mismag fandom. I don’t WANT it to get that bad here. But I don’t know how else to stop it, so I type up little confessions, and I hope someone reads them and thinks about this shit a little bit before they post.

I think people should calm down and stop insulting each other. I think people should take a break, if they need one, from fandom. I think people should leave each other alone and quit passive aggressively throwing ‘shade’ at opinions they don’t like because there is NOTHING wrong with individual opinion. There IS something wrong with the pattern its a part of but you can’t blame a person for a pattern you see in them or else you’ll end up snapping at a monster that isn’t even there yet.

Most of what I want is for people to think about how they think. Nobody has to stop liking Evan (ofc) but it is and should be concerning that even in this relatively progressive space, I keep seeing the same patterns creep their subtle and insidious way into the things I love.

I think we can all do better than this. I think we can do much better. I think we deserve better, all of us, than all of this.

-

[awkward-fink]

„Love you, please take care of yourself.” You say, your fingers clutching onto the doorframe so hard you would surely leave imprints behind, but you didn’t care in this moment. Because in front of you stands your husband, lopsided smile on his face, clean shaven and his mohawk freshly touched up by your hands and his careful instructions. "Love ye back, hen. Ah'll be back quicker than ye can believe." He murmurs to you, accent thick and his eyes bright.

You don’t want him to go, you don’t want him to leave you behind again and do something crazy he will tell you all about later (or Gaz will spill the beans, like the time your husband decided to nearly drop a half of a warehouse on his head! Thank you Gaz.).

“It’s jist three months, gie or tak a wee bit, love. Ah’ll be back sune.” “I’m gonna miss you so much, Love.” “Ah'm gonnae miss ye even mair.” “Did you pack the lunch I ma-“ you cant end your sentence as your husband leans into your face, his lips warm and inviting and firm on your own, shutting up every train of thought you had as he kisses you breathless and stupid.

You only remember after you had closed the front door, calmed your racing heart and looked into the kitchen. And there it was, the small package of sandwiches you had made for your husband to take with him, untouched and sloppily wrapped, just like you had placed them there. And the lunch you had made, spaghettis with tomato sauce, was also untouched. Your heart sank.

----------------------------------------

“-and then he just goes off to wherever and leaves behind the meal I made for him! This isn’t fair, Leonora!” you pant at the end of your tirade, angrily huffing and growling as you drink the tea your friend and neighbor made in one go, nearly burning your tongue in the process.

“Oh dear, well, honey, how do I say this…” your elderly neighbor wiggled her glasses with one finger, tilting her head from left to right, the curls on top of her head not even moving once. (Soap had once joked that Leonora put so much gel and hairspray into her mountain of curls, she could headbutt any men or women into submission with only one headshake.) “Your food is…” Your shoulders shake and sag as you watch your friend try to think of a way to describe your food in a way that would not totally mortify you or send your soul into hell.

“Bad? A disaster? Hellish? Even a demon would recoil from that torture?” “No, Honey- what I meant to say was, that you have a talent.” Your posture straightens and your eyes glimmer in hope- “You have the talent to burn water.” – only to turn watery and gloomy as your friend goes on with her words.

“That’s not nice…” “But sadly true.”

Leonora leans over the table to pat your shoulder gently, giving you a smile like only a loving grandmother can give. Your eyes turn towards the forgotten sandwiches, which looked even sadder than before and yes, maybe it smelled a little off, but it surely couldn’t be that bad…

You both watch as the single cucumber slice slowly slides down at the side, giving a squelching plopping sound as it hit the table. There is silence for a few seconds before you turn hurt and sad eyes on Leonora, who only pats your shoulders again.

“Kyle told me, that Johnny prefers the mess hall food over mine. The mess hall! No one likes the food from the mess hall!” you are close to sobbing, clutching the mug of tea to your chest like a lifeline.

“Oh dear... Well, there is one thing we can do.” “There is?” “I meet my other friends every Tuesday night for a bit of cards and cooking. How about you come beforehand, and I can teach you some recipes? And the base techniques of cooking?” “You would do that for me?” “Yes, dear. Can’t have your man avoiding home because you cant cook. Think about the children you will have to feed someday!” “You are a saint! Thank you! Please, I beg of you, help me!”

You felt better now, Leonora would help you, she would rescue your culinary skills from the depths of nothing they were at and rise you up towards normal housewife-level meals, you were sure! This would be a piece of cake!

---------------------------------------------------

IT WAS NOT A PIECE OF CAKE! Leonora was menace, a demon from hell! She was a strict and harsh teacher, and you lost count of all the times she hit your arse with a wooden cooking spoon. It felt like you lived through a montage of training! It started with only Tuesdays and then Thursdays as well, and Sundays to help with baking for church! And then Leonoras friends, a gang of grannies, took it upon themselves to further your training!

You chopped and sliced and diced and julienned until your hands could do it perfectly in your sleep (“That is not uniform, this piece of carrot it slightly off! Again!” Julia barked at you, the waif of a woman poking you with her bony fingers until you got it right).

You helped with shopping, hauling load after load of ingredients, having to run back to the shops every time you got some of the listed items wrong (“This is a bitter melon and not a cucumber, run again little chicken, run again!” Tia Zia cackled after you, sending you right back out into the rain again to run to the store before it closed in 5 minutes).

Soon you were frying (“Make it hotter, the potatoes will soak up all the oil if its not hot enough!”), baking (“Is that salt in the cookies? Honey where was your head?”), kneading Pasta from scratch and finally, you cooked a whole meal for the gang of furious grannies and felt like you were back in school, in your exams, your heart racing as the committee of specialists discussed your results before turning to you with hard eyes and grim faces.

“Dear, this food is-“your heart sank and raced at the same time, your stomach dropping as Aunty Angela cracked her neck as she tried to look at you sternly, “this food is good. It is edible and even tastes better than what my niece Lilly makes. Congratulations!”

----------------------------------------------

“You sure you don’t want to go to another diner before I get you home to your wife?” Johnny snorted and rubbed his overfilled stomach. He was sure he was having a foodbaby growing in there after this morning and this midday. His teammates had stuffed him with pancakes and hashbrowns and every other item of breakfast they could get their hands on and then they did it again at lunch! He was so full; he would hurl if he had to eat another piece of food!

“Naw, it’s awright. Ah’m fair burst, ah cannae eat another thing. An’ Gaz promised he’d send me a care package in a few days.” He smiles at his Captain, rubbing his bulging stomach and fighting down a burp that was stuck in his throat. “Yeah well... next mission is not so far away, no worry. And Ghost packed the rest of the MRE’s into your bag for emergencies.” “Ta, Captain. She's a braw wife in everythin' else, but her cookin' is…” he falls silent and only grins. And then the car is already coming to a stop and his heart beats faster in his chest. He is so close to take his wife into his arms again, to kiss her silly and then sweep her off her feet and into the bedroom, where- “Cheers fur the lift, Captain. Right nice o’ ye!.” “Was on the way. See you soon, stay strong.” “A'll dae that! See ye in a few days tae weeks!" Johnny gives a sloppy salute before rolling out of the car, dragging his luggage out from the backseat to lug it right after him.

And then he is off, loping up the way towards the front door, which is already opening and his wife, the love of his life stands before him, her eyes shining and her hair glossy and her skin looking silky smooth and soft and he can’t wait to wrap his rough hands around her and sink into her softness, be back home again.

He doesn’t remember what he said, or what she wanted to say, his lips are on hers, his arms hold her tight to himself and they stumble inside. And then he comes to a stop, his nose twitching as he sniffs the air, his head turning towards the kitchen. “Sointhing smells awfy guid.” He murmurs and stares at you as if you had grown a second head. “Thank you, it’s a new recipe I tried.” He swallows, his mouth watering. His eyes roaming over her happy glowing face. “Ye... ye cooked this?" “Yeah. And don’t worry, I followed the recipe to a T.” You beam at him, your hands stroking over his arms and shoulders and down his torso, making sure he was alright, holding onto him with delight and happiness radiating from you.

And Johnny, still filled with food and stuffed to the gills with cheap cheeseburgers from lunch, takes another whiff before a soft, but cautious smile steals over his lips. “Ah could dae with some food."

----------------------------------------------

He must have died. It tasted great.

[clover-system]

The longest list of anti-endo sources I've ever seen

While trying to find something else using Tumblr's infamous search engine, I came across this absolute gem:

NINE SOURCES!!! That's a record!! This is incredible!

@radpocalypse, listen. I am about to tear these to shreds, but before I do, I want you to know that you have my respect for not only compiling the longest list of sources I have ever seen an anti-endo provide, and not only doing so seemingly not directly prompted, but typing out every single link by hand, on mobile, without making a single mistake. Incredible work.

And also, to be completely honest, if I had nine sources supporting a belief, I almost certainly wouldn't look into them this closely. But, hey, that's what strangers on the internet with opposing views are for.

One more thing before the debunk: Endogenic systems do not claim to have DID etc. without trauma. They just don't. Whether it could be possible is often debated as an edge case, usually just to win an argument against someone of the opposing side, but really, it's irrelevant for 99% of the community. A good chunk are questioning OSDD based on later trauma, but as far as I am aware, no one on this website is claiming a completely endogenic plural disorder.

However, I don't want to dismiss entire pages based on this alone without further commentary, and it's a fun intellectual exercise regardless. So, whenever I use green text, I'm just playing Devil's Advocate under the premise of "If I was claiming to have DID without trauma (which neither I nor anyone else afaik is), would this source actually debunk that claim?" My syster will also occasionally pop in with purple, since she was cocon while I was writing this.

My dad just walked into my room and literally said "hey how it's going". You know, like. Like that one post. Amazing.

Anyway, civility established. Now come along with me on this long long journey of ten minutes of reading. Maybe put some music on in the background, if that will help you get through it. I had Near's Theme on while writing.

Here we go.

Link 1: McLean Hospital

Ok, main thing that caught my eye was

According to a 2010 Psychiatric Times article, only 5% of people with DID exhibit obvious switching between identity “states.”

Very interesting! Even with all of the "idk who's fronting" memes, 5% is really not that high. Though maybe online spaces like these help train the ability to identify it? The reference trail leads back to a book by Kluft but I don't really feel like going through dozens of pages for this. Definitely making a note of this though; I wonder if there have been any follow-up studies on this.

Not much to say here other than that. No mention of plurality outside DID.

DID is associated with long-term exposure to trauma, often chronic traumatic experiences during early childhood.

Dissociation—or disconnection from one’s sense of self or environment—can be a response to trauma.

Dissociative identity disorder—a type of dissociative disorder—most often develops during early childhood in kids who are experiencing long-term trauma. This typically involves emotional, physical, and/or sexual abuse; neglect; and highly unpredictable interactions with caregivers.

Why "associated", not "is caused by"? Why "can", not "is"? Why "most often", etc.?

Why such weak language?

Not that it couldn't be weaker.

I vaguely remember McLean getting into some hot water regarding a video they posted about DID, but didn't find anything concrete. Half-remembered anecdote aside, the author seems well-qualified.

C-tier debunk of this position. It's not nothing but it could be a lot better.

Link 2: Psych Central

It occurs in women 9 times more often than in men.

Very interesting statistic, but no citation provided.

Alters can show striking differences. For instance, one alter may speak with a different accent or have a softer way of speaking. They might have different opinions or a different gender identity, and even physical differences — like left- or right-handedness, or the need for a glasses prescription.

That's quite a stark difference here compared to the McLean article. What happened to "alters aren't that noticeable"?

But whatever, these are just interesting tidbits. None of this has anything to do with endogenic plurality. Nothing like "this is the only way to be multiple", no comment whatsoever.

DID is usually associated with adverse experiences in someone’s past and traumatic memories.

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is a mental health condition with strong links to trauma, especially trauma in childhood.

Bruh. This again?

In fact, the American Psychiatric Association reports that 90% of people with DID have a history of childhood abuse and neglect, based on research from the United States, Canada, and Europe.

Bruh. Seriously? 90%? You know what that leaves, right?

According to your own source, 10% of DID systems are endogenic.

But let's break this down. There's a big difference between the system being endogenic, and the DID being endogenic. This statistic is specifically referring to childhood trauma.

The wording's plenty vague though. This can absolutely be read as completely endogenic DID.

One review article from 2017 about the causes of DID noted that there was relatively little research on the condition to date.

The authors said researchers hadn’t yet investigated potential genetic and epigenetic factors. With epigenetic factors, the experiences and behaviors of your parents and ancestors can influence the function of the genes they pass down to you.

The authors of the review said scientists needed to do more research to investigate whether a person with DID might carry genes that can influence if they develop the condition or not.

This is particularly promising because studies have already shown that genes can influence dissociative disorders in general.

So you're telling me DID might be able to be passed down one or two generations? Wow. Again, this still has nothing to do with endogenic plurality, but I'm really glad I decided to play with this second angle, because it's so much more fun. We're certainly not at intentional self-inflicted DID here, but we are at this point a long way from certainly needing childhood trauma in all cases.

And also the reviewer is a military psychiatrist who specializes in ADHD. So uh. Not bringing our best here.

