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mohammedatallah · 2 months ago

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Read Iman's full message on our GFM page by clicking the link in the usual place. Please share widely and keep talking about humanity.

🍉🍉🍉👈👈Don't look away. Deep in pain. Feel your connection to the world. Feel our bond. Safe in the abundance of love. Join the people.

TEXT:🇵🇸

Back at the sea.

My home. Our home.

The crashing waves. The sunsets melting into the salt water. They are my friends who help me connect with the world.

I comb the waves with my hands and think of Iman who said to me, “I was preparing for the worst.”

On the other side of this sea, Iman prepares meals for her two children with whatever she can scrape together.

“We have lost all our livelihoods because of this war, and we are still clinging to life.”

I cling. I cling to the word.

There, little Amir rocks his baby sister to sleep. He knows a hunger I have never experienced.

“We don’t know what tomorrow holds. We have lost everything beautiful and we are about to lose more.”

I refuse to lose you. There is a glimmer of hope.

Please share this story and join me in helping my friend’s beloved wife Iman and her family. Within each of us is a light that can transform a dim glimmer into a flowing stream of abundant hope.

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capricorn-season · 2 years ago

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Homophobia in drag

When I was a young boy, I loved spending the night at my grandmother’s house. There, I could stay up as late as I wanted, and in the morning, there would always be Cinnamon Toast Crunch for breakfast. But the best part was raiding the closet in her basement, which was full of the gowns she had worn in the 1960s and 1970s – frilly pink and purple confections made of lace, chiffon and silk. I would put them on and watch The Golden Girls, sophisticatedly sipping Coke from a wine glass.

When I was nine, my dad bought a video camera, a giant monstrosity that my siblings and I struggled to balance on our shoulders while we filmed home videos. Alone, I’d prop the camera on the coffee table and record myself modelling various outfits, explaining to the camera why this plaid shirt went with these cargo shorts, or why this teal Starter jacket complemented these acid-washed jeans so perfectly. I captured on camera the dance I had painstakingly choreographed to Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch’s ‘Good Vibrations’.

As a kid, I followed my two older sisters around like a shadow, mimicking their mannerisms – the way they tucked loose strands of hair behind their ears when they were concentrating on their maths homework; the way they jutted their hips whenever they were talking to cute boys. Like them, I was a naturally athletic kid. My favourite sport was lacrosse, but I much preferred to play with the girls instead of the boys. The boys were quick to push and shove, and they loved to whack each other with their aluminium sticks. Girls relied more on their speed, their reflexes and the skills they’d honed to keep the ball securely cradled in the shallow mesh of their wooden sticks.

I grew up in a fundamentalist Christian community – most people would call it a cult. From kindergarten to the sixth grade, I attended the community’s tiny school. Because enrollment was so low, there was no in-crowd, no separate cliques of jocks and geeks. In retrospect, I’m sure my classmates and especially my teachers noticed my gender-nonconformity – all of my home videos prove that it was glaring – but it went largely ignored. All that mattered was that we were good Christians, that we loved Jesus and evangelised God’s Word to as many people as possible. When I learned about homosexuals in Bible class, or about AIDS (which we were told God had created to punish homosexuals for their sins), I didn’t think for a moment that I was one of them. Sure, my first real crush, when I was 11, had been on a boy – Elijah Wood, an actor about my age whose performance in the 1994 B-movie, North, had captured my heart. But at the time, before sexual maturity, I mistook the longing I felt for Elijah with the more sanitised desire to simply keep his company and be his best friend. I indiscriminately absorbed all of the lessons I learned about homosexuals, as if they were and would always be irrelevant to my life.

The summer after my sixth-grade year, my family left the community and we moved to a neighbouring town. I began seventh grade in a large public school, where there was definitely an in-crowd. My new classmates wasted little time informing me how unacceptable it was for a boy like me to behave the way I did – the way I enunciated my s-words, the way I brushed my auburn hair, which I had highlighted the previous summer with Sun-In. They called me a faggot, delivered me notes that said everyone knew my ‘dirty little secret’. They asked me frequently, ‘Are you a boy or a girl?’. Well, of course I was a boy, I would respond, trembling.

Meanwhile, I was beginning to sexually mature; I was soon developing crushes that inspired more than just a desire to keep a boy’s company. With horror, I realised that I might actually be what the kids were calling me – which, I knew in my bones, guaranteed me a tragically short life and a one-way ticket to hell. That, after all, was what the old form of homophobia entailed. Self-loathing.

To survive the onslaught, I defeminised myself. I lowered my voice, started wearing baggy jeans and sweatshirts, cut the highlights out of my hair, and replaced my Mariah Carey CDs with Nirvana. Soon, the fear and the anxiety became too much to bear, and the only refuge I found was in alcohol and drugs.

In high school, with each passing year, my drug use got worse. After graduation, I lasted one semester in college before dropping out. Two months later, at the age of 19, I had my first of several stays in a local psychiatric ward. I was delusional, addicted to drugs and suicidal.

It was during my second stay in the psychiatric ward that I was introduced to a 12-step programme, which was how I would eventually get sober in my early twenties. It was slow-going in the beginning of my sobriety to accept my homosexuality. I began to reconnect with the young boy I had once been, the boy whose interests expanded beyond what was typical for males. I experimented with bronzer and mascara, and got French manicures and pedicures.

Engaging in these behaviours felt liberating for a while, but eventually the novelty wore off. In fact, they started to feel performative. I realised I didn’t need those things to be my authentic self. My ideas, my voice, the way I treat other people – these are the things that make me the person I truly am.

In 2011, when I was 28, I fell in love with a man. The following year, I joined the fight for marriage equality. After we won that campaign, I knew I wanted to become a gay activist. I wanted to help create a world in which feminine boys and butch girls could exist peacefully in society. A world in which gender-nonconforming people were accepted as natural variations of their own sex. Minorities, sure, but real and valid nonetheless.

The trans question

In 2017, at the age of 33, I enrolled at Columbia University, New York to complete my undergraduate degree. There, I was shocked to discover how gay activism had evolved since marriage equality became the law of the land. The focus was now entirely on personal pronouns and on being ‘queer’. My classmates labelled me ‘cis’, short for cisgender. I didn’t even know what it meant. All I knew was that they called me ‘cis’ in the same cadence that the seventh graders had called me ‘fag’.

