#not realizing this is genuinely so fucking unhelpful

[peachznscream]

The way other countries treat the Us is like how people in liberal US states treat the south

[starcrossedxwriter]

Princess’s Punishment (MBJ x Reader)

A/N: I didn’t have the energy to go back and find the two asks lol but this is a request from two folks for a kinky punishment story with. So enjoyyyy!

Warnings: degradation, name calling, NSFW, lots of kinks (spanking, cockwarming, etc)

***

“What do you think?” You gave her fiancee a model-like twirl so he could examine your outfit from all angles. 

Michael glanced up from his phone and the email he was typing, letting out a low whistle as his eyes swept over your perfect frame. 

“That dress gon’ get you into trouble, Princess.” 

You threw him a coy smile before turning back to the giant mirror in the middle of the store. You were the only customer there, Michael preferring to reserve stores for an hour or two so you could have a private and serene shopping experience. It ensured everyone in the store was solely dedicated to getting you exactly what you needed and wanted. Most stores happily obliged, knowing that anytime Michael brought his princess in, the limit on his card was nonexistent. Today was no different. 

“That looks great on you,” a man offered as he emerged from the back of the store. His dreads were neatly pulled back out of his face. He was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome, the exact type of man who would have once turned your head before you met Michael, the love of your life. But no one compared to the literal sexiest man alive in your eyes and that was a fact. 

You had never seen him in the store before but when the woman you typically worked with didn’t return, you realized he would be assisting you. 

“Hope you don’t mind. Jenn had a family emergency. I’m Marcus,” he reached out to shake your hm which you accepted with a bright smile. 

“Nice to meet you. Y/N,” you introduced yourself before turning back to the mirror, your hands running over the luxuriously soft material that hugged your curves. “Not sure this is the most flattering though.” 

“I have another dress in the back, we just got it in. Similar to this one but it’s perfect for you. Will be far more flattering. A body like that… you should show it off.” 

You did not pick up on the obvious flirting in his tone, particularly as that was the farthest thing from your mind. You merely nodded with a smile. “Thank you. That would be great. Can’t wait to see it.” 

“I’ll bring that and a couple other pieces. We technically aren’t supposed to show them yet but for a friend,” he winked at you. “I can bend a few rules.” 

“Really??” You were merely excited about getting an advanced look at your favorite store’s new pieces. 

“Of course. Be right back.” 

“Thank you!” You watched him for a few moments as he walked away before turning to Michael whose face was set in a scowl. “Everyone here’s so nice all the time.” 

“That nigga’s nice cause he wants to fuck you,” Michael grumbled, his tone signaling that he was not as pleased with the service as you.” 

Your jaw fell open before you laughed at the absurdity of the idea. Men rarely flirted with you, if ever. “Come on, baby. Don’t be silly. He wants us to spend money, likely to make his commission better so he’s just being extra complimentary.” 

“Nahhh, I watched him basically undress you with his fuckin’ eyes, Princess. Besides, I’m the one payin’ and nigga didn’t say shit to me. Acted like I’m not even here. I don’t like him.” 

You merely laughed, clearly not realizing that Michael was genuinely upset with the salesman. “Aww my grumpy baby. You don’t like anyone,” you teased before disappearing into your dressing room to try on more outfits. 

Outfit after outfit, you pranced around for your boyfriend and gave him a fashion show. He was thoroughly unhelpful as he loved 95% of the items you tried on and refused to help you narrow down the massive stack of clothes. Anytime you went shopping, he thought you should buy everything you remotely liked, even if you had one exactly like it in the closet at home. 

“What do you think? Don’t need both black dresses,” you muttered more to yourself than either man in the room. 

“You look perfect in both. Just get both.” 

“Not helpful, babe!” 

“I think you should get the one you have on. Shows off your body better.” 

“You commentin’ on her body a lil too much, my nigga,” Michael called out, clearly frustrated by Marcus’ innocent compliments toward you as you finished trying on clothes. 

“Michael!” You whipped your head around in shock at his rudeness. “Sorry, he gets very grumpy when we’ve been shopping too long.” 

“No apologies needed,” he raised his hands in surrender before making an excuse to go to the back of the store to get her something else. 

You scoffed once he was gone, you and Michael having a silent standoff. 

“That was hella rude,” you chastised him. 

Michael merely shrugged “Hella rude for him to openly flirt with my girl in front of me. He bold enough for that shit, he’s bold enough to take the heat.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“Nah and what were you doin’? Flirting back with that nigga.” 

You let out a laugh at the absurdity of that statement. “Flirting back?? It’s called being nice. I only got eyes for one, very jealous man.” 

And with that, you disappeared back into the changing room to put back on your real clothes. You could not understand what was up with Michael as of late. He seemed to be so much more jealous than he used to be lately, snapping or glaring at any man who got too close or talked to you for too long. He had done the same thing at a premiere just last week. You had chalked the first couple times up to him having a bad day but now you wondered if something else was wrong. 

“You ok?” You asked as you both patiently waited for Marcus to package your mountain of clothes and accessories. 

His eyebrow was furrowed with an angry expression on his face. Still packing most of the weight of Erik Killmonger, he looked intimidating to say the least. But you did not understand what he could be that upset about, nothing had even happened. 

He did not answer you, merely handing Marcus his card to finish paying. 

“Need help getting these to your car?” Marcus asked, his hands already preparing to grab the heavy garment bags and smaller shopping bags 

“That would be g-” you started to say when Michael immediately cut you off. 

“Nah we got it.” His short tone made you cringe slightly, Marcus’s face blanching at the rudeness of it. 

He gestured for his security to pick up the bags and grabbed the rest himself before gesturing for you to exit the store. You merely offered a polite thank you before following him out of the store. 

***

As soon as you walked into the house, you started up the stairs to put your new items in their proper spots when he stopped you. 

“Princess!” 

“What’s up, babe?” 

His tone and face looked almost bored as he scrolled on his phone. “When you’re done, assume the position by the counter.” 

Your eyes grew wide with surprise. Assume the position was a clear directive in the Jordan household, one that let you know the relaxing evening you had planned was not going to happen. A sign that you had upset your master, and thus, must be punished. 

“What did I do??” The logical part of your brain was well aware he was not going to tell you. If your infraction was not obvious, he rarely told you what it was until the punishment had started. But as you racked your brain, you could not understand what on Earth you did to upset him. You had a really nice day together and aside from the weird interaction with the sales associate, he seemed fine. Then it clicked in your brain. 

His jealous streak seemed to not have ended earlier, after all. 

“That’s for me to know and you to find out. 10 minutes.” 

He did not spare you another glance before he disappeared toward the living room, leaving you gawking after him on the stairwell.

“Fuck my life,” you muttered as you raced up the stairs. You completely disregarded your original mission of putting your clothes away, you did not have time for that. 

Instead, you stripped down to nothing and pulled your braids out of their high ponytail. You went to your drawer and pulled out the various things you knew were required: your collar and leash, nipple clamps, flogger, blindfold, and ball gag. He did not always use them all and sometimes he used none of them. But that was another thing for him to know and you to find out. 

You descended down the stairs, your entire body almost floating with anticipation. You knew whatever he had planned would be the most delicious form of torture and that he would fuck you senseless once you begged for his forgiveness enough. 

Michael was leaning against the counter, scrolling on his phone as he waited. Ingredients for dinner laid