Link 3: Mayo Clinic

Gotta love an article that's nice and short. This is just a brief summary of a bunch of dissociative disorders. Again, nothing about endogenic plurality.

Starting to run out of things to say about this. This whole post could probably be a fifth the length if I didn't feel like playing on hard mode.

Formerly known as multiple personality disorder, this disorder involves "switching" to other identities. You may feel as if you have two or more people talking or living inside your head. You may feel like you're possessed by other identities.

Each identity may have a unique name, personal history and features. These identities sometimes include differences in voice, gender, mannerisms and even such physical qualities as the need for eyeglasses.

Hey, that reminds me of someone.

There also are differences in how familiar each identity is with the others. Dissociative identity disorder usually also includes bouts of amnesia and often includes times of confused wandering.

Again, McLean looking really odd with its declaration of DID's covertness against great detail like this. However, its author is so far the best qualified. This one just says "Mayo Clinic Staff". Can't even know which of them worked on this. Some of them are psychs, but if any of them specialize in dissociative disorders, it doesn't say so.

Dissociative disorders usually arise as a reaction to shocking, distressing or painful events and help push away difficult memories.

I won't bother quoting even more wishy-washy language because this post is already at an ungodly length (about 1300 words so far) and we're barely a third done. But yeah, suffice to say, no nail-in-the-coffin 100% link to trauma.

Link 4: Rethink

We are a trusted information creator and accredited by the Patient Information Forum (PIF).

Their bold, for once. That's an alarm-ringing corporate phrase if I've ever seen one. Also, first thing on the PIF's website is "balancing the risks and benefits of AI in the production of health information". So this article might've been written by GPT. Awesome. And yeah, a lot of this whole website looks to me like a bunch of interconnected pages with stupidly long articles written by stitching together LLM generations. Does pass GPT0's test though.

This one is so long. I'll take the ten minutes to read through every word, which I don't think @radpocalypse did, just to make sure there's nothing here, but one thing that does catch my eye scrolling down to near the bottom is that they misspelled their first citation.

A quick look at this Carolyn Spring shows a lot being sold and credentials nowhere in sight. Awesome.

So already I don't need to read this. The information here is not at a high level of trustworthiness. It's maybe better than nothing, but seriously, one can and should do better. But I'll read it anyway, just for bonus points. Thanks to AccelaReader for making this bearable.

Many people will experience dissociation at some point in their lives. Lots of different things can cause you to dissociate. For example, you might dissociate when you are very stressed, or after something traumatic has happened to you.

Some of the symptoms of dissociation include the following:

You may have clear multiple identities.

It‘s important to remember that you could have the symptoms of dissociation without a dissociative disorder.

So according to this, multiple identities can be caused by intense but non-traumatic stress, and might not necessarily be a disorder. So, while I admit this is a little bit of a stretch, we're four links in and this is the first mention of plurality in general, so I'll take it. One point for endogenic plurality. (And again, none of this really matters anyway because this is the worst source so far.)

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is sometimes called ‘Multiple Personality Disorder.

If you have DID you might seem to have 2 or more different identities, called ‘alternate identities.

Two missing closing quotes. Really not a good sign.

They suggest that DID is caused by experiencing severe trauma over a long time in childhood.

Aha! Finally, something concrete against endogenic DID! Too bad it's buried in the worst source yet. If we believed we had DID, we would absolutely not reconsider that based on a sketchy webpage with suboptimal syntax and no credentials.

Ugh, finally done with that one. What a slog.

Link 5: DID Research

Aha! The infamous psych student's blog! That's what Sophie said, anyway. Not taking her word for it though. Let's see what we can find here, independently.

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is the result of repeated or long-term childhood trauma

Why wasn't this first? First sentence, so crystal clear. No two ways about this, transDID destroyed right out of the gate.

DID cannot form after ages 6-9 because individuals older than these ages have an integrated self identity and history.

Why wasn't this first? It's so plain, so refreshing after four pages of strategic ambiguity. Nothing left here for green. But still no mention of non-disordered plurality.

The author is impressively credentialed but doesn't seem to specialize quite near this area. She's certainly better than most, high above any random Tumblr user talking out of their ass, but the good stuff would be to get a DID specialist to explicitly spell out that endogenic systems are not possible.

Also should make note of this big fat legal disclaimer:

While the author strives to make information on this website as complete, reliable, and accurate as possible, the author makes no claims, promises, guarantees, or warranties about the accuracy, completeness, or adequacy of the contents of this site and expressly disclaims liability for errors and omissions in the contents of this site.

If we did claim to have DID, this would rattle us a little but could ultimately be brushed aside.

Link 6: SANE

As usual, literally nothing about endogenic plurality. I'll just greenmode this.

The majority of people with DID have been through severe trauma in early childhood

And now back to our regularly scheduled nondefinitive language.

Fun fact: highlighting text on this website turns it invisible. Awesome.

A person needs to meet the following criteria to be diagnosed with DID:

- Two or more distinct identities or personality states, each with its own way of thinking and relating. - Amnesia and gaps in the recall of everyday events, personal information or traumatic events. - The experiences are not part of normal cultural or religious practice, or part of childhood imaginary play. For example, a child having an imaginary friend does not mean they have DID. - The symptoms are not because of substance abuse or other medical conditions.

Ah finally, a direct quote from the good ol' DSM. Notice the lack of a trauma requirement.

Funny enough, using only these criteria in isolation, we actually would count as having DID due to our grayout memory gaps when switching. DID is also listed in the dissociative disorders section of the DSM, not the trauma disorders section, so there is no implied criterion there either. However, there still remains the universal criterion of distress, which we do not fulfill. We are quite happy with ourselves.

DID is caused by severe childhood trauma, such as physical, verbal or sexual abuse.

Well, which is it?? Is it a majority association or a direct cause? Why the contradiction? Or is the emphasis on early childhood trauma?

Eh, whatever. Point is, green is once again shut down. But there is still no mention of endogenic plurality anywhere here!!

And no indication of who wrote this article, though the citation for direct cause is a dissociative disorder specialist. Does he actually say that in the cited paper, though?

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is multifactorial in its etiology. Whereas psychosocial etiologies of DID include developmental traumatization and sociocognitive sequelae, biological factors include trauma-generated neurobiological responses. Biologically derived traits and epigenetic mechanisms are also likely to be at play. At this point, no direct examination of genetics has occurred in DID. However, it is likely to exist, given the genetic link to dissociation in general and in relation to childhood adversity in particular.

I hope you have a dictionary on hand. That sure is a lot of big words that aren't in Firefox's built-in spellchecker. Still, after making sure I got everything, it's clearly not so cut and dry here. And we're back on the "it could be genetic" point.

Tangentially related: I do like the dismissal of the iatrogenic model on the basis of the brain scans.

Neurobiological differences have been demonstrated between dissociative identities within patients with DID and between patients with DID and controls. Given the current evidence, DID as a diagnostic entity cannot be explained as a phenomenon created by iatrogenic influences, suggestibility, malingering, or social role-taking. On the contrary, DID is an empirically robust chronic psychiatric disorder based on neurobiological, cognitive, and interpersonal non-integration as a response to unbearable stress.

Anyway, we're not even on the original page anymore, so I'll call it here. No mention of endogenic plurality, and the citation that claims to dismiss endogenic DID doesn't.

Link 7: NAMI Michigan

While the causes [of DID] are unknown

I'm tired. Aren't you tired?

Treatment for DID consists primarily of psychotherapy with hypnosis.

Yeah I'm calling BS on this one

And no citations on this entire page, nor even the author's name.

Statistics show that DID occurs in 0.01 to 1 percent of the general population.

Research has shown that the average age for the initial development of alters is 5.9 years old.

No sources listed. This is definitely the worst link. Literally on the same level as a rambling Tumblr user in terms of credibility.

Doesn't matter that it says

This disorder is believed to be triggered by physical or sexual abuse in childhood

Couldn't even get this dogshit source to be firm.

This one gets an F.

Link 8: The Psychology Practice

Got scared for a moment there that it said ai. No, that's AL, a name. Also this was written in 2022, so we're definitely safe. Can't actually find any other info on this AL character, but at least we can look up the co-author.

Hm, can't find anything on her, either. Well, at least this is a step up from the previous link. Let's see what it has to say.

According to the Dissociative Identity Research Organisation (2018), DID is formed in childhood due to repeated trauma in early childhood (before age 10) before the personality is fully integrated.

I do like that these later links are direct with this. They don't seem to have a citation for that DIRO, though. Unless...

No. Oh no.

Ok, so this one was written by a couple of clowns who definitely didn't do their homework. Cool. I'm getting tired of humoring awful sources like this, so moving on to the grand finale.

Link 9: NAMI

Wait, this is the same group behind the zero-citation article from Michigan! But that was just Michigan. Maybe the main site can do better.

Ugh, it's just another list of dissociative disorders instead of DID specifically.

The symptoms of a dissociative disorder usually first develop as a response to a traumatic event,

Aren't you tired? Aren't you tired? Aren't you tired?

Often these identities may have unique names, characteristics, mannerisms and voices.

Often? Wow. Sure is a far cry from 5%.

Dissociative disorders are managed through various therapies including: - Psychotherapies such as cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) and dialectical behavioral therapy (DBT) - Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR) - Medications such as antidepressants can treat symptoms of related conditions

No mention of hypnosis, allegedly the primary method of treatment?? (/sarc)

and there was no mention of plurality being exclusive to dissociative disorders

Oh, and no listed authors either.

So, after three thousand words of analysis, all we've come up with are nothing burgers, dogshit, and dogshit nothing burgers. Out of nine links, only one briefly and indirectly touched on endogenic plurality, and it was in favor. Even the argument against the traumaless DID strawman is weak at best. These sources are bad, to put it lightly.

@radpocalypse, if you're reading this, firstly, thank you for powering through your ADHD and dyslexia to read thousands of words dunking on your masterpiece. Secondly, if you have any more sources that you think are backing you, feel free to send them my way. Just uh, maybe read them more closely next time?

And that goes for everyone here. If you think you have a better source, or if I made a mistake or missed something here, I am open to correction. I am open to the idea that I'm wrong and I have some unknown trauma to work through, but I certainly won't go digging unless I have good reason to believe it's there, and I haven't seen any good reason. And if you haven't either, maybe it's time to reconsider your position.

One last thing before I go.

Have you ever actually seen a pro-endo carrd, let alone one cited in standalone? I haven't.

Here's a much longer list of much better sources than yours supporting endogenic plurality compiled by the traumagenic Guardians System. I don't expect you to read anywhere near the whole thing; just pick a few links at random. And yes, while many of them are peer-reviewed papers, some of them are Tumblr posts, but those Tumblr posts cite peer-reviewed papers, so it's all good.

Thanks for reading.

[3liza]

saw a youtube sponsorship for a brand that markets itself as "masculine shoes in small sizes, for trans men" and if the entire idea wasn't already preposterous (this is part of a large scale marketing push to convince trans people that clothing that has been available on the normal heterosexual market for generations is "hard to find" so they can charge you hundreds of dollars for it), it's also ugly, and they have chosen to call their company "Tomboy Toes". if you said those two words to my face in a shoe store i would slap you

$120 for a black or brown version of the standard school uniform brogue which has been available all the way down to toddler sizes since uhhhhhhh approximately 1820.

just to double check my sense of reality i went to the largest single online shoe market on earth besides Amazon (zappos) and typed in "women's brogues" and selected size 5 which would be pushing the lower limit on the larger part of the bell curve of adult AFAB people on earth, or at least the northern hemisphere, and there are many options in approximately the same price range depending on brand name, with sales regularly down to much less, on similar or identical styles. ebay also. Tomboy Toes carries down to size EU33 which is around 3.5 US Women's and again, that's just in the children's section if you need Picture Day/uniform (children)/ Office Whatever (adult) Shoes and they are on eBay lightly used in great numbers because kids grow out of them in 6-10 months.

is it annoying to be shopping in "women's section" or "kids section" for these things when you are an adult man. yes. so i dont understand the marketing impetus to replicate that exact scenario by naming your company for adult trans men something i would assume was a sassy yet misguided terf brand if i found it on a label in a generic wingtip at Goodwill. cis men who are very small also have to shop in the small sections for their small clothes. i am wearing a t-shirt meant for a 7 year old right now, it says so on the label. it fits me better than any of the shirts i own that are made for the standard american adult. i literally have bigger things to worry about

naturally their "vegan leather" selection is much larger but again, it's ugly Trendy Booties that will fall apart in a year and are, i cant emphasize this enough, made of plastic, nothing special, and in standard women and children's sizes which are already plentiful at every shoe retailer. why are we letting these "trans brands" charge us a $100 tax to pretend to take us seriously (while at the same time calling us "tomboys")? does anyone know

i do, its actually because of the learned helplessness issue again. the accepted wisdom at the tumblr layer of transness is 'its so hard to find [item of clothing that is suitable for trans people]" because the knowledge of how to shop for these items in the actual market has completely evaporated within the last ten years, i watched it happen right in front of me. but it's a complete fallacy, you can find this stuff easily. you can find large women's shoes, small men's shoes, women's clothing with wide shoulders or long torsos, there are entire stores for this already and measurements and sectiions within "department stores" (such as they are) and then after that there are one million billion foam inserts and seams and button placements and belts and scarves and gloves and hem lengths and blah blah blah that trans people and also cis people who are not standard-shaped or who just want their shoes or bras or shirts to fit have already been using for thousands of years so ive been mad about this all day. TOMBOY TOES. they are having us for absolute fools. just call me a slur at this point

i already know some nincompoop is going to match me paragraph for paragraph in a heated defense of the hundred dollar jingle keys boring shoes so i just want them to know in advance: we are not the same. i have so many cool shoes it is unbelievable. in every gender imaginable. and i didn't pay more than like $50 for any of them. also no theres no cheat sheet to learning to buy clothing for your body, i do not say this with any rancor either, its just hard, it takes a long time, and i dont have a cheatsheet for it because there isnt one. except rule #1: dont buy $120 boring ugly shoes from someone jingling their keys in front of your face and calling it Queer Fashion when you can get them for a lot less basically anywhere $120 isnt even a lot for a GOOD pair for mid-range, non-designer leather dress shoes. if you know they will last for ten years and stand up to resoling, it's completely fine. but not for thooooooose

[thesirencult]

YOU NEED PEOPLE LIKE ME / DARK PSYCHOLOGY

You need people like me. You need people like me so you can point your f*****’ fingers and say, “That’s the bad guy.” So what that make you? Good? You’re not good. You just know how to hide, how to lie.