Soon, I learned about nonbinary identities, and that some people – many people – were literally arguing that sex, not gender, was a social construct. I met people who evangelised a denomination of transgenderism that I had never heard of, one that included people who had never been gender dysphoric and who had no desire to medically transition. I met straight people whose ‘trans / nonbinary’ identities seemed to be defined by their haircuts, outfits and inchoate politics. I met straight women with Grindr accounts, and listened to them complain about the ‘transphobic’ gay men who didn’t want to have sex with women.

All around me, it seemed, straight people were spontaneously identifying into my community and then policing our behaviours and customs. I began to think that this broadening of the ‘trans’ and ‘queer’ umbrella was giving a hell of a lot of people a free pass to express their homophobia.

At Columbia, I took classes on LGBT history, but much of that history was delivered through the lens of queer theory. Queer theorists appropriate French philosopher Michel Foucault’s ideas about the power of language in constructing reality. They argue that homosexuality didn’t exist prior to the late 19th century, when the word ‘homosexual’ first appeared in medical discourse. Queer theorists proselytise a liberation that supposedly results from challenging the concepts of empirical reality and ‘normativity’. But their converts instead often end up adrift in a sea of nihilism. Queer theory, which has become the predominant method of discussing and analysing gender and sexuality in universities, seemed to me to be more ideological than truthful.

In my classes on gender and sexuality in the Muslim world, however, I discovered something else, too. I learned about current medical practices in Iran, where gay sex is illegal and punishable by death, and where medical transition is subsidised by the state to ‘cure’ gays and lesbians who, the theocratic elite insists, are ‘normal’ people ‘trapped in the wrong bodies’. I privately drew parallels between the anti-gay laws and practices of Iran and what I saw developing in the West, but I convinced myself I was just being paranoid.

Then, I learned about what was happening to gender-nonconforming kids – that they were being prescribed off-label drugs to halt their natural development, so that they’d have time to decide if they were really transgender. If so, they would then be more successful at passing as the opposite sex in adulthood. Even worse, I learned that these practices were being touted by LGBT-rights organisations as ‘life-saving medical care’.

It felt like I was living in an episode of The Twilight Zone. How long were these kids supposed to remain on the blockers? And what happens in a few years, if they decide they’re not ‘truly trans’ after all, and all of their peers have surpassed them? Are they seriously supposed to commence puberty at 16 or 17 years of age? These questions rattled my brain for months, until I learned the actual statistics: nearly all children who are prescribed puberty blockers go on to receive cross-sex hormones. Blockers don’t give a kid time to think. They solidify him in a trans identity and sentence him to a lifetime of very expensive, experimental medicalisation.

I wondered how different these so-called trans kids were from the little boy I had been. Obviously, I grew up to be a gay man and not a transwoman. But how could gender clinicians tell the difference between a young boy expressing his homosexuality through gender nonconformity, and someone ‘born in the wrong body’? I decided to dig deeper into the real history of medical transition.

Medicalising homosexuality

What I learned validated all of my worst fears. I learned that for decades after their invention, synthetic ‘sex hormones’ were used by doctors and scientists who sought to ‘cure’ homosexuality, and by law enforcement to chemically castrate men convicted of committing homosexual acts.

I learned about actress and singer Christine Jorgensen, one of the first people in the US to become widely known for having ‘sex-reassignment’ surgery in the early 1950s. Jorgensen may now be celebrated by the modern ‘LGBTQIA+’ community as a trans icon, but he seemed more concerned with escaping his homosexuality, which he said was ‘deeply alien to my religious attitudes’. As Jorgensen put it, ‘I identified myself as female and consequently my interests in men were normal’.

I learned that of the first adolescents to be treated for gender dysphoria (or what was then called ‘gender identity disorder’) with puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones in the 1990s and early 2000s, the vast majority were homosexual. And I learned that these studies inform current ‘gender-affirming care’ practices.

Soon, I met detransitioned gay men who had sought an escape from internalised and external homophobia in a transgender identity. They continue to suffer severe post-surgical complications, years after their vaginoplasties.

I began to fear we had reached a point of no return a couple of years ago, during a conversation I had with a supposedly ‘progressive’ friend. I told her that, if I had been a young boy now, I likely would have been prescribed puberty blockers and gone on to medically transition. ‘And you don’t think you would’ve been happy as a transwoman?’, she asked me. Her question left me speechless. I couldn’t find the words to state the obvious: that I am a gay man, not a transwoman; that statistics tell me my medical transition may not have been successful; and that I would suffer severe medical complications. In any case, if I had transitioned, I wouldn’t be living an authentic life. After all, isn’t that what this is supposed to be about? Living authentically?

Sylvester, an androgynous disco icon of the 1970s and 1980s, was once asked what gay liberation meant to him. He answered, ‘I could be the queen that I really was without having a sex change or being on hormones’. Perhaps I belong in an earlier era, when newly liberated gays and lesbians rebelled against the medical and psychiatric experiments they had long been subjected to. Perhaps my early aspiration of expanding what it means to be a boy or a girl was nothing but a pipe dream. In Europe, there is hope that these medical experiments will cease, and that gay and lesbian adolescents will be spared from a lifetime of medicalisation. But in the US, nearly eight years after same-sex marriage became the law of the land, it is full-steam ahead with these homophobic practices.

For voicing my concerns about gender-affirming care for minors, I have been called a transphobic bigot. If that’s what speaking out against the medicalisation of homosexuality makes me, then so be it.

#gender critical #jk rowling #twitter #artículo

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moved-to-cyarinka · 2 years ago

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I just watched the latest episode three times in a row and I just. I need to talk about this.

More specifically, I need to talk about THIS moment:

…because this is some of the best autistic representation I’ve ever seen. I know, this is funky Star Wars animation how good can it be, but just bear with me for a minute.

When Omega asks Tech why he doesn’t act like they’re a family, he’s taken aback—he physically recoils. And then, instead of the simple, clumsy answer I expected, the writers did something I have NEVER seen before, not in a show or a movie or a game or ANYTHING.