(Tony Montana, Scarface)

Most people can not handle their darker side. They can not handle their ego and their deepest desires. Now, I'm not telling you to become like Tony Montana. He was consumed by his vices and they run the show for him. I'm telling you to do what you what to do and to stop lying to yourself and hiding from your true nature.

A couple of years ago, I met a girl who had an obsession with finding a wealthy man. She did not care about anything else other than the money. In her defense, she grew up in a poor family where, her dad beat her mom up and he even did that while her mom was pregnant with her.

That girl was studying finance. She took up Arabic and wanted to work for off shore companies where she could find a husband. She specifically told me she wanted her husband to drive a Porsche which has more prestige than a BMW and buy her a BMW cause the woman should be beneath her husband. Overall she was "micey" in character. If you didn't know her you would think she was shy and religious, but. you should know better guys, these people have more ego problems than the most outspoken, egomaniac extrovert.

So, she looked "weak" but had an agenda. She also was trying to give off the "trad wife" vibe but salivated as soon as a man breathed her direction and shamed any woman who showcased her seductiveness.

A few days ago, she messaged me. She wanted to grab a coffee with me as she would be in town. I was surprised when I saw her. In the "kindest" way I can put it, she looked like women who run on every single rally around and fight for justice (nothing wrong with taht, but if you're following me I bet you get what I'm trying to convey). A white girl with Bob Marley braids! Yup, there it is!

She told me she had given up Arabic and no longer wanted to work in a big shipping corporation because that supported big oil and their agenda. She then preached to me about equality and why the left is supreme. Now, I'm pretty straightforward so I asked her, how and why her views changed. She wanted to own 3 cars and be a stay at home mom! She looked outside the window of the coffee shop and saw my parked car.

"Do you see this car?"

I said "Yeah, I see it."

"Whoever drives this car is a right wing egomaniac who doesn't care about the environment and just wants to flaunt their money." (my car is a hybrid you guys!)

"Do you drive?"

"No, I can not afford a license and my family owns only one car. Also, I'm scared of driving. Also, did I tell you I'm running on the elections with the *left wing side*. Will you vote for me? If I make it I'll get 2k per month plus health care benefits."

"That's my car. I was going to ask you, do you want to take the train home or will you ride with me?" I just wanted this meeting to bo over, to tell you the truth.

She came with me.

Wanna know why? Here is my hypothesis (and it ties in with Tony Montana's words):

99% of people give up on their dreams by age 23. In order to make it easier for them and help them soothe the guilt this breeds, they begin to drift to the opposite "side" of the court. Pornstars turn to trad wives. Playboys turn to "faithful" husbands who preach the word of the Lord. Money and power hungry individuals take up boring jobs and blame the rich and the goverment for everything. Men who can not pick up women turn to red pill guys and so on and so forth.

Most people can not handle their darker side. They can not handle their ego and their deepest desires. Now, I'm not telling you to become like Tony Montana, he was consumed by his vices and that's who runs the show. Either you run the show or someone else or something (an addiction) runs it for you.

We see all that often with sex. Body counts, "I can not find a good man/woman" etc. People who can not get what they want hate those that have the GUTS to get it.

If my acquaintance's beliefs are that strong why did she enjoy the drive in the luxury SUV? Why did she then ask me when are we going out again and if I can bring "that" guy friend who runs a tech start up?

Because they are not her beliefs. They are just a cover up. A mask.

We've all seen how happy some people get when a dreamer fails.

So, go one. Fail. You''ll succeed at some point. You're better than those who sit on the sidelines running their mouth.

They would want to be at your shoes. They would want to run free on the court.

Own that. Own yourself and run after your goals and desires. Fuck them.

[newtthetranswriter]

Hi! I saw you were wanting some requests, and I was wondering if I could request some fluffy headcannons for Gajeel, Bickslow, Freed, and Gray?? The idea I have is for a female reader who's either as physically strong or a little stronger than them, really well built from training to get to that point. Like a lot of people, sometimes she gets insecure about how she looks, and sometimes she feels like she has too much of a more stereotypical masculine build. So I was wondering if you could do some headcannons about what the guys would do to make sure she knows she's perfect the way she is in their eyes? You don't have to if you don't want to, of course. Either way, I appreciate you even looking at the request!

A/n: Hi! Thank you so much for the request. I hope I captured what you were hoping for. Anyways enjoy and remember to hydrate or diedrate.

Gajeel:

Gajeel does not care how strong you are or how muscular you look, as long as you are happy he’s happy.

He’s not the best with words so if you’re having a bad day he will first offer to do things with you

“Do you want to spar?” or “We could go out?” His goal is to try and get you out of your head by shifting your focus elsewhere.

If going to do something doesn’t work, be ready for physical affection

He will hug you like his life depends on it and if the hug doesn’t work he’s got back up plans

Back up plan number one, placing kisses to every part of your body that makes you feel insecure

Every kiss holds so much love that he hopes you understand just how much you mean to him

Back up plan number two, this is really his last ditch effort because again this man sucks at expressing things verbally

He will stumble over his words as he explains that he loves every single thing about you and how proud he is that you chose to work so hard to be exactly who you want to be

Gajeel over all is just a super caring guy, he’s just not the best at verbally explaining things so bare with him

Bickslow:

Bickslow definitely has his moments

He comes off as someone who can’t take anything seriously and so at first he may not realize when you’re having a hard time

His go to is making jokes and trying to lighten the mood, when that doesn’t work he’ll take moment to think

Once he realizes why you aren’t feeling the best he goes into straight comfort mode

Expect hugs and compliments, some compliments may be on the more suggestive side but he’s trying

Also expect his dolls to try and comfort you as well, mostly just floating closer to you and repeating Bickslow’s words of affirmation

Bickslow definitely takes a more silly approach at first, but be patient he’ll figure it out

Freed:

Freed is probably the most direct of the men on this list

He’s super observant so he would easily pick up on the fact that you aren’t feeling great

Instead of trying to reassure you through physical affection or sweet compliments, he’s more straight forward

He’ll tell you straight up that you are perfect the you are and being strong is nothing to feel bad about

He will also express how no matter what anyone else may say about your appearance  you will always be perfect in his opinion

Again Freed is very direct and straightforward, but if his direct approach doesn’t work well he will fold and dish out kisses and hugs to help you feel better

Gray:

I think we can all agree Gray is also not great with his words

He would fumble over ways to make you feel better before settling on one of three plans

First plan, offer to spar and express how great it is to be on equal footing with you

Second plan, physical affection. Kisses and hugs that express his love for you

Third plan, words of encouragement. Directly complimenting you and how strong you are.

If he’s going with plan three he is definitely going to use Erza as an example, afterall she is the perfect example of a strong beautiful women

He’s not doing it to compare you to her but just to show you that you aren’t the only one and you don’t need to feel bad about being more muscular than others.

[endthedream]

a sweet melody

pairing: siren!haechan x human!reader (she/her)

summary: Insanity isn’t what she expected to receive when she joined her father and his crew on an expedition, full of men who think she isn’t capable of anything. But it’s all that she got after seeing nothing but endless water every single day. Maybe that’s why her mind started imagining a strange boy who finally shows her the appreciation she deserves. Maybe that’s why she ignores the way she can’t escape the trance he puts her in whenever he sings a melody for her. Or maybe everything is real, and the boy isn’t who he pretending to be.

words: 12.5k

story colour: green

some warnings:

it’s angst, the word “killing” gets mentioned a few times but nothing happens, heavy manipulation

masterlist of ‘nct dream as super natural creatures’

August 2nd, 1878

Day 25 on sea

I don’t remember the feeling of solid ground under my feet. Grass under my toes, touching stone walls or sleeping in a soft bed that isn’t rocking from the waves crashing against the ship.

I don’t remember the taste of air that isn’t filled with salt. The taste of anything other than fish.

I don’t remember not being nauseous every day, not fighting against boredom, not having to talk to myself in order to stay sane. Having to remind myself that I am me and this expedition isn’t pointless and could possibly make us rich until the day we die.

Father told me to write down my thoughts, he senses that I’m slowly losing my mind. But how can’t I? All I see, day and night, are endless expanses of water. No land in sight. We are miles and miles away from civilization. Alone with the sea and what lays beneath it. That thought can be frightening sometimes.

My brother called me a wimp, told me I should have just stayed at home and let the men handle it. I think he is the one who is a wimp. He’s scared of the power women can hold in a world that is overpowered by men. He doesn’t want me here, thinks I belong only at home like the other women in our city. But I don’t believe that even for one second. I have so much more potential than cooking and taking care of children. I’m an explorer, an adventurer, a researcher. I belong exactly here with my brother, my father and his crew.

I am so much more than all of them point me out to be and I know I can prove exactly that to them. I can prove that women can do all things men have been doing for years, maybe even better. I will prove it, even if it makes me go insane.

August 7th, 1878

Day 30 on sea

I miss my mother. I miss her comforting words, her warm arms and the smell of her perfume. Father misses her too. We talked last night while watching the waves under the moonlit sky. He told me he thinks she is watching over us, protecting us from unknown dangers. He told me that he thinks she is proud of us, especially me, for having the courage to explore the sea. I think he is right. Mother would have loved for us to do the things she always dreamt of doing. Exploring. She always wanted to know what lays beyond the sea, know the secrets behind it and write it all down.

Mother was the creative one in our family. She wrote poems, drew beautiful paintings and crafted useful things out of our waste. There was nothing she couldn’t do, no challenge she couldn’t face. I admired her for that, looked up to her and wanted to be like her. Father says that sometimes he sees a bit of her in me, a bit of her creativity leaking out of my aura, but most of the time I am like him. A big pighead who is way too nosy for their own good. But he also said that this trait will help me on our journey.

“We need people like you.”, he spoke as he looked into the sparkling reflection of the stars on the water. “People who are brave and people who are inquisitive. People who don’t stop when it gets too much and get driven by the passion of wanting to know what lays beneath the unknown. That’s why I want you here.”

“But why did you bring my brother as well? He is nothing like that.” My comment made him let out a quiet laugh, a sound I haven’t heard from him in a while.

“Because he can fight. We need people like that as well.”

Our talk was over after that. He went to sleep, and I stayed up, watching the stars in the dark night sky and thinking about his words. Does he really want me here or is he just being nice to me because I’m his daughter? The others on the ship are not shy to express their dislike for me. I’m not taking it to heart since they care more about my gender than my capabilities. But I care about my father’s opinion. I care what he thinks about me being on this ship with him and if he thinks that I should have stayed at home like everyone else is telling me.

I hope he didn’t lie to me. I hope that his words were sincere, and he actually wants me to be here. Because I think it would shatter me if he didn’t.

I figured I should talk more about my current mental state. Every day I try not to show how much it affects me that even though there are so many people on this ship, I’m still alone. No one wants to talk to me, no one cares about my opinion, and no one wants me here. I spend most of the day watching the ocean, listening to the waves and the birds stopping by. When I see something, an animal or even just seaweed, I write it down and draw a picture of it. It helps me a bit, I think, but I’m not quite sure.

Yesterday a boy, his name is Jisung, let me help him prepare a fish. It was the first time someone had spoken to me without throwing an insult at my head. I haven’t seen him much around the ship since he spends most of the time in the kitchen with his father. But he seemed nice enough, even though as soon as another crew member approached us, Jisung ran away from me, not wanting to be seen with the “intruder”. I wasn’t offended by it, at least I got to eat a nice fish for dinner.

But I’m wandering again. My mental state. I do think I’m getting a bit… well, crazy. But who isn’t? Everyone on this ship is going through the withdrawal of feeling solid ground under their toes and seeing anything other than salt water every single day.

I think we all are slowly losing it.

August 15th, 1878

Day 38 on sea

The air was nice today. It smelled fresher than before, kind of like we entered a new world overnight.

It just felt so clean.

Maybe that’s exactly what I needed, some fresh and clear air, something that removed the mess inside of me as well. Father said that fresh air always helps with an occupied mind. I guess his thesis has been proven right.

I should listen to him more.

He is old and keeps to himself most of the time, but when he actually does talk, it has an impact. Just yesterday two of the men on the boat accidently- in a drunken manor- knocked over two wooden boxes full of fish we haunted, leaving us with not much left. Father was furious, I could tell by the look on his face, but he kept his calm image. He went up to the two men and instead of screaming, he just stared at them for a few minutes. I think his eyes were what intimated them the most.

“You realize what you just did?”, he asked them, and I never heard his voice being so cold. They just nodded their heads, eyes widened like they were deer’s getting hunted by a wolf. “You realize what that means for the two of you?” Hesitation lingered in their demeanor. Clearly, they didn’t know what consequences followed their stupid mistake.

“Since you prevented us from having a week stock of fish, I’m going to do the same to you. That means limited access to food, no alcohol anymore and you are going to clean the boat from front to back. I want to see it spotless. Are we clear?” Again, their heads nodded faster than the wind blowing my hair away. They hurried off after being dismissed, leaving me standing there as father let out a long sigh.

It must be hard, having to be in charge of a bunch of grown men who act like children. And it must be hard seeing your own children having to face some of their own hardships as well. I’m not saying my brother is having a hard time on this ship, I’m saying in general. Someone filled with that much piled up anger, like my brother, must have some troubles they can’t communicate themselves.

It’s not like I have never tried. Talking to him, I mean. I did, plenty of times. But he never listens. And he never talks. I think it is the masculinity they force upon boys these days. It starts in school when they are just little fellows and continues all the way into adult hood. It teaches them not to cry, to hide their emotions and be strong.

I think that is stupid. I think that as human beings we were created to show our emotions. It’s our darn right to let ourselves feel everything freely without having to hide it.

But my brother is taking it seriously, says that the people in school would make fun of him if he’s showing weakness. Weakness. That is stupid. I think that hiding your emotions and building up this wrong image in which you hide behind a made-up strength, is what makes you weak.

I told him that and he just said: “And that’s why you’re a woman. You wouldn’t survive a minute being a man.”

And you wouldn’t survive a minute being a woman either. But I didn’t say that. I didn’t want to make him more upset, and I especially didn’t want to start a discussion about men and women with him. It is pointless, because no matter what I say, he will never see us as equals.

I wish I were closer to my brother. I wish he wouldn’t have to think about all this stupid stuff. And I wish I could live in a world where I could freely express myself without having to justify my every move.

I wish, I wish, I wish.

August 19th, 1878

Day 42 on sea

We saw dolphins today. They were swimming right beside our ship, jumping high up into the air and whistling at us. It was a magical moment, watching them happily swim, eager to interact with us. I even got to draw a picture of them. And for a moment I forgot that my mind is constantly spinning in a spiral. I just sat there, enjoying the short moment of peace, before it got destroyed.

Some of the men on the ship, clearly drunk, threw bottles at the dolphins, slurring insulting words at them. The dolphins swam away shortly after, but the bottles stayed where they threw them, in the ocean. I was so mad that I went up to one of the men, yelling some pretty mean words as well.

“Are you out of your mind, you drunk filthy piece of shit? Not only did you hurt poor helpless animals that were clearly eager to interact with us, but you also polluted the ocean with your stupid bottles of alcohol. Are you really that messed up in your head to think this was a good idea? I don’t even get why you are on this god forsaken ship. You are clearly not good for anything other than drinking your days away and only caring about yourselves. And you call yourself a man. You are nothing but a pathetic little boy, wanting everyone’s attention. You disgust me, you pig.”

I can’t remember much afterwards, only the stinging feeling against my cheek, a foot against my rip cage and someone yelling to stop. I woke up not long ago. The ship is quiet, so I assume it’s already in the middle of the night and everyone is sleeping, but I’m too scared to look. My body hurts, every time I move only a slight bit, a crushing pain curses through my bones.

When I close my eyes, everything is spinning, so I don’t close my eyes anymore.

I don’t regret what I said to that man. I don’t regret standing up to myself. I had to endure a worse treatment for a longer time and could handle it. It is not my fault that he couldn’t handle a bit of critique. All I hope is that this pain will go away soon. The pain inside and outside.

I’ve been thinking, maybe a bit too much. What if I change my way of thinking? What if instead of letting the ocean hurt me, I will let it heal me? What if instead of letting the loneliness consume me, I will let it lead me? Maybe all I have to do to get better is to change the way I approach this expedition.

And now that I have written it down, I will have to do it. My mother always said words only count when you write them on a piece of paper. In that way it is like a contract, unbreakable. It is like an oath you swear only to yourself, and those should be the most precious ones. She said you should always keep the promises you give to yourself, because after all, at the very end you will always have yourself to count on. Mother was a wise lady. A wise and confident woman, that I always looked up to. She was never afraid to speak her mind and stand up for her beliefs, I admired that side of her so much. And I know my dad also admired that.

Sometimes I forget that he lost his wife, I forget that he is still grieving. Because it looks so easy for him. It doesn’t look like he is compulsively taken of on a ship to “explore the unknown” just to get away from home and the recuring memories of the woman he loved so dearly. It looks like he created a team of the best- that’s arguable- men out there and took of to explore. He looks like a hero, not a broken man.

He hides everything so well. I wish he would have taught me how to do that.

August 20th, 1878

Day 43 on sea

Dad told me not to move too much. He thinks my rips are badly bruised and I need a few days, maybe even a few weeks to heal. We don’t have a qualified doctor on this ship, so I am just putting ice on my ribs and hope they will magically heal.

My brother even came to my room to ask me about my well-being. That was the last thing I expected to be quite honest with you. My brother and I have never had the best relationship. He was never a reliable soul, always easily influenced by others. He is a follower not a leader and that shows in the way he behaves towards others, especially towards me.

“Are you fine?”, he asked me, voice unusually soft. I could see it in his eyes, the pity that lies in them. It looked like he actually cares.

“Forgetting the circumstances, yes, I am fine.” He let out a long and deep breath, a hand stroking back a piece of hair that fell into his eyes. I should have asked him if I should cut his hair for him.

“Okay.”, he just answered, nodding his head before standing up again. “If you need anything, just call for me.” Without looking at me again, he left the room. All I could do after that was smile. It was the first encounter since we were kids that didn’t end up with me wishing I would never have to talk to him again. He may not know how to express what he is really feeling and is scared of voicing his own thoughts, but this small conversation showed me that he may not be all too bad.

August 25th, 1878

Day 48 on sea

I am going crazy. I sit on my bed every single day. I draw, I write, and I stare at the wall.

I can feel my thoughts circle around my brain, nothing makes sense. No one visited me in the past two days, and it makes the urge to get up even worse. I didn’t really have someone to talk to from the beginning, but at least I got to be around some living beings. I didn’t have to bear my own thoughts for such a long time. Now I’m not only alone, but I’m also lonely as well.

I had a nightmare last night. I dreamt about the ship sinking. It was absurd because the men drunk too much and their bellies got so bloated, it made the ship sink. But that wasn’t the frightening part. As I tried to swim for safety, my arms already hurting, I started hearing voices. Not just two, must have been a hundred of them. All of them whispering to me, but I couldn’t understand what they were trying to tell me. I kept swimming and swimming, far behind I saw hills. The voices didn’t stop. It felt like they were entering me, taking over every part of my body. My head felt like it was about to explode into a million pieces. They got louder and louder until I couldn’t take it anymore. I stopped swimming, letting myself sink. The water engulfed my whole body, entering my mouth and filling my lungs. The voices got quieter and quieter until there was only one left, loud and clear, telling me to “wake up”.

That’s when I opened my eyes, sweat dripping from my forehead and my breath uncontrollably fast. I never had a dream like that. I never woke up so disorientated. I wanted to tell someone about this dream, have someone explain to me what the meaning behind it is. I wanted to know if I’m really losing my mind.

August 27th, 1878

Day 50 on sea

I am losing my mind.

This can’t be real. I am writing this down to make sure I am wide awake and not dreaming.

I woke up from a noise. At first, I thought I was imagining it, because lately I’ve been imagining a lot of things. I wanted to go back to sleep, being exhausted from, well, doing absolutely nothing all day long, but then I heard it again.

It wasn’t just a noise. It was a melody, a very beautiful one. It sounded like the gateway to heaven, like it was sung by angels. And it made me feel drowsy.

I knew I needed to rest more, but something about this melody pulled me in. It made me forget the throbbing pain in my body and the events that happened days before. All it made me want to do was reach it, engrave it into my skin. It made me want to never hear anything else.

I was in a trance, no thoughts inside my head anymore.

So, I got up, walked out onto the deck of the ship to find out where this melody comes from. But when I reached the deck, I didn’t expect to see a boy sitting on the railing.

But it wasn’t an ordinary boy. Oh, no. Not like the ones I’ve seen in my town growing up. I can’t describe him in any other way than captivating. His jet-black hair softly swayed in the night wind, covering his eyes every few seconds. His cheeks adopted a soft rosy color from the coldness, contrasting the tan of his skin. And his eyes were almost as dark as the night sky.

I don’t know why I stared at him for such a long time, and I don’t know why he let me.

“You’re here.” Those were his first words. The first time I heard his voice. A voice that made time stop for a moment. I couldn’t hear the waves crashing against each other anymore, or the cracking of the old wood the ship was built with. I couldn’t even hear my heartbeat pumping against my chest. All I could hear was him. “I was waiting for you.”

“Who are you?” That was not what I wanted to ask him at that moment, but the sane part of my brain must have sensed that something wasn’t right. Something about the way my body reacted to this strange man was dubious.

“Haechan.”, he spoke with a soft voice, turning his body so that he fully faced me. A smirk was placed on his lips, only intensifying his tantalizing physique. “And you are?”

“Y/n.” My name came out in a mere whisper, fearing that my voice might have broken if I spoke any louder. I couldn’t stop staring at him, still having been sure that my mind was playing a trick on me or, well, still is.

For days no one has checked in on me, no one has talked to me more than five words. I’ve been on this ship for way too long seeing nothing but the endless nothingness of the sea. My mind has been plagued with recuring thoughts, never once having a quiet moment. Maybe this is the final sign. Maybe this is it. I am insane. So insane that I’m imagining a boy sitting on the rail of the ship just so that I have someone to talk to.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” Reaching one hand out, the boy signaled me to come closer to him. Every part of my body longed to take his hand and sit on the rail with him, but doubts started floating my brain.

“What are you doing here? How did you get on this ship?” Haechan, as I learned his name, just chuckled, a low sound that was so different from his honey voice. He looked amused at my asking, almost like he was making fun of me.

“Why did you come out here, Y/n?” I remember frowning at him, clearly feeling upset that he chose to ignore my question and ask one of his own. I felt upset that this boy, which I probably made up in my mind, didn’t show any respect for me at all. He, just like the others, ignores what I have to say, and I didn’t want to get treated that way, not after what happened last time.

So, instead of answering him, I turned around, heading back to my bed. But before I could even take a step, the melody I heard earlier started again. All the thoughts that I had in my mind at that moment flew away and I was, yet again, caught in a trance. It was like I couldn’t escape, even if I wanted to.

“It’s you.”, I whispered, but he still heard me. I knew that because the melody got louder, clearer. I closed my eyes, letting his voice enter every part of my body. I let it fill me up and shut me down at the same time. I let it rearrange my mind and mend my wounds, but I also let it cut me open and bleed me dry. I gave myself into the sweet penetration of his honey laced voice and wanted nothing more than to make all his wishes and desires come true. I would have given him the world if it was possible. My whole body felt like it was floating on top of a cloud, high up in the sky and there was no way of ever coming down again. I was trapped.

“Come closer.”, he murmured, voice deeper and almost impending.

“No.”, I quivered, suddenly scared of ever opening my eyes again.

“Please, Y/n.”, he pleaded, and I could nearly hear the desperation in his voice. “Just please look at me.” And so, I did. He was not sitting on the rail anymore, he was standing right in front of me. A small smile on his lips and one hand stretched out to me. “Come closer please. I don’t want anything else from you.”

And as I was about to take the step towards him, give in to his demand and the growing need inside of me to grant all his wishes, I heard a voice behind me, calling out my name and breaking the trance I was in.

“Y/n?”

Turning around, I saw my brother standing further away from me, dressed in his nightly gown. “What are you doing out of your bed? You should rest, your body isn’t fully healed yet.”

“I was just talking to…” But when I looked for Haechan again, no one was standing there anymore. It was like I was alone all along. “I don’t know what I was doing.”

Suddenly I felt all the pain rush back into my body, my bones burning with fire, and I let out a loud groan as I fell to my knees.

“Y/n.” My brother rushed towards me, helping me up with his arms around me. “For someone who always seems so smart, you really aren’t the brightest.” I couldn’t even laugh at his words, my mind was too focused on the pain all over my body.

“You must have been sleep walking if you can’t remember what you were doing up there.” My brother said as he laid me back down into my bed and reached into a bucket of water to put a wet rag on my forehead. “Sleep now, okay? I will stop by in the morning again and check on you.” All I could do was nod my head at him, exhaustion consuming my body. He looked at me one last time before he left my room again.