They show him struggling to find the words. And they let him take his time to do it, because that’s what he needs.

You can see how hard he’s thinking about what to say to her. Finding the right thing to say doesn’t come easily when there isn’t technically a right answer. You can’t calculate the perfect response to a question like Omega’s, but you can try. He IS trying.

I have done this before. It sometimes takes genuine effort to phrase things the right way to not offend people, to force my tone to be acceptable, to communicate in a way that just doesn’t come naturally. I’ll sit in my therapist’s office for 3 minutes turning over a question in my head, trying out the answers until I have one that feels and sounds right. I have never seen anything like this before.

And then Tech hangs his head. It’s the weary acceptance that he’s different, and people don’t understand him, and he’s inadvertently hurt someone he cares about because he just. Doesn’t. Express himself the same way she does. But he doesn’t blame her for not understanding. When he sighs, you can tell he’s frustrated at himself.

I have felt this before. I have never felt so understood by a piece of media in my entire goddamn life.

All of this to say: I’m genuinely blown away by the nuanced understanding behind this scene. I never wanna hear that Tech is a negative stereotype of an autistic genius again—just because his autism isn’t some groundbreaking new uwu flavor doesn’t mean it’s not REAL. Ty for listening to my ramble if you got this far :))

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb tech #tbb omega #clone force 99 #star wars #the bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers #tbb season 2 spoilers #the bad batch season 2 spoilers #the bad batch season 2 #cyarinka.txt #analysis

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writingwithcolor · 1 year ago

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Afro-Latine Jewish woman maintaining cultural connection in an isekai comic

Anonymous asked:

Hello! Mixed Latin American nonbinary Jew here. I'm working on a, relatively light-hearted, isekai-style fantasy comic concept of an afro-latine Jewish lady who gets sent through a portal to a colorful scifi/fantasy land, inhabitated by various imaginary creatures sorta like in Alice in Wonderland. She gains magic powers and goes on adventures, working as a scientist researching the land's magical energy. (some of the local creatures she befriends are entirely original species, and some are inspired by my local folklore, but otherwise I try to avoid culturally coding the creatures since they're mostly nonhuman looking). The story isn't supposed to touch any heavy topics like antisemitism or racism, but I've read about the cultural problems in ""normie protagonist finds a new home in a funky fantasy world"" stories, f.ex. how Harry Potter's narrative basically implies that Muggleborns have to abandon their original cultures in order to successfully integrate into the very prejudiced but ""cooler"" Wizarding World. My original goal was to break the mold that escapism fantasy usually revolves around white protagonists adventuring in heavily Western-inspired fantasy worlds, and poc-coded characters are usually nonhuman creatures or racial stereotypes. However the protagonist girl in my story comes from a loving, latine-jewish human family, and while she regularly visits them on Earth instead of just staying in the fantasy land 24/7, I'm afraid that making her story be about being happy adventuring in a separate imaginary land filled with nonhuman characters might turn into an ""abandon your family and culture"" narrative. Are there any ways how I could avoid this? Maybe making the fantasy land's worldbuilding and designs more Latin American or Jewish inspired and thus resonate more with her cultural background, or making it clear that the land is not ""perfect"" and she still loves her family?

One of the first things that stands out to me is that you haven’t set her up to need to abandon her culture in order to make a life in another place. She has the ability to go home and visit her family, but I also don’t see any reason why, if she lives primarily in the fantasy land, she couldn’t be portrayed as practicing Judaism actively in her new home. It’s true that Judaism isn’t solely defined by religious/cultural practices, but it’s also true that religious/cultural practices are one of the most recognizable and most uniting elements of Jewish identity.

I think it might help in this case to think about Jewish practices in terms of communal versus personal: that is, what are practices she would need to seek out a Jewish community for, and what are practices she can do independently?

Does she control when she is able to visit her family? If so, visiting for Jewish holidays so that she can be at a family meal or holiday services seems like a way to highlight that she is just as connected to her family as someone who moved to a different city might be. If she experiences/has experienced the death of a family member or partner, going home to be with a Jewish community for shiva or to say kaddish on a yahrzeit is another touch (for readers who may be unfamiliar, Jewish mourning practices are intensely communal and are intentional about bringing the mourner into an active support system and slowly reintroducing them to the world, and as such a mourner is likely to spend this time somewhere where they can access and be supported by a Jewish community).

As far as practices she can engage with on her own in the fantasy setting, it would be nice to see her observing Shabbat, either in a traditional way by refraining from adventuring and instead engaging in hospitality and prayer between dusk Friday and sundown Saturday, or in a less-halakhic way if she comes from a Reform or comparatively-assimilated background, by marking Friday sunset with candles, blessings, and a good meal, even if she is intending to continue her research through the next day. She would hardly be the first Jewish person to live in a place without an established Jewish community, and a festive meal can be shared just as happily with non-Jewish friends if they’re griffons and fauns as if they’re Christians and Muslims.

Here’s one idea that I think would be hugely meaningful as a way of establishing both that she intends to make her home long-term in Fantasy World and that she intends to carry Jewish traditions with her into her new life: hang a mezuzah.

Think about it: a mezuzah is the visual marker of a Jewish home, as much to the resident as to a guest. When she is home from her adventures, in her garden cottage or enchanted tower or wherever she returns to between adventures to record and categorize her research, simply showing a mezuzah in the background instantly makes the point both that she is intending to stay, and that this is a Jewish space. If as time goes on she adds other Judaica items to her space, it can add to the sense that her Jewishness is present and alive in this world, simply because she is present and alive in it.

If she doesn’t have a settled space or if you’re not planning on setting any scenes there, having Jewish visual markers on and around her can help, too. For low-hanging fruit, maybe she has a silver Jewish Star or chai necklace that catches the light now and then, but since you’re going for a light, fun vibe, maybe she’s packing her adventuring supplies in a bright-blue vinyl backpack emblazoned with “Temple Shaarei Tzedek Junior Youth Retreat 1998” (am I old? I’m pretty sure there are adults reading this who were in Junior Youth groups in 2003, but I’m willing to bet retreat swag hasn’t changed that much).