And now I’m sitting here, writing in my foolish dairy and reminiscing about the strange boy I met. I must have imagined him. How could anyone come up onto the ship? I didn’t see another boat, nor did any other member of the crew. And the possibility of someone appearing out of the blue is also not likely.

The only possibility that is left is that I am losing my mind. That I imagined all of it out of pure loneliness and frustration. This expedition should have been educational for me. It should have proven to all the men that I, as a woman, can do what they can do. That I can be an explorer, a brave one even, and that I have the ability to find something new. That is why we started this journey, because we wanted to discover unknown things.

But all I am doing now is proving everyone exactly what they think of me, that I am small and weak. That I am not an explorer and that I should have just stayed at home. That I am not brave and definitely not smart. I proved to them that I am fragile and well, mental.

But no one has to know about it. No one has to know what happens in my head or the things I imagine. No one has to know I am practically insane and desperate. I could just simply fake it. Isn’t that what everyone does? Faking confidence.

Maybe if I fake it long enough and convince everyone that what they are saying and thinking about me is wrong, I might convince myself as well. Maybe I can convince my brain I’m fine while pretending to be.

So, from now on, everything’s okay. I am not insane, and I certainly am not imagining weird things.

I am okay.

Everything is okay.

August 29th, 1987

Day 52 on sea

Everything is not okay.

Yesterday the boy didn’t show up again. I wasn’t exactly looking for him, since my father spent most of the night in my room making sure I wouldn’t ‘sleep-walk’ again, but I can’t lie and say I wasn’t disappointed not to hear his beautiful melody again.

I asked my dad if there is a word for the feeling of craving for someone, for feeling like the person took a part of you with them when they left and you long to be reunited with them. When all your thoughts are consumed with them, and your body is itching to be in the mere presence of that person. But also fearing the actual return of that person and the power they hold over you and your emotions. He told me it is called “withdrawal”.

“It is mostly referred to drugs such as alcohol.”, he explained to me as he tried to brush out the knots in my hair. “But I think it can be applied to humans as well. You know, sometimes we long for people we can’t have or people that aren’t good for us. We see the signs, but we ignore them. We give in to the sweet yearning and get hurt in the process. But if we don’t give in and the yearning grows stronger, we crave it even more. We think about the person every day, imagine their scent, their eyes, their voice. We imagine them being in a room with us, talking and laughing with us. We do the things that are most painful to us just to have what we long for, even if we know it’s not good for us. And it hurts, physically and emotionally.”

I turned around to look at him, inspect his face and read what he was feeling when he said those things. “It sounds like you have experience with that feeling.” My father just shrugged and at that moment he looked older. He looked like an old man who has been through too much in his life. A man who deserves a break.

“I’ve been around much longer than you, dear. There were mistakes made and hearts torn, but it all worked out at the end.”

“How?”, I ask, curious as to how such a sad feeling still turned into something good.

“Because I got you, and your brother. That’s my happy ending.” I wanted to cry. I wanted to storm into his arms and never let him go. But I didn’t do any of those things. I just smiled at him, nodded my head and hoped that was enough for him. Because while his words filled my heart to the brim with love, my body still ached, not from the pain but for the boy I only met once in my life.

That’s why I tried to ignore the melody a few hours ago when it started again. Father went back to his bed a few minutes before, wanting to get some well-deserved sleep, leaving me alone in my room. I, as well, wanted to get some rest, but then I heard it. It was loud and clear, and more beautiful than I had remembered it to be. Almost immediately I felt my whole mind switch, forgetting the conversation I had had with my father. All that was in my head was him, Haechan.

I wanted to see him, no, I needed to see him. I felt lost without him, so empty and incomplete. I felt like my world wasn’t spinning correctly, time was going backwards, and the stars were falling out of the sky. Nothing felt right anymore. Not until I was with him.

I reached my door, but before I could open it something woke me up. Not from a dream, but from a trance. A smell, a very familiar one. It took up all my senses and brought me back to reality.

I realized what I was about to do and quickly sat back down on my bed, not daring to even set a foot on the floor anymore. It was frightening, what I felt just then. The longing I felt, just from one simple melody. I don’t know this boy, why would I feel so strongly about him? Why does he have so much power over my emotions?

His melody got louder. For a moment my head felt like it was exploding. He sounded sad, sorrowful. It broke my heart into pieces hearing him so vulnerable, longing for me the same way I was longing for him. But I didn’t give in. A part of me, I don’t know which one, knew it was wrong to see him again. So, I stayed on my bed, legs tightly pressed against my chest and my hands on my ears, trying to cover his despairing voice.

10 minutes ago, it stopped. It just went away, like it was never there in the first place. Curiosity almost got the best of me and wanted to check if he really left, but I was too scared, I still am.

I don’t know what he is doing to be, why he is here and why he is targeting me. But I know that whatever he is doing, it can’t be with good intentions. A person that makes another person feel such outrageous things, can’t be here for anything good.

Maybe it shouldn’t matter so much. Because, after all, I made him up. He isn’t real so whatever he is doing isn’t going to hurt me. I think my mind is reflecting this pain on me to make sense of why it’s slowly decapitating. It’s trying to distract me from the actual damage in my brain.

At least that is the only logical answer to all of this. Because anything other would be, well, crazy and I’m not crazy. I might lose my mind, but I am not crazy.

August 30th, 1878

Day 53 on sea

Maybe I am a bit crazy, and reckless, and irresponsible and plain stupid.

“You left me standing here for a long time yesterday. I missed you, darling.” But I couldn’t help myself but visibly relaxing as I heard his voice again.

It was all I could think about all day long. Him and his melody. I wanted to feel it again. Feel it in my veins, feel it shutting out all the thoughts in my head. I just wanted this bothering craving to go away. I think it got so bad that even Jisung, someone who barely talks to me, noticed it.

“Are you okay? Don’t you like the food?”, he asked as he watched me stare at the food in front of me.

“Oh, sorry. It’s not the food, don’t worry. I just didn’t get much sleep last night.” I gave him a little smile, grabbing a fork and shoving some food in my mouth.

“Is there a reason behind it? I hope it wasn’t me.” Jisung looked a bit guilty as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I spent the whole night cooking because I also couldn’t sleep. I hope I wasn’t too loud and kept you awake.”

“Oh, so that was what I smelled yesterday.” Internally, I couldn’t help but to be grateful for the boy sitting in front of me. After all, was he the reason why I didn’t give in to see Haechan. But I couldn’t tell him that. I was already glad someone decided to speak to me, I didn’t want to ruin it by my insanity. “But no, that was not what kept me up. I mean I smelled it, but I just had too much going on inside my mind to rest.”

The boy just nodded his head, shoving a fork full of food in his mouth. “Care to share some of your thoughts?”, he says with his mouth still full of food. He looked like a child in that moment, with his eyes wide and his mouth dirty with crumps.

“Just thinking a lot more about my mother lately.”, I told him, only half lying. Mother has been on my mind a lot lately, but that obviously wasn’t the reason why I couldn’t sleep. “I miss her. I mean I always miss her, but being so far away from home just makes me miss her more. You know, I see her everywhere. In the books I read, the words I write. I see her in the ocean, feel her in the air and smell her in every scent. It’s bizarre.”

“No, it’s not.”, Jisung disagreed, putting his fork down and propping his elbow up on the table to lean his face on his hand. “I miss my mother too. I mean, she isn’t dead, but her and my father are no longer together. She left with my sister, my father kept me, and I haven’t seen her in three years. I miss her too sometimes. But I think I miss the things she did for me more than I miss her. When I was a child, I always had trouble falling asleep so she would always tell me a bedtime story. I think that is why some nights I can’t seem to fall asleep.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Jisung. Next time you have trouble sleeping just get me. I can also tell you bedtime stories.”

He nodded yet again, showing me another one of his smiles. “Thank you, Y/n. And you know what? I think you are really brave. I wanted to say that to you earlier, but I never had the guts to actually do. I think that we can all be grateful that someone like you joined this expedition. We really need more smart crewmates on this ship.”

But I don’t think I am that smart anymore. I don’t think I even deserve to be called smart anymore. Because every single thing about the decisions I make is anything other than smart. And as I looked into the deep brown eyes of the boy in front of me, that only got confirmed.

“No answer? No ‘I missed you too’?” His voice had an alluring tone, soothing all the wounds inside me and doing things to my body I am too embarrassed to admit. “What a shame, sweet girl. I was pretty sure I could sense your longing for me yesterday. Maybe I was wrong.”

I didn’t know what to answer. And I honestly am glad I didn’t, positive that my voice would have come out in nothing but a pathetic whisper. Haechan was walking closer to me again, reaching his hand out again to hover over the skin of my arm but never touching me.

“Can you feel that?”, he whispers, eyes never leaving mine. “Can you feel the goosebumps slowly forming on your skin, the shiver down your spin?” He waited for me to answer him, but all I could do was nod. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Yes.” I answered him, voice cracking with that one simple word. “Yes, I can feel that.”

“Good. That is exactly what I want you to feel.” He took a few steps back again, so he was leaning against the railing. “Why did you decide to come here tonight? Couldn’t get enough of me?”

I just shrugged my shoulders, not really knowing myself what the actual reason behind me coming to see him again was. “Why do you keep calling for me?”

“Calling for you? How exactly am I calling for you?” Cocking his head to the side, still wearing a smirk on his lips. But I don’t want to get too detailed about his face, still feeling a bit embarrassed of the things I felt in that moment.

“The melody your singing, it’s for me. You are calling me with your melody.” A chuckle left his lips, melodic like his voice.

“How can you be so sure of that? What if I just like to sing pretty melodies?” His question sounded so innocent and for a moment I was uncertain about my statement, fearing I might have misinterpreted everything. But I knew what I was feeling. I knew that his melody was meant to be for me and no one else. I know it might sound crazy, but the thought of him singing this melody, my melody, for someone else felt unsettling.

“Because if you sung it for someone else, they would stand here instead of me. No one else is responding to your melody, only me, so it must be for me.” For a few seconds there was nothing but silence around us. Haechan wasn’t saying a thing, seeming like he was thinking about his next words. And I didn’t say anything, fearing that if I might, he would disappear again.

“You’re right.”, he finally spoke up. “It is for you.”

“But why? Why do you sing this melody for me?”

“Because I wanted to meet you, Y/n. From the moment I first saw you, I knew I got to have you. I got to be with you. I craved nothing more than to talk to you, to simply be blessed to be in the mere presence of you. I am longing for you, the same way you are longing for me, my love.” I couldn’t believe what he was saying to me. His words filled up my heart, and I started feeling lightheaded.

He was craving for me. He wanted to meet me. Everything that I am feeling towards him, as strange as those emotions are, he is feeling for me as well. His words were the most beautiful, heart wrenching thing I have ever heard in my inter life. I felt lucky to be seen this way, to be wanted this way, never actually having had someone tell me that before.

He really went all this way, just to meet me. Singing this melody, coming up this ship. But isn’t it a bit strange as well? I remembered not seeing another ship anywhere nearby. Where did he come from? How did he see me? Questions started filling my mind again, shaking me awake.

“What did you mean when you said you wanted to meet me from the first time you saw me? When did you see me?” I could see his body tensing up. Maybe he wasn’t expecting such a question.

“I can answer your question, but first you have to come with me. Please, Y/n. I will tell you everything, just please come with me. I don’t want to be apart from you anymore.”

“Haechan.” I looked at his hand, which was reaching for me again, motioning me to take it in mind. “Where do you want to take me? I mean there is no other ship anywhere near.”

“Y/n, just trust me, okay? Come with me and I will make the thoughts in your head disappear. I will make everything heal for you.” His hands hovered over my arms again, almost as if he couldn’t touch me. I wanted him to. I wanted him to touch me so badly. But I could see that something in his eyes had changed. They were darker, more desperate and demanding, and I knew it was my time to leave.

“I can’t.”, I told him, taking a few steps back. “I have to get up early tomorrow.” And with that I left, not once looking back as I walked back into my room.

I don’t know if what I did was right, or if I upset him with my behavior.

All I hope for is that he isn’t mad at me and will forgive me when he comes back. If he comes back.

August 31st, 1878

Day 54 on sea

He did in fact come back.

“Missed me?” There was something more gentle in the way he was talking to me today. Something more reserved.

“What if I did?” That made him smile, not smirk like he normally does. Haechan showed me a bright honest smile. And all I could think about was that he never looked more ethereal than in that moment.

“Then I will be highly pleased, my love. You know why?” I shook my head as a no, waiting for him to continue his sentence. “Because I missed you too?”

“You did?”

“Of course, I did. You were all I could think about all day long, pretty girl.” He stayed a bit further away from me too today and I wondered why. I asked myself if he didn’t want to be close to me again or if he felt rejected after what happened yesterday. “I couldn’t stop thinking about your sweet smile, your beautiful eyes and your lovely voice. I couldn’t wait to see you again.”

“Why don’t you touch me?”, I said out of the blue, catching not only myself, but him off guard as well. “You never touch me. You only hover your hands above my skin. Why?”

He smiled again, sweet and kind. “Because if I touch you once, I will never be able to stop again.”

“What if I don’t want you to stop?” He only shook his head, turning around to face the stars instead of me. But I didn’t want him to look away, I wanted him to look at me, because when he does look at me, I can feel again.

“I am sorry about yesterday, you know? I am sorry I was too intrusive, I let myself get caught up in my emotions.” I had to process his words, that being the last thing I thought would come out of his mouth. Never once had a men apologized to me for anything. I am so used to getting treated like nothing and it being normal in a society like the one I grew up with. Never once has anyone cared so much about me to consider my emotions and apologize for a mistake.

“Thank you.”, I just whispered, trying to swallow the tears. “That means a lot to me.” I decided to join him at the rail, watch the stars with him for a little while.

“Do you know that I think you are not real? I think I am imagining you, because for the past weeks I have been slowly losing my mind. Seeing the same things every day, not talking to anyone and having to deal with all those thoughts in my head. I think I started imagining you so I could just stop time for a while.”

“But I am real.”, he said, looking deep into my eyes. “I am real. You are not insane, and you are definitely not imagining me. I can prove that to you. Just take my hand and you will see.”

“Why does that feel like a trap?”, I asked him, watching his face, trying to read his emotions. But it stayed the same. His smile didn’t butch for a second and his eyes still held the same gentleness.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Y/n. There is no trap. I am just offering you evidence to your lingering questions about your own sanity. I am just trying to be nice to you, but if you don’t appreciate that.”

“No, no I do. I am grateful for your kindness. You just sounded so demanding, and it made me doubtful.”

“I am so sorry, my sweet girl. It was never my intention to make you doubt me. That will never happen again, okay? All I want is the best for you. Nothing more.” I just nodded, eyes facing the wooden floor of the ship. “I am going to tell you the story of why I so desperately wanted to talk to you, since I didn’t yesterday. Maybe that will cheer you up a bit again.”

“I wanted to talk to you because I was mesmerized by you. Because there are not a lot of people out there like you. People so willing to learn and to explore. I never met a woman like you, someone so strong minded and independent. I loved how you never let anyone talk bad to you and I love how despite the negative things the men on this ship say about you, you still stay here. You prove to them every day that you are capable of being on such an expedition and that you are more qualified than they could ever be. And I just knew I had to talk to you, I had to have you in my life.”

And it was like he knew what I needed to hear. Like he knew my deepest darkest thoughts and all the things I was craving to ever be told by someone. It was like he spoke right into my soul and built up this newfound strength. I felt empowered, I felt loved. But yet again, I was also wondering how he could know all those things about me.

“Why do you know all that, Haechan?”

“I told you already, Y/n. I was longing for you.” It didn’t make sense. His answer didn’t make any sense. Was he avoiding my question? Or maybe he understood the question wrong, thinking this was an answer that would satisfy me. But it didn’t.

“That doesn’t answer my question. How can you possibly know about all those? We just met.”

I could hear a sigh leaving his lips, the long and frustrated kind. I am familiar with those, having heard them a thousand times from my father and brother. And I asked myself if I, yet again, upset him with my question. If I should have just kept quiet and appreciated his kind words and moved on from the topic.

“And yet again you don’t appreciate my kindness. All I do is be nice to you, proving to you that I am real and trustworthy, and you still doubt me. Don’t you know how much that hurts me? Do you?” His voice rose visibly, nostrils flaring and eyes growing wider. Haechan wasn’t looking like himself at that moment. He almost looked inhumane.

“I am sorry, Haechan. Please don’t say that. I do trust you. Please, I’m sorry.”, I started begging him, reaching for his hand, which he pulled away. “Please.” Tears filled my eyes and my whole body started hurting again, like it was slowly breaking apart from the inside out.

“You hurt me, Y/n. I don’t think your apology can fix this.”

And this time it was him walking away, disappearing into the darkness, and leaving me standing at the same spot, mourning for him like I had just lost a person to death.

September 1st, 1878

Day 55 on sea

I could see the surprise on his face when he saw me standing there, waiting for him this time, not needing his melody to be called. But the look of surprise quickly faded away and a smirk replaced it instead.

“I see you don’t even need my melody anymore.” It almost sounded cocky the way he said it.

“I wanted to be here first so I could apologize to you.”, I spoke the words with so much sincerity, wanting him to believe me and see that I genuinely mean the apology. “I am really sorry for hurting your feelings yesterday. It was never my intention. All I want to do is make you happy, Haechan, and I am so sorry that I failed to do so.”

He looked at me for a few seconds, brows raised, before he shrugged his shoulders. “What will you do if I don’t accept your apology?”

I didn’t hesitate when I spoke my next words. “I will beg for your forgiveness. I will beg until you accept my apology. I will do anything you want me to.”

“Anything I want you to?”, he asked, and I just nodded my head at him, desperation fulling my actions and probably written all over my face. “I will hold onto that one.”

“Does that mean you forgive me?” Haechan shrugged again, taking a few steps forward into my direction. Looking at him in that moment, I didn’t think he looked hurt. Normally people have this look on their face when their feelings got hurt, quivering lips, wide and sad eyes, body folding in on itself. But Haechans eyes were almost narrowed, and he was towering over me, almost like he was looking down at me. My father once told me people do that to prove their dominance over the other person, but I don’t think that was what Haechan wanted to do in that moment. Or was it?

Maybe Haechan is just like my brother, a person who has to hide their true feelings behind a stone-cold face to demonstrate strength. Or maybe he just didn’t want me to see him hurt by me to make me feel less guilty. Because I was and still am feeling bad for making him feel that way yesterday. I still regret my words and wish I would have just shut my mouth. I should do that more often, shutting my mouth in some situations. It would have saved me from a lot of things.

“I’m still thinking about it. Maybe I will tell you my answer at the end of the night.” That gave me some hope. Even though he didn’t yet accept my apology, he still wanted to spend time with me and that was more than enough for me.

“I saw you talking to that Jisung guy again today.” Haechan was still towering over me, hands in the pockets of his pants and eyes narrowing in on my face. “What is so intriguing about him that you talk so much to him?”

“Did you watch me?”, I asked him, shock lacing my voice. Jisung and I only talked in the kitchen today. I was hungry since I overslept in the morning and didn’t have breakfast. When I walked into the kitchen to grab myself something, Jisung was standing there, preparing the fish for dinner. We spent some time together, me eating my food and him cooking more. There wasn’t a lot of conversation, we just basked in the presence of each other.

“I asked you a question first.”, Haechan voice got lower again. I could only describe it as sinister. There was an undertone in that one small sentence, something that told me I should not say the wrong thing. So, I took a moment to gather my thoughts, fight through the mess in my head and find an answer that will satisfy him.

“He isn’t interesting to me.”, I tell him, keeping my voice clear and loud. “He is just the only person that talks to me when you aren’t here. There is nothing more to it.”

“It didn’t look like that earlier, sweetheart. I thought the two of you looked very cozy in that kitchen, sneaking glances at each other.” He let out a sound similar to a ‘tsk’ and shook his head in a mocking manner. “Am I not enough for you anymore? Do you go around and search for other men when I’m not around? Are you so desperate and needy for attention?”

“No.”, I whispered, feeling even the small last bit of confidence leaving my body. Haechan has a way of making me feel weaker and weaker, draining every last thought out of my head and making my body his. “No, Haechan.”

I felt my legs give him, sinking to my knees. My body felt so heavy but at the same time so light. Haechan kneeled down in front of me, lowering his head so he was looking right into my eyes. “You can’t talk to other men, Y/n. You are mine only, do you understand?” All I could do was nod my head at him, but that didn’t satisfy him. “You belong to me, right, my sweet girl? I need you to say it.”

“I belong to you.”, I mumbled, not having the strength to fully open my mouth.

“That is right. You belong to me, your body belongs to me and even your mind belongs to me. You are all mine, pretty princess.” He took up all my senses. I could only see him, smell him, hear him, feel him everywhere. Like only he excited in this world and no one else.

Haechan leaned forward, his lips brushing the skin of my ear. I could feel his warm breath on my skin, and it sent shivers down my back. “Now come with me, darling. Take my hand and come with me. I will make sure you remember me forever.”

I reached for his hand, fingers brushing against each other, but before I could close them around his, a bright light shined a bit further away from us. Everything happened so fast after that. I heard footsteps, a voice and suddenly I felt empty. Haechan was no longer kneeling in front of me and right as I wanted to look for him, my body gave in, and I fainted onto the cold wooden floor.

I don’t know how I got into my bed, and I don’t know who brought me into my bed. All I know is that the moment I woke up again I craved Haechan even more than I did before and I know that the next time he asks me to come with him, I will do so, without any hesitation.

September 2nd, 1878

Day 56 on sea

Everything changed today. Everything I thought I knew, everything I thought I felt. A lie.

I can’t stop crying. My tears are flowing like an endless waterfall. I’m a mess, a disaster. How could I let this all happen? I thought I was smarter than this. I thought I was stronger than this. But I was blinded. I was corrupted, manipulated, used.

I feel dirty, like I haven’t washed in weeks. But I just did. I spent a long time trying to scrub away the dirt I felt, trying to scrub away the shame I felt. I put everyone, especially me, in danger with my reckless behavior, with my blindness, with my incompetence. I am a failure.

I spent the whole day ignoring everyone around me, not even looking at anyone that passed me by. I wanted to desperately prove to Haechan that I only want him and no one else, that everyone on this ship doesn’t matter to me. All that matters is him. I was hoping he was watching me again, being proud of me.

But unfortunately, there was one person I couldn’t avoid even if I tried to.

“You wanted to speak to me, father.”, I said as I entered my father’s office room. I have never been in that room, not once over all these weeks. The room was scattered in books, empty bottles and maps of the sea. I always imagined the room to be neater, at least that was what my father always seemed to be. But my mother told me once that your room reflects the mental state you were in. Maybe my father was also struggling with his sanity.

“Yes.”, he answered me, looking up from his book. “I wanted to see how you are feeling, after your little incident yesterday.”

“I’m feeling fine, father. Must have been me sleep walking again. There is nothing to worry about.”

He just hummed, his face showing the uncertainty he felt because of my words. My father mustered me for a few seconds, waiting for even a little muscle to twitch in my face to show him if I was lying. But I kept a straight face, looking him right into the eyes. “I am thrilled to hear that. And we will find a way to fix your nightly problem.”

Father went back to reading in his book, and even though I knew I shouldn’t, the curious part of me wondered what he was so engrossed in. I always loved the books my father reads, knowing that they are filled with new knowledge. “What are you reading?”

He held up the book, showing me the cover. “Knowledge about the mysteries of the ocean.”, I read out loud, furrowing my eyebrows at the title. What an odd book, I have never heard about that. “What mysteries are listed in the book?”

“Oh, just some fisher men tales. Mermaids, kraken, leviathan, sirens. All those tales which warn everyone on ships about the dangers of the sea.”

“Sirens? I have never heard of them. What are they?” My father turned his book around, showing me the page, he was just reading. On it was a drawn picture of what looked to be a half bird, half fish creature. My stomach started to turn, the longer I looked at it, frightened by its appearance.

“This book says that sirens are mythical creatures, half bird, half fish. Through their angelic singing they lure in fishermen to kill them. It is said that their voice lures them in, but their face is what makes the fishermen stay.”

“Their face?”, I asked, not believing that for a second.

“They put you in a trance with their voice and make you see whoever you most desire. They are insidious, malicious creatures, feared by everyone who ever entered the ocean. They are dangerous, Y/n.” He looked me in the eyes, as if he knew something I didn’t. As if he wanted to tell me more with the last sentence.

“Do you really believe they exist? To me that just sounds like fishermen making up excuses as to why they didn’t bring any fish home.”

My father let out a long sigh, head shaking. He turned the book back to him and stared at the picture for a few more seconds, before closing the book again. “You could be right, Y/n. I mean you have always been the realistic one in this family. But as long as there is no proof that they don’t exist, I will have to believe those tales. It’s better to believe and find out they don’t exist, than to not believe and find out they do exist.”

I couldn’t stop thinking about his words after I left his office. They kept spinning around my head, swirling and clashing against other thoughts. And they were connecting. My thoughts were connecting together, and suddenly there was only one thought left. One person in my mind, and not for the reasons he had been in my mind for the past few days.

But I didn’t want to admit that. Not even to myself. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t true. Those useless tales were nothing but fiction, made up stories to save the fishermen from embarrassment and disappointment. Nothing more and nothing less.

Because I knew Haechan. I knew he wasn’t capable of something like that. He wasn’t a creature designed to prey on innocent people. Or was he?

I couldn’t help but smile as I heard the familiar melody, as I felt it sink deep under my skin and erase everything inside of me. I loved the pain it inflicted on my heart, the way the melody ripped me apart into a million pieces. I loved how for the first few seconds everything stopped being important to me. Breathing, feeling, living. Nothing felt important for a few seconds. Nothing but him.