I do like the idea of including Latin American and Jewish elements in the worldbuilding, especially as an intentional way to combat the cultural dominance of Western European folklore over fantasy writing, but because your character is from and has access to our world, you have the beautiful opportunity to carry real-world markers of Jewishness with her as well.

-Meir

I adore Meir’s answer, but then, I’m the kind of person to whom “enchanted tower with a mezuzah” as an aesthetic is so near and dear to my heart that I wrote a whole fantasy series about it. Couple of random suggestions: one thing I really enjoy is exposing my gentile friends to Jewish food—I love watching the absolute shock of delirium hit someone’s face the first time they taste my charoseth. Imagine this little bowl of chopped apples and walnuts, looking vaguely dirty because they’re soaked in cinnamon-infused wine, so it’s basically dingy beige slop….so that first bite of sensuous, deep sweetness is a huge surprise. Pick your favorite equivalent and imagine the first time a centaur or a winged princess or whatever other fantasy character tries it at your MC’s behest! (Feeding brisket to dragons would make a great name for…something…)

I don’t think you’re likely to do this anyway but since these are public answers: “fantasy world fun, Jewish upbringing a chore” is a narrative I would not feel at home in or care to read. But that’s a rather predictable remark from me anyway ;)

And of course I support the “the secondary fantasy world is actually Jewish” solution too, having one of my own.

–Shira

#Jumblr #Jewish #Judaism #Afro Latina #Afro Latine #Culture #Jewish culture #Jewish holidays #asks

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misseviehyde · 10 months ago

Text

STUDENT BODY

Your girlfriend Natasha was really worried about what was going to happen to your relationship once you started to attend different universities. She'd heard that long distance relationships could be really challenging and difficult.

Sure - it was always possible to communicate online and see each other that way, but without physical intimacy even the healthiest relationships would falter. But Natasha was always full of clever ideas.

"Listen babe. I've had an idea. My family have been guarding a magic scrying mirror for generations. I can use it to astrally project my spirit into another person. It's frowned upon to possess another person, but if it's just so we can talk and touch and stuff, I don't see the harm. Make sure you choose someone who is a real asshole though, that way I'll feel less bad about possessing them.

***

A month later you headed to University and began looking for someone suitable for Natasha to possess. It didn't take you long to find your target. Chanel Grey was the obnoxious, entitled sorority president of the most exclusive sorority on campus and perfect for your needs.

It didn't hurt that you had a huge crush on the busty bitch and the thought of your girlfriend inside that smoking hot body was kind of appealing. Chanel was a total asshole as well, so your girlfriend needn't feel bad about possessing her for a while.

You waited until Chanel was out shopping on her own one day and followed her to the mall. She usually had her team of funkies with her, but today she was flying solo and this was your best chance.

Ringing Natasha you waited patiently as she prepared the mirror in her bedroom. "Okay babe, I'll see you in a moment or two I guess."

You hung up and watched Chanel as she browsed through an expensive rack of designer clothes in one of her favourite stores. Suddenly she put a hand to her head as if she were dizzy. Then with a grunt her eyes rolled up into her head and she swayed on her feet slightly.

Moments later she shivered and her eyes came back into focus... only they seemed different somehow.

Chanel looked around, then spotting you walked confidently over. "Heya babe. What a body you found for me. I wasn't expecting you to pick anyone this hot."

It had worked. It had actually worked. Natasha was now inside Chanel!

She giggled and admired herself in a mirror. "Wow - this bitch is super stacked. She must have boobs three times the size of mine. And how fit is this body? Guess she must work out."

Natasha stretched, clearly enjoying how it felt to be inside Chanel. She then did a cursory check of her body, checking her pockets and her handbag.

"And I'm guessing she's rich too. I would never be able to afford a store like this. I'm guessing this is her Daddy's credit card. I mean I could try accessing her memories to check, but that can be dangerous. It can cause memories to get entwined."

You nodded not really understanding what she was saying but agreeing nonetheless.

"Only problem you've made for us is that someone is bound to notice us talking if we aren't careful. Chanel probably wouldn't be seen dead with someone like you. I wish you'd picked someone a little bit more low key even if they did have smaller boobs."

Natasha grabbed your hand and dragged you into the store. She pulled you into one of the dressing rooms and began fumbling at your belt.

"I know I said no sex, but this body is making me super horny. I don't think Chanel is a virgin, especially if those XXX condoms she is carrying in her handbag are anything to go by."

Giggling Natasha pulled out your cock and she smirked when she saw it was already rock hard. It looked so naughty in Chanel's lightly tanned hands - another woman's hands.

"Wow, guess you like Chanel's body too. Don't try to pretend this isn't what you wanted when you picked her as your target. Guess you now get to be sucked off by little Miss Popular."

With a giggle Natasha slid her pink glossy lips round your dick and began to suck. It felt good... really good and looking down you couldn't believe you were getting a blowjob from the most popular girl at uni. Turning to look at the dressing room mirror, you couldn't believe how hot it looked to see Chanel Grey's pretty head bobbing up and down on your cock. She was so fucking hot and now she was your slut.

Suddenly Natasha hesitated and her eyes went a little wide for a second. A moment later she attacked your dick with a fresh wave of enthusiasm, only this time it felt even better! Natasha was doing something with her tongue you had never felt before and her lips seemed tighter than ever. She was also making eye contact now and little groaning sounds and together it was all too much.

You began to cum and groaning you ejaculated into Natasha's mouth. It felt really good and it was a big heavy load. "Mmmhppphhh," gurgled Natasha happily.

To your surprise, she swallowed all of your load. Normally Natasha hated the taste of cum and would spit it out, but now she was inside Chanel, she seemed to enjoy it. Delicately wiping her pretty lips, she smiled and let go of your cock.

"Mmmh, sorry if I zoned out for a second there baby," she grinned. "I accidentally accessed Chanel's memories on blowjobs. Damn but she knows her stuff and she's sucked some good dick. Bigger than yours I guess."

You felt a sudden irrational jealousy. It wasn't like Natasha had actually sucked someone else's dick, but her having those memories seemed wrong somehow.

"I wish we had time for you to fuck me properly, but we'll get busted if we stay in here any longer. Come on."

Sorting out her hair and makeup Natasha indicated you should wait a moment and she slipped out first.