Haechan leant against the rail of the ship, hands in his trousers and a smirk on his lips. It almost felt like a déjà-vu. I remembered how I felt when I first saw him. Feelings that were once so innocent and unfamiliar are now unconditional and fierce. “My pretty girl.”, he whispered, and I felt the weight on my shoulders lift. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”, I asked, taking a few steps closer to him. I was craving his closeness, his touch. I needed him to touch me, anywhere. I didn’t mind where.

“Ready to come with me.” My head was clouded, brainwashed by his beautiful voice. But wasn’t that exactly what my father told me, what he warned me about. “I can see your doubt in me, sweetheart. What is it that is plaguing your beautiful mind?”

“Do you plan on killing me?” I don’t know why I asked him that question. I don’t know how I got the strength to break out of the haze, even just a little bit.

“Killing you? Why would I kill you?” His eyes darkened and I could see his body language changing. I could see all of him changing. Haechan let out a chuckle before walking into my direction, stopping when he was right behind me. Brushing my hair back, never once touching me, as he leant down to whisper into my ear.

“I really wanted to kill you at first, my sweet girl. I wanted nothing else but to rip you apart.” My body shut down, letting me fall weakly to my knees just like the day before. I couldn’t keep my eyes open for more than five seconds. Haechan kneeled down in front of me, yet again and placed his hand on my cheek. Finally, I could feel him. I could feel the one thing I craved most, his touch. But it didn’t feel how I imagined it to. Instead of lifting me up and making me basked in comfort, it made me flinch. His touch made me want to never see the light of day ever again. “But how could I kill such a beautiful thing? You are my precious girl, aren’t you? So sweet and special.”

I wanted to run, get away from him. I wanted to do anything but to stay with him, but my body didn’t let me. My body stayed down on the ground, heavy and useless. “Does it hurt, love? Does my touch and my words hurt you?” He didn’t need an answer because he knew. He knew how every bone in my body felt like it was on fire as soon as he muttered those words. He knew all I wanted was to make this growing pain stop. “Just come with me. I will make the pain stop.”

When I looked up at him, I saw only a glimpse of him. His skin was pale blue, scales all over it, and his teeth were sharp and long. This wasn’t the boy I met a few nights ago, the boy who made me feel like I was floating on the clouds and the boy who gave me a reason to live. This was a creature, a monster. A siren.

“Go away.”, I croaked out with the last strength I had left in my body.

“Oh no, you poor thing. Don’t be like that.” Not even his voice sounded like the sweet melody I once heard. It didn’t give me sweet pleasure anymore, it only gave me pain. “You love me, or have you forgotten? Have you forgotten all the feelings I inflicted on you? Have you forgotten how good you felt when you were with me? I can make that come back. You just have to come with me.”

“Go to hell.” I didn’t know that this simple sentence could mean the end of my life because the next thing I felt was a sharpness going through my body. And I knew this would be it. This would be the last few seconds before I was gone.

“Y/n!”, I heard someone shout, loud and piercing. I opened my eyes, only to have my vision be blurry. I tried to move, look who that voice belonged to and if I was imagining it again. “Go away and never come back, or I will have you killed and each and everyone of you creatures on this planet.”

I took a hurtful breath and it felt as if my lungs were filled with broken pieces of glass. My eyes tried to stay open, but I didn’t have the strength. “No, Y/n. Stay awake. Please don’t leave me.”

Whiteness surrounded me, filling me up and taking me in. Silence. I heard nothing more than silence. I tried looking around, kicking and fighting as I was trapped in nothing but endless vastness. Far away from me I could see something, or someone waiting for me. I tried to walk towards it, reaching my arms out to grab it, but I never came close.

“It’s not your time yet, Y/n.” And before I could question those words, my eyes opened.

It took me a few seconds to regain my vision, seeing the familiar walls of my room. As I remembered just what had happened, I felt panic filling my body, my breaths coming out faster than normal and my mind spiraling in wild circles.

“It’s okay, Y/n.”, I heard the voice of my father first before I felt his arms around my body, pulling me tightly into him. “Your safe. Nothing can hurt you anymore.”

I looked up at him with wide eyes and my mouth agape. I felt like a little kid again, crying in the arms of my father after having a bad dream. Just that this wasn’t a dream. This is reality.  

“It’s okay. We are on our way back home. That creature will never find you again, we made sure of that, okay?” My father held me with so much delicacy, fearing he might break me. “You’re safe. I won’t let anyone, or anything hurt you again.”

And I believed him. There in the arms of my father I believed his words. So, I closed my eyes, let the sleep consume me and hoped that this promise would be one he could keep.

September 10th, 1878

Day 64 on sea

I let the salt air take away all the scars of the past weeks as I watched the soft waves flow under the setting sun. This was the first time in eight days that I had the courage to leave my room. I couldn’t face the place where everything happened. The place where I almost lost myself.

I closed my eyes and imagined the soft grass under my toes, the chirping birds in my ear and the blinding sunlight in my eyes. I imagined biting into a sweet apple, feeling the fresh morning air on my skin and smiling at the veracity of the moment.

“Daydreaming again?”, I heard a voice in front of me, making an actual smile appear on my lips. A smile I haven’t let myself show in a long time.

“What brings you out here? Shouldn’t you be in your bed, sleeping like everyone else is?” Jisung just shrugged his shoulders, his hair softly swaying in the wind.

He showed me a sweet smile, sitting down beside me and taking one of my hands in his. “I am not going to ask you how are doing, since everyone else does that every day.” I nodded at him, grateful for not hearing the repeating question out of his mouth as well. “But I am going to ask you if you still feel the withdrawal, you told me about.”

My eyes filled with tears again and I tried my best to swallow them down. “Yes.”, I mumbled, looking down, too ashamed to let him see me this way. To let him see me so weak and pathetic. “Yes, I still feel it, every day. I long for him, and I know it isn’t right. He isn’t who he showed me to be. I know I was blinded by a trance. I was blinded by need. I know what I am feeling isn’t right and that he wasn’t right. But for a few seconds, for a few seconds every day, it felt real. For a few seconds every day I could just be. I could be me. I could forget the pain and my thoughts, and I could breathe.”

Jisung just nodded his head, not letting go of my hand, but he didn’t say a word. I appreciated that. I appreciated the quietness of him. Because as opposed to the others, he didn’t lecture me on my feelings. He didn’t tell me how it is wrong to feel the way I do and how I should have seen all this coming. He didn’t try to tell me how to move past this, or how to continue living my life. Jisung just stayed silent.

“Why are you awake?”, I asked him after a few moments, breaking the silence he gifted me.

“I couldn’t sleep. And the last time I told you about my sleeping problems, you told me you could tell me a story, like my mother did. A bedtime story to make me fall asleep.” I let the tears that still lingered in my eyes roll down my cold cheeks, as I nodded my head. “Will you tell me one?”

“Yes. Yes, of course. I will tell you any story you want.”

And so, I did.

I told everyone my story.

Bonus

“What took you so long?”

Haechan swam into the cave, brushing past everyone that was looking at him with expecting eyes. He ignored them all and just kept swimming.

“Answer my question.”, Jeno spoke louder this time, but Haechan just kept swimming. He didn’t care that everyone was waiting for him, waiting for him to fulfill his promise, to fulfill all the promises he had made for the past weeks.

“We had a fight.”, he told Jeno with a shrug of his shoulders, nonchalant about the other one’s questions. Haechan could see the disappointment and anger in the faces of everyone in the cave, and he couldn’t care less. He knew what he was doing was right. He knew it was necessary to go through all these lengths to get what he wanted, what everyone wanted.

“A fight?”, his friend repeated, skeptic lingering in his voice. “This isn’t a game, Haechan. We put our trust and time in your hands. How long until this plan of yours backfires? How long until they notice that their ship hasn’t been moving in days? How long until they discover us and put an end us?”

“Jeno.”, Haechan’s eyes piercing into the older boy, voice clearly stating a warning. “Have you lost all your trust in me? I know what I am doing.”

“Are you?” Everyone was looking at the two, anticipating the outcome of this long-awaited conversation. “You were the one promising us you were going to get us this girl. You were the one convincing us how much you were craving her and how much we should as well. And we have given you time, but all you do is play around. This isn’t a game, Haechan. This will determine our lives. Without her, we will not survive, and you are very well aware of that.”

“This is where you are wrong, my dear friend.” Haechan turned his body, facing all the sirens watching him. “This is a game, and I am the leader of it. This girl we are talking about is different from everyone we have ever had. This one is special. She isn’t easily fooled by my tricks, by my voice. She has a smart mind, that one.” A wide grin appeared on the siren’s lips, making him almost look crazy, and his eyes narrowed on his friend yet again. “This one will bring us everything we have ever dreamt of. And it will work. The game I am playing, the fight we were having today, it will all work in the end.”

“How can you be so sure of that?” The question lingered in the quiet of the cave, the eyes of everyone looking at Haechan, faith and trust all in his hands.

“Because it is all going according to plan.”, he announced, voice thick with pride and confidence. “It is all going according to my plan.”

[calisources]

𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄.

All sentences are taken from different books from Phillipa Gregory, specially her series about the historical fiction setting of the war of roses and the tudors era. Change names, locations, pronouns and nouns as you see fit for your own liking. Some of these have slight foul language or involve insuation of sexual situations. Please beware. This is part one.

You can smile when your heart is breaking because you're a woman.

If it means something, take it to heart. If it means nothing, it's nothing. Let it go.

I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't do anything but think about him.

At night I dream of him, all day I wait to see him, and when I do see him my heart turns over and I think I will faint with desire.

A man will always promise to do more than he can do to a woman he cannot understand.

I would know you anywhere for my true love. 

Whoever I was and whoever you were, I would know you at once for my true love.

When a woman thinks her husband is a fool, her marriage is over. 

The world hasn't changed that much; men still rule.

If you go on flirting with the king with those sickly little smiles, one of us Boleyns is going to scratch your eyes out

What a pair we shall be! What man can resist us?

You have to choose the best, every day, without compromise...guided by your own virtue and highest ambition.

I never thought it would end like this. I never thought he would leave me without saying goodbye.

But I don't forget and I don't forgive.

A woman has to change her nature if she is to be a wife.

To be a good wife is to be a woman with a will of iron that you yourself have forged into a bridle to curb your own abilities. 

But I am above these judgments, I am a Queen.

Anyone can attract a man. The trick is to keep him.

I was born to be your rival.

Know your rights.

When they see us dance. When they see how you look at me. When they see how I smile at you.

I have learned the power of surviving.

I was a woman who was capable of passion and who had a great need and a great desire for love.

Good god what men can do to their brains when their cocks are hard.

They are a house which has to have blood, and they will shed their own if they have no other enemy.

I want to take you for pleasure, and hold you in my arms for desire.

 I want you to know that it is your kiss that I want, not another heir to the throne.

You can know that I love you, quite for yourself, when I come to your bed, and not as the York’s broodmare.

You think to bed me for love and not for children? Isn’t that sin?

I shall make sure that it feels richly sinful.

Some women attract desire. Others do not.

Every woman has to have something which singles her out, which catches the eyes, which makes her the center of attention.

If it has to be done at all, it must be done with grace.

She  was speaking out for the women of the country, for the good wives who should not be put aside just because their husbands had taken a fancy to another.

Because all books are forbidden when a country turns to terror.

You can smile when your heart is breaking because you are a woman, and a courtier.

War does not answer war, war does not finish war. The only ending is peace.

To save my son, I would plot with the devil himself.

Yes, but either way, shamed or not, I shall be Queen of England, and this is the last time you will sit in my presence.

I am not a yard of ribbon. I am not a leg of ham. I am not for sale to anyone.

We have to be more royal than royalty itself or nobody will believe us.

I betrayed as a daughter will betray her mother and yet, never stop loving her.

I am an object of beauty. He has never loved me as a woman.

When a man wants a mystery, it is generally better to leave him mystified. Nobody loves a clever woman.

I wanted the heat and the sweat and the passion of a man that I could love and trust. 

And I wanted to give myself to him: not for advantage, but for desire.

I am a fool to own it, but I am in a fever for his touch.

It is luck to love someone who is free to love you in return.

Just decide that you are not going to be a fearful woman and when you come to something that makes you apprehensive, you face it and walk towards it

This was my destiny: to put my son on the throne of England.

This is a woman whose belly is filled with pride.

 She has been eating nothing but her own ambition for nearly thirty years.

Plainly, she is quite besotted by him,... a girl, a young girl, and she is falling in love for the first time in her life.

And – I think you know, don’t you? – that I love you, Anne.

And you are the sort of mistress a man doesn't bother to marry. Sons or no sons.

You don't need to struggle, your baby is coming.

You give birth, you don't force birth or besiege it. It's not a battle, it's an act of love. You give birth to your child and you can do it gently.

But young hearts mend easily.

Either you have me or not at all. Either you love me or not at all. Either I am all yours or I am nobody’s. I will have no half-measures with you.

Men die in battle; women die in childbirth.

 shall put a curse on their house that they will have no first born son to inherit. 

Have you ever wondered, Anne, in your untiring dance of seduction, whether you might not be dancing to Henry's tune instead of your own?

I am a Queen. It is natural that men are going to gather round me, hoping for a smile.

My honour and my pride are in my heart, and not in what the world says.

He is fragile, like a prince of ice, of glass.

But I warn you that a woman who seeks great power and wealth has to pay a great price.

Every woman is a mad ugly bad old witch somewhere in her heart.

My own mother told my lady governess that if the baby and I were in danger then they should save the baby.

She has a smile that grows slowly and then shines, like an angel’s smile.

Jane would be the next queen and her children, when she had them, would be the next princes or princesses.

I am mad for you.

You're not cursed daughter, you are the finest and rarest of all my children, the most beautiful, the most beloved.

One’s lover is one’s partner in observing and understanding the world.

Marriage is a place where joint narratives are composed. If the lover is a liar then all your joint observations are unreliable. 

If it was not in your interests to betray me then you would have been loyal.

I am marrying the finest man I have ever known.

You can have my glove, my favour.

Nobody gets to be Queen of England by being loveable. You will have to play your cards right.

Thomas More once told me: lion or king, never show fear or you are a dead man.

When I marry you, everything I have becomes yours.

[rationalisms]

You mentioned that you don't think legally blonde is progressive and I'd like to hear more of your thoughts on that if you don't mind.

i mean, in the first place (and i promise i'm not trying to sound condescending i just genuinely don't know how else to say this) i think it's important to like... let go of the binary "progressive/oppressive" model of thinking about media, and instead pivot to talking about analysing e.g. films through different theoretical lenses instead.

so instead of trying to make a definitive declarative statement on whether xyz mainstream hollywood romcom IS or ISN'T feminist, fullstop, it's much more useful and conductive to actual productive discussion to analyse it from a feminist perspective instead.

because when you're no longer limited to ones and zeroes, that'll allow you to, say, in the case of legally blonde, both talk about the way that it takes some steps forward in terms of e.g. letting its protagonist succeed at things that are traditionally seen as male, such as academic success (aside: extra ironic bc in most countries women are better students than men but when has propaganda every cared about that), or choose academic success and her career over her erstwhile romantic partner, but also many steps backward.

like the fact that marketing that brand of hyperfemininity/beauty rituals/etc to women as So Empowering Akshually is part and parcel of misogynistic industries owned by men that prey on women's self-image, time, and money to sell them products that they at best don't need and that at worst are actively bad for them. like, they have caught on by now that shaming women for failing to uphold standards of femininity doesn't work nearly as well as selling them as part of a Feminist Identity in which your 50 step skincare routine that you spend 2 hours a day on so as not to show a single sign of aging is actually just Getting In Touch With Your Body and Expressing Your Womanhood. i honestly do not have the time to get into it right now but i recommend reading "femininity and domination: studies in the phenomenology of oppression" by sandra lee bartky, "beauty work: individual and institutional rewards, the reproduction of gender, and questions of agency" by samantha kwan and mary nell trautner, and/or "choosing to conform: the discursive complexities of choice in relation to feminine beauty practices" by avelie stuart and ngaire donaghue.

and so like, the fact that her Grand Crowning Moments in this film (like her win in court or helping jennifer coolidge's character) actually almost all revolve around those beauty practices and how well she manages to uphold them and not, say, the knowledge she's gaining in the incredibly difficult university course she's taking.

OR such as the fact that there's a whole character who's just there to be the frumpy, masculine, feminist lesbian who's suuuuch a killjoy and combative to our poor protagonist for seemingly no reason and just Hates Feminine Women sooo much, and who we are meant to jeer and laugh at when the Right Kind of Woman (read: feminine and heterosexual) wins against her. or how the protagonist's happy ending still has to include a man anyway. or how you can count the people of colour that even just appear in this film on one hand.

this is at this point definitely already long enough lol but i hope you get what i mean? anyway. there's absolutely nothing wrong with enjoying this film obviously but it's good to be critical of the way these narratives are presented to us, as always.

[psychabolition]

Hi. I was the person who sent the ask about what needs to be done instead of psychiatry. I only just read your response now. In the time between sending the ask and now I’ve done a lot more research into anti-psychiatry and psych abolition. I understand how it’s an oppressive system and how it harms people. I agree with the need to dismantle it. But as soon as I read the response to my ask I broke down crying.

You talk about the importance of community. Or being able to rely on friends in times of crisis rather than therapists and psychiatrists. I have no community. No friends. I used to think I was okay with that. But I guess I was lying to myself. I am considered distasteful to be around. Scratch that, I actively make myself distasteful to be around. Because then I can at least expect people to inevitably hate me rather than have high expectations and be let down every single time. I’m desperately waiting for my therapy appointment in two days. I know I need someone better. Someone who I can actually tell that I cut myself a couple days ago without them deciding that I need everything I love taken away from me for who knows how long. But I fear I will never have someone better. I fear that even my therapist only tolerates talking to me because they’re paid to tolerate it.

You post about the importance of community if we are to break free from oppressive systems. How do we build that community? How?

Hey !! Thank you for your ask !

I totally understand you . Like I literally know exactly what thats like , trust me.

Ik that "community" is such a vague word that it almost sounds meaningless . Like wtf is that? In my opinion most people just have work colleagues or school mates or other students in their lectures and then go home to a nuclear family or to their partner - this is not "living in community" 💀💀💀. Most people dont live in community, our society (at least western societies like in europe - idk about others) is so fucking alienating . Any emotional connection is replaced w a hierarchy - teacher, prof, therapist, the nuclear family , your boss at work, even intimate relationships with a partner are like that in our patriarchal society . And then the people who you are on the same page as, youre pit against them - you need to be better than your work colleagues to get that promotion or at least so you dont get fired, you need to be able to pass that test alone in university/school otherwise you fall behind your peers or are literally excluded from visiting school/uni , a lot of friendships between women (or FLINTA* to be more accurate) fall apart because of cis men ... FUCK this society .

And then theres those of us that dont fit into this bullshit society. I dont care for a career in a job that will definitely bore me to death or overwork me till suicide and I have 0 interest in creating my own nuclear family after all the awful bullshit Ive had to endure because of the one I was born into. Like these are the 2 life options for us . Of course I was suicidal all the time as a teenager😭I couldnt imagine a future in a world where these are the only options in life !!!! Why are so many people NOT insane ? Who actually likes living this way ????? And if we cant or dont want to submit to "career via education and/or nuclear family" we're worth nothing in this society . We're ostracized ,isolated, stigmatized .

What Im dealing w right now is also connected to all that . the nuclear family that I grew up in wants to stop supporting me financially bc I dont submit to societal expectations of career and education .💀 a lot of my friends are also struggling w literally paying rent bc their parents randomly stopped giving them money for similiar reasons, its awful . This is why the nuclear family is the opposite of community to me. I'd do anything for my friends so they dont go homeless or without food or without support no matter their life choices and especially if they struggle I want to be there for them MORE not less .FUCK our parents fuck the nuclear family . They all slowly start to cut us off and make our lives hell because they dont fucking care about us and they never did .

Anyway . You dont have to built a new community obviously. So the question you need to ask yourself is - where does community still/already exist in your area ? Especially for those of us who deviate A LOT from social norms and "normal" life experiences . I can only talk about myself - Ive found solace in Subcultures that are from and for people who deviate extremely from social norms. Ive linked another ask that Ive answered where I listed all the subcultures that Ive somehow somewhen have heard people around me be a part of. Ik that it can also be very hard to get to be a part of those subcultures if youre not used to being around people (especially groups) but literally . Just keep trying, any subculture thats made up out of outcasts is very welcoming and very accepting. Also usually (at least in my experience) the subcultures are all conntected which is really cool because once you know people from one community you start to know a lot of people from other communities too ! It can still take time though . For me it only took 1 good friendship to a person whos in a subculture in my city to get to know many other people who are all actually part of a real community.

If you have a political subject that youre passionate about like anti psych or abolishing prisons or if there are other subjects that are important to you (animal liberation, youth liberation, climate crisis, queerfeminism , ... ?) I highly recommend a political group as a way to find community and to get into the subcultures in your area . You'll finally stop feeling powerless against oppressive institutions if you manage to actually change something through activism . Any and all activism also connects you a lot to the place that youre living in and the people with similiar struggles around you. Go to Antifa or communists - they have open meetings for newcomers all the time . Or try to join any other subculture - read the ask that I linked !! If youre queer for example thats awesome - go to a queer event Now . Being queer has always had so much culture, so much community .

Also trust me youre not awful to be around . You'll realize that youre actually cool to be around when you spend time w your friends and they appreciate you . and youll also stop having thoughts and fears about not being able to trust them or about them judging you or about how it must be awful to spend time with you (or whatever else you might think) when you have fun spending time together and you regularly see each other and you value each others time. You just havent met your people yet. Dont worry , you will.

[esotericfaery]

No Trash in This Tea - An Inside View of the 4B Movement

For those of you confused by or against 4b +, heres a little Q & A style post from one of us, based on the types of issues we notice people complaining about. The “questions” are paraphrased, and the answers are mine. As always, women get slightly more leeway in responding to this, as they get one chance to politely discuss it with me. Only ally men are welcome to respond without being ignored and deleted.

Q. You’re just a bunch of man-haters.

A. Similar to how there are different types of feminism, we’re not all trying to make all women quit all men. I shouldn’t have to say “all” anything, because nothing that anyone says should be dismissed out of hand as an absolute. But it is what it is. 2024 Gonna 2024. Many of us love the certain men in our lives who have proven to be trustworthy; family members and friends we have known for a long time. This quitting of men is in all romantic & sexual ways, and in some cases when possible, during commerce. So for those of you who think this is some sort of cult which convinces people to leave their family and friends, it isn’t. It’s a perfectly reasonable social movement.

~

Q. You just need therapy to address trauma, then you will be normal and want a man again. It’s not normal to want to stay single. It’s unhealthy.

A. No, even though some of us declare 4b (or higher) because of physical trauma, some of us don’t. And even if we have had physical trauma, so what? I’m talking especially to you pick-me women who can’t seem to get it through your thick skulls that we’re not a threat to you. In fact, we’re trying to help you understand the way the world really is, because with you continuing on with men, you need to protect yourselves even more than us. This is about being realistic and about being prepared. This is about awareness, not fear.

The implication that trauma having to do with the movement is wrong, is grape culture. Essentially what you’re saying is, that all women should do is address what they experienced and suddenly, magically, men in general will become wonderful unicorns that we can’t possibly resist. You’re trying to reprogram us back into this fake hollyweird trash that a life without romance is empty. I feel compassion for the other people in your lives. Do you not have the same amount (albeit of a different type) of love for your friends and close family? How does it effect you, that we never want to be with a man again? It actually leaves more of them for you.

I’ve deprogrammed myself from all of the trash about romance being better than anything else, which I was infected with through the media, and now I’m not attracted to men at all anymore. The crushes I had on actors have disappeared. I’ve been asked on several dates since, and didn’t even feel tempted, though I recognized visually that both men were good-looking. So logically, yes some women can be celibate. I recently was celibate for 7 years, so I know I can do it again, permanently. Especially with the huge weight off my shoulders when I made the final decision. It’s great to have all of my time for the things I enjoy more than the tedium of dating; school, hobbies, friends.

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Q. What about kids? Don’t you want them? Every woman wants kids. You’ll regret it if you don’t have any.

I’d been programmed to think that it’s every woman’s duty to have kids. There was a time where I thought I wanted them. Now I’m glad that I didn’t have them, because even though as my loved ones say I would make a great mother, they take a lot of time and dedication which I’m not willing to give. That doesn’t make me selfish. This is my life and these are my decisions. On top of that, as equally valid is how we’re helping to put a stop to the epidemic of unwanted children, and we’re helping with overpopulation. Why would you even expect someone who doesn’t want kids to have them? This sounds like a projection; do you resent having kids? If so, that’s sad for them. Every child deserves parents who want them.

~

Q. You’re jealous because you can’t get someone as hot as my man.

A. You have internalized misogyny to address. Rather than attacking women for having been harassed and abused by men, and having chosen to take our lives back for us, look within. And look at your relationship. A woman who is secure in her relationship with a good man (yes, I know good men exist) would not react the way you are.

~

Q. Why are you 4b?

Because as this is my life, I get to make my own decisions. I don’t have to justify my lifestyle to anyone, but I choose to, with the goal of helping other women to be brave in expressing what they need, regardless of their lifestyle.

Like all women, I’ve been sexually harassed multiple times throughout my life. I’ve dated some men who seemed ok, but we stopped seeing each other due to just not feeling it anymore, or because of philosophical differences. My few long-term relationships involved men who started out seeming as if they were good people, and devolved into gaslighting. I decided that men are not worth the effort. Some of them are worth it for other women, but I identified enough of a pattern to understand the path that’s meant for me.

My toxic trait was staying in those unhealthy dynamics and allowing myself to be abused. So I quit, forgave myself, and have taken my life back for me.

~

Q. You’re all a bunch of miserable, fat, ugly cat ladies. No one wants you anyway.

A.

~

I hope that if you were triggered by this, whether or not you’re a woman or a man, that triggering leads to understanding, respect and compassion for all types of people who are not doing anything to hurt others.

I also hope you got the joke of the last “question”. Stay safe, happy, loving and loved.

Love, A 44-year old happily, permanently celibate woman from Ottawa, Ontario, Canada