You waited a few minutes, then slipped out too. Looking around for Natasha you cursed as you saw her with a group of hot looking girls. She'd bumped into Chanel's friends! She made eye contact with you for a second then shrugged. Desperate not to blow her cover she decided to just go with it and helpless you watched her walk away with them - just like the real Chanel would.

****

Hours passed when your phone began to buzz. You weren't expecting a phone call from an unknown number, but you answered and it was Chanel's voice on the other end.

"Sorry about that babe. I couldn't get away from those bitches. I had to access more of my... I mean Chanel's memories just to convince them I was her."

Natasha began to explain how she had spent the rest of the morning with the girls doing hot girl shit. Hair, makeup, nails, coffee, more shopping.

Natasha usually hated all that kind of stuff, so you were surprised to hear genuine enthusiasm in her voice.

"I was pissed off that you chose this body for me at first. But the longer I spend as Chanel, the more I'm starting to enjoy being beautiful and popular. It's a unique experience. I understand how this body possession could get quite addictive. It's said that if you astrally project for too long your soul can bond with the wrong body and you get stuck forever. Imagine that. Imagine if I was Chanel permanently."

Her voice was joking, but also had a strange undertone to it.

"Of course I'm only doing this for a bit at a time so should be safe. I'm gonna hop back to my own body in a second. First though I've been horny all morning and haven't got off yet. Chanel has quite the selection of sex toys and I thought you'd like to listen. Right now I'm lying on her bed playing with myself."

You felt your cock stiffen as Natasha began to describe what she was doing.

"Mmmmh I'm touching Chanel's big bitchy tits and rubbing her tight pink pussy. Her soft hair is all around me and I feel like such a hot slut. Her pussy and clit are more sensitive than mine, you'd love this tight pussy. I have a finger inside myself. It feels so fucking good. I can't believe how wet I am already. Ooooh fuck yes."

Natasha began to moan and pant, you imagined her arching her back and gasping like a slut as she played with herself. You wished you were there, you were so jealous.

"Yesssss, yessss, I fucking love this body. I'm gonna cum so good in a bit. Mmmmh think I'll try this big thick dildo to help me get there. I want you to imagine it sliding inside my tight cunt, stretching me out baby. Chanel's tight pussy gripping every inch as I begin to pump it in and out. Ooooh fucccckkk."

Wet sounds of pleasure and pants and moans of lust came down the phone and you began to pump your own cock faster. This was so fucking hot.

"Ooooooh fuck, it's never felt THIS good before. Mmmmmh my new body was built for sex. Ooooh shit I can take it deeper than ever before, I feel like such a hot slut. My pussy is gonna explode! Ahhhh ohhhhh fuckkkk."

A screaming gasping squealing squirt of pleasure blasted down the phone as Natasha began to cum and you creamed your own belly with more of your own cum. The thought of her enjoying Chanel's body was just too erotic. That had been so hot.

"Mmmh, think I might play with myself a bit more before leaving her body. She won't properly remember everything she did when I was in control, just the gist. It's her brains own mental defense helping to keep my possession secret. She'll think she did all of this. So long as I don't do anything too out of character - I can have this hot little body whenever I like."

And with that she hung up...

***

For the next week you looked forward to your girlfriends daily possessions of Chanel. As Natasha predicted, the popular girl didn't seem to notice anything amiss and she certainly didn't show any indication she recognised you at uni.

It was strange to see that pretty face look at you blankly. The same face that hours before had been sucking you off or kissing you. To your shame you began to fantasize more and more about Chanel's beautiful features and soft sexy voice than Natasha's body.

But there was frustration too. Mostly the possessions seemed to involve a quick blowjob or handjob, then Natasha would go off with Chanel's friends. There was never anytime to have proper sex. Natasha even refused your offers to eat her out or finger her. You had never actually gotten to see Chanel's pussy.

Her popularity and prestige made it hard for you to spend any time whilst she was Chanel and you began to regret choosing such an exclusive target.

Natasha was acted weird too. She seemed to have accessed more of Chanel's memories for some reason and even when in her own body was acting more aloof and haughty. She'd started working out, stopped wearing her glasses and she sounded like she was starting to treat everyone like a real bitch.

She also seemed to be enjoying hanging out with Chanel's friends and living the life of a popular bitch more than she should. Her stories began to focus more and more on how much she had enjoyed hanging out with her girls and bullying the losers on campus, than the chance to be with you.

You were shocked the first time she described bullying someone. Shocked at how full of glee and enthusiasm she was.

"Some dumb little bitch dared to get in my way in the store. Can you believe it? She walked right out in front of me and when she saw who I was tried to apologise. I pushed the little loser into a clothes rail and knocked her over. She won't dare complain to the Dean, she knows I'd destroy her life. I left her crying in the shop - it was SO funny."

The possessions were supposed to bring you both closer together, not push you further apart, but now you were really starting to worry. Natasha had even insisted you set up a monthly payment to Chanel's bank account so she could buy even more clothes and things - but she never wore them for you.

The first real betrayal came when you found out that Natasha had been possessing Chanel on some days and not even telling you. She accidentally let slip a story about having dinner with her girls and you realised she hadn't told you she was available that day.

"Oh yeah? So? I sometimes slip back into Chanel when you're not around or I just feel like some me time. Her body fits me like a glove these days, I can hop in with no resistance anymore and I enjoy living her pampered life for a bit. What's your problem with that loser?"

You were shocked to hear the venom in her voice.

"Oh did I call you a loser? Sorry babe - that's what Chanel thinks about you. I've been accessing more of her memories and it's hard to fight off her impression of you as a nerdy, worthless, loser. I mean - of course I don't think that about you. Anyway gotta go."

She cut you off abruptly and that was the end of that.

***

The next betrayal happened soon after.

Natasha had stopped giving you blowjobs when she possessed Chanel, saying she was too busy or didn't feel like it. If you were lucky, you'd get a disinterested handjob from her and even that was becoming rarer.

It was like Natasha no longer cared about possessing Chanel to spend time with you, but simply so she could BE Chanel. It was also clear she had pretty much accessed all of Chanel's memories now and it had affected her.

Natasha's old speech patterns were gone. Whether she was inside Chanel or not she now spoke like a bitchy valley girl. Now when she called you 'babe' it was with a hint of mockery and her pretty lips always had a cruel bitchy sneer and her eyes a glint of malice. She held herself with a haughty arrogance and her body language had become like that of a spoiled ballet dancer.

"Just look at me. I'm so fucking PERFECT," purred Natasha as she admired herself in her stolen body. "Sorry 'babe' no time to give that tiny dick of yours a blowie. I have to meet the girls for some shopping. I have a new set of lingerie I'm desperate to try. See you later loooooser."

Despite Natasha's increasing distance, the dirty phonecalls continued and it had become the only source of your sex life. You'd listen to Chanel/Natasha moaning down the phone-line and telling you about fucking herself whilst touching yourself.

Recently though Natasha had told you that you weren't allowed to cum unless she said so. She also would cut off the phone unexpectedly, or sometimes not even ring at all leaving you blue-balled and desperate.

Then out of the blue she contacted you to tell you she had an idea how you could spend more time together.

"I've been telling all my hot friends about my cute sissy male friend... in other words you! If you go along with it and play the part, then I'm sure we can hang out more. All you gotta do is come over and act like a girly gay boy and the sorority will accept you. Maybe you'll even finally get to fuck me."

Natasha took you shopping and made you buy a load of new outfits. They were much tighter and more feminine than you were used to. Skin tight jeans, a crop top that showed off your body. You looked completely different. "There. Now you look more like a twink. We'll get your hair dyed blonde and styled, then get you into some of my panties and no one will believe you're straight."

You couldn't believe you were going along with it, but told yourself it would be worth it to spend more time with your hot girlfriend in her sexy new body.

She led you back to the sorority house and the girls swarmed you. You remembered what Natasha had told you, so you acted as camp as you possibly could. Strangely it came quite naturally, like you'd been putting on a masculine front for years and this was actually who you truly were.

To your surprise you began to have fun - gossiping, giggling, hanging out with the girls. You didn't even feel horny anymore.

Eventually Natasha showed you up to Chanel's amazing bedroom. It was quite a palace - as befitted the head of a sorority.

Lying on expensive silk sheets, she made you strip and try on her panties. You were a bit uncomfortable when she suddenly took some photos of you, but she promised they were just for fun and she'd delete them later.

Soon Natasha had images of you dressed in her bra, panties - wearing her makeup. It was like playing dress up it was fun.

You had hoped that she would now lock the door and offer to sleep with you at last - but to your disapointment she told you that she was tired and that the girls would get suspicious if you didn't come out soon.

Putting on your new outfit, you left the house feeling dejected - and yet strangely satisfied. It was like something was awaking inside you.

You wondered what tonight would bring...

***

After your dress up session, you hadn't been expecting more contact from Natasha, so it was a surprise when your phone rang that evening.

She sounded horny, there was a slutty catch in her voice and an excitement you couldn't quite place.

"Mmmmmh, heya 'babe'. So I'm lying here in some new expensive lingerie and I also picked up a new toy at the Mall. Wanna listen to me get off?"

Without waiting for your permission you heard the rustle of clothing and Natasha's breath catching. "Ohhhh wow, it's like nine inchs long or something. This really is a magnificent 'toy'."

You heard Natasha moan and soon there were sucking, slurping and popping sounds coming down the phone. It was unusual for her to simulate doing a blowjob, you imagined her lying on her back with a dildo in her mouth. She was doing a great job, it almost sounded like a real dick she was sucking.

Then you heard a grunt of pleasure. A male grunt. Did she... was she ACTUALLY sucking another guys cock? You angrily asked her causing her to giggle.

"Of course not babe, you must be hearing things. Mmmmhhh I'm here all on my own and I'm soooo fucking horny right now. Ohhh shit he's, mmmmh I mean I'm putting it inside me and it feels so good."

You heard the sounds of heavy breathing, then a soft wet slapping sound that grew harder and faster till it was soon the hot sound of hard male flesh slapping against soft female buttocks.

"Ooooh fuck YESSSS. You fuck me soooo good, I mean... my dildo fucks me so good. Ahhhhh ohhhh fuck, this feels amazing."

You were sure you could hear grunting and laughing as Natasha's moans of pleasure grew and the sounds of hot heavy fucking filled your ears.

It sounded like she was bent over on all fours now getting railed hard. Her breathing was heavy, you could hear the bed squeaking and shaking.

"Mmmmmh imagine if there really was a guy here fucking me. A big stong Alpha Jock with rippling muscles and a big dick?"

The slapping increased and Natasha let out a gutteral moan of pleasure.

"Making me cum in ways you never could. Ooohhhh fuck, what would you do about it then you fucking loser? You'd probably just jerk off to the thought anyway. You're so pathetic. Isn't he such a fucking cuck baby?"

Male laughter filled the line and the phone slipped out of your numb hands as the screams of ecstasy pumped out of your phone and you jerked off to the sound of your girlfriend getting pumped.

***

"Of course I didn't fuck a guy last night," laughed Natasha as you confronted her later. "It's all in your mind, you're just losing it. You pay me to pretend to be your girlfriend right so that's what I do. It's all make-believe."

You gawped at her in shocked amazement.

"Don't you remember loser? You wanted to pay me regular amounts to roleplay as your girlfriend and pretend she'd possessed me. I've got the monthly payments to prove it."

You shook your head in disbelief. No - this wasn't right. She WAS your girlfriend.

Chanel/Natasha laughed. "Oh come on. I knew you were mentally unstable, but seriously? You actually believe I'm your long distance girlfriend possessing this body? I mean - magic isn't possible loser. Fucking hell, I was worried you were losing your mind, but this is the final straw. Our little arrangement is over. I'm not pretending to be Natasha anymore and don't try to cause any trouble. I have photos of you dressed like a sissy loser I could release at any time, not to mention proof you've been paying me to pretend to be your girlfriend. It's over 'babe'."

Laughing Chanel walked away shaking her head.

***

Picking up the phone you desperately rang Natasha's cellphone. You were so confused. Was Natasha really possessing Chanel or had you invented the whole thing in your head.

No one answered so you called Natasaha's sister. She sounded upset on the phone.

That's when you found out that Natasha had been in a coma for nearly two weeks. Apparantly her family had come home one day to find her slumped over a table, totally unresponsive. It was like she wasn't there anymore - zero brain activity.

"We tried contacting you, but you didn't answer any of our calls or get back to us. What the hell is going on?"

You hung up - stunned.

Running over to the sorority house you banged on the door and demanded to be led to Chanel. You found her in her bedroom dressed in sexy lingerie and looking particularly bratty.

You accused her of abandoning her body, of becoming trapped inside Chanel. You begged her to leave Chanel and go back to her old body before it was too late. How long before her family decided to switch off the incubator and let her old body die. You begged and pleaded.

Chanel just looked at you coldly.

"Listen here you fucking loser. There are two possibilities you are describing. In one, I'm actually your stupid long-distance girlfriend who has become addicted to being a hot popular girl, absorbed all of her memories and replaced her. In this scenario I'm a body thief who loves what I have become and doesn't give a shit about you or anyone else.

In the second scenario, you're a crazy repressed sissy who has gone off the deep end at University due to the shock of his girlfriend falling into a coma. Full of unresolved guilt, you've created an elaborate fantasy pretending that I'm actually her - when in fact I'm Chanel Grey, popular girl and sorority president and that's who I have always been.

What I wanna know is - how in either of these scenarios you think it ends well for you? I know which scenario the police and everyone else will believe. I have photographic evidence that you're a pervert who wishes he was a girl. I have payments into my bank account for role-playing your girlfriend, and I can detail all the times I sucked your dick for money.

You have nothing. No evidence, no proof that any of this is true. You just sound like a fucking crack-pot.

Now why don't you get the fuck out of here before I call my new boyfriend over and get him to beat the shit out of you?"

What choice did you have? You turned and ran.

***

Chanel Grey watched the pathetic sissy loser she had just bullied turn and run with a thrill of sexual pleasure. She enjoyed being mean to people and indulging her cruel whims. Toying with this loser had been really fun.

Walking up to the mirror she examined her perfect reflection.

Who was she?

She was Chanel Grey. She was rich, spoiled and popular. She had a boyfriend with a big dick that was coming over to fuck her.

Nothing else mattered really.

THE END

#possesion #gaslighting #bitchification #evie hyde #f2f transformation #f2f corruption #corruption #uni #college #permanent possession #identity loss

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aroaceleovaldez · 7 months ago

Note

do you have anymore rogue demigod headcanons? recently i've been thinking of my own rogue demigod ocs and trying to come up with ideas for them

BOY DO I

Okay i have a lot of very niche thoughts about how rogue demigods work and the sort of loose culture they have as a collective group. I'll go over the main thoughts I have and throw some bonus loose rogue concepts at the bottom of the post just for fun if anyone wants oc ideas. Below a cut cause i've thought about this a lot so there's. a lot:

Most rogues take the "names have power" thing a lot more seriously than campers do, since they don't have the protection of the camps to help them. As a result, many rogues go by "rogue names" or pseudonyms. Some chose their names on the spot, others slowly gained a name over time or were nicknamed by other rogues. Some may choose to not go by a rogue name, but many at least have one even if they don't always use it. Some rogue name hcs I have for specific canon characters include: "Hound" or "Hound of Hades" for Nico (cause hellhounds, also rogues making jokes about him being "the camps'/Olympians' dog"), "Rue" for Chris (named himself after Clarisse cause he missed her, though he's too bashful about it to admit it), Luke's was "Titan," and Hylla's being "Twice-Kill" is just canon. It's also fun to play around with how common some rogue names might be ("Wolf" and other animal names are definitely popular), how silly some might be (Just the first thing that popped into their head, their old street/town name, a famous actor or character, a youtuber's name/handle, cryptids, etc etc. "Ender" is also definitely popular. yknow. from Minecraft), and what stereotypes might be associated with rogue names/common rogue names. You can get real funky with it really easily. I'm personally a big fan of there being a rogue joke about people with animal-themed rogue names, just because of how common they probably are. It's probably rare that somebody earns an animal-themed rogue name from the collective community rather than just picking it themself. Also easy jokes about rogues sliding by with youtuber names or similar just cause most rogues can't access the internet, so they don't get the reference.

Almost all rogues knew about other mythologies/pantheons way before the camps did. It's a very open-secret type of thing. It's pretty impossible for them to not run into demigods from other pantheons living like they do. They just generally don't tell camper demigods about it, partially because it's sort of an unspoken rogue agreement to keep it secret from them for general demigod safety and also because most rogues don't like campers, so it's kind of a joke to keep them in the dark. Titan Army demigods were very well aware of both camps in particular.

The Amazons, Hunters, Circe's Sorceresses, and other rogue groups are also fully aware of this but don't ever mention it, even if they're camp-affiliated. The sorceresses just generally didn't run into campers enough for it to be relevant (and the campers they did run into probably never went back). For Amazons they're probably just too focused in profits to bother stirring up trouble by telling the camps about it. The Hunters probably don't mention it for the safety of the camps.

Camp Jupiter is very anti-rogue and hostile towards rogues in general. It's very rare that rogues are able to join the legion, and anyone who leaves to become a rogue is formally exiled and can't ever return. Most people who join the legion have to either be sponsored by a retired legionnaire family living outside of camp or just wholly directed to camp by a god (or representative of a god - see: Nico for Hazel). Rogues particularly hate CJ because of that. CHB on the other hand is perfectly willing to take in former rogues and there are plenty of ex-rogues in CHB who are fully aware of other pantheons. They just. Don't feel like ever mentioning it. Rogues are generally a bit kinder towards CHB because of their more open friendliness towards rogues, and will help direct new demigods towards CHB fairly often. They're still not fans of it most of the time, but they understand rogue life isn't for everyone and that it's safer, at least.

A lot of rogues take mercenary work, or other hired jobs. Technically this one is just kind of canon. See: Lots of TOA rogues, even some rogues from PJO and HoO are implied to have been hired by the Titan Army or Giant Army (or Octavian). This line of work is seen as totally legitimate to rogues, though there's a lot of different opinions within rogue circles about how it should be gone about. The most common opinion is that it's taboo to take or hire hits on those who run safehouses. Rogue safehouses are usually considered off-limits for any kind of targeting, and trying to target them is sure to ruin your reputation. Stealing or inter-rogue violence is generally considered on the table though. It's largely a lawless space. If you're particularly cruel or try to throw your weight around a lot though, you're sure to be ostracized by other rogues. Because of this, groups like the Titan Army who vocally advertised a lot of trying to make life better for rogues were popular, but other groups like the Giant Army or Tri are significantly less popular because they're seen as just power-grabs trying to hire extra muscle because they can't handle their petty squabbles on their own. Most rogues who joined the Giant Army or Tri were either indebted to them somehow or really desperate and willing to take more dubious jobs.

Norse rogues are actually significantly more common than Greek or Roman rogues, as they don't have any options for a camp to train at instead of living as a rogue, and get hunted down by monsters once they become old enough often regardless of specific parentage. Norse rogues are often more willing to take more dangerous work, as they hope it will either attract the attention of their godly parents to help them or if they build up reputation and die valiantly it will be enough to get them into Valhalla.

Safehouses are rare, but not unheard of. They're mostly just rare because their success rates vary wildly, and many try to build one but fail. The successful ones are often widely known in rogue circles, and there are some that are trade/gathering hubs to find work or restock supplies (and catch up on news). Most are considered peaceful zones, though there are some where combat is allowed, or may even have spectator sports like gladiator battles or etc where rogues can try to build up their reputations and notoriety.

Not every demigod benefited from Percy's deal that the Olympians had to claim all their kids - for some, they could have otherwise slid under the radar, but being claimed caught the attention of monsters and forced them on the run. Some got claimed in the middle of doing something in their mundane lives (with the gods doing some mass-claimings after the war) and had to run away on the spot, and resent Percy/CHB/The Olympians for it.

Free to use rogue demigod concepts:

Amazons and Hunters count as rogues! Anything with them is always fun. Ex-Circe sorceresses are also very fun.

Titan Army, Giant Army, and Tri rogues are also always very fun to play with.

Rogue satyrs, fauns, and nymphs! Or monsters/part-monsters, even!

Cursed rogues! Maybe they're part-monster, and/or the curse is part of them being banished/exiled somehow.

Rogues who run safehouses, or rogues who don't run safehouses but live there. What's their community like? How does it function? What are the rules there, and what's life like there? What's their role?

Think of a rogue name and then make a character themed around that. It's VERY fun I highly recommend it, especially if the names are leaning silly. Rogues stealing youtuber names, or their favorite anime characters, or some other pop-culture reference and hoping nobody notices. Rogue named Vriska or Sans or something. Rogues named after Pokemon. Get funky with it.

Rogues who work with monsters, or have alliances with them! How did their alliance come to be? Is it reliable? Why do they work together - what do either of them get out of it? etc etc.

Mercenary rogues, or other rogues who do hired work. Who are their clients, and what does their work entail? How does that impact their reputations?

Rogues who were revived with the Doors of Death. what were their lives like before they died? How did they die? How did they come back? Were they ever part of the Giant Army? What's their second life like?

Multiple generation rogues! Second-gen or third-gen rogues who were born into rogue life outside the camps but have always known about demigod communities.

Demigod who got claimed unexpectedly from the post-Titan War mass-claiming stuff and was forced on the run.

Norse rogues! Rogues from different pantheons! Or even rogue magicians! How do their lives differ from Greek/Roman demigods? What do they get up to?

#pjo #riordanverse #headcanon #headcanons #rogue demigods #Anonymous #ask #I LOVE ROGUE OCS!!!!! also love to see other people making them!#theyre so fun and versatile love those funky guys

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stinkylittleboiii · 2 years ago

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My girl Funky got some new lashes

Just cheap ones I found online and a bit of lash glue.

She is slowly becoming “That Bitch”

I love my goth girl Funky, she’s a WIP but she’s coming together nicely.

#funky the furby #furby family #my furbies #my furby #1999 furby #furby fashion #furby fandom #furby community #furby lashes #goth furby

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hiwelcometothemonstersancturary · 6 months ago

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IT IS DONE! My main ref for Prometheus ship, aka Angel/The Player x The Prototype/Experiment 1006! Some thoughts under the cut:

Angel was Prototype's gender funkiness awakening. "What do you mean this thing I though was a me-thing only is not only normal but there's whole communities just about people who feel the same?" He lowkey cried when he found out about it.

Elliot was born either in 1898 or 1900, so there's an almost 60 years difference between them.

Elliot was just a bit smaller than Angel, but thanks to becoming the Prototype he's not GIGANTIC. RIP a king on the shorter side.

They're both aroace and on a loving QPR.

Angel is generally very physically affectionate, while Proto isn't used to touching others in general.

Angel is a bit awkward sometimes, while Proto is like. Half the time. Mostly because he doesn't remember his last relationship experience/it was 70 years ago, and also because some things are just so strange for him to do.

Prototype also isn't the jealous type, but when compared to Angel he does feel a bit of jealousy from time to time, always when a stranger/someone outside the family is interacting with Angel.

Proto is overprotective over his family in general, but Angel is a special case because they're the only human there.

Neither of them are too big on PDA - they're both really chill about it.

Proto can cook in theory but he can't make anything near as good as what Angel does.

Even if Prototype could fit into the driver's seat, Angel does NOT trust him to be there, esp with his hallucinations and tendency to go WAY too fast.

They aren't scared of bugs at all, but sometimes Angel just takes the little guys outside instead of killing them.

Angel is an introvert, but when compared to Proto they're like a social butterfly. Proto can safely talk with others without any problems, he just doesn't like it.

Proto uses "dear" from time to time. Angel uses nicknames for everyone - there isn't anything tied specific to what they would use for a lover.

Proto can't fit most of Angel's clothes, but Angel STEALS whatever they can find. It's theirs now.

If it wasn't for the massive size different, Proto and Angel would alternate from little spoon to big spoon without problem.

This is more of a +18 thing but if they weren't completely uninterested in sex, Angel's horny level would be around their waist, and Proto is the same as his physical affection level.

#poppy playtime #poppy worldwide #save everyone au #ppt prometheus #experiment 1006 #the prototype #the angel #garca art

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mohammedatallah · 2 months ago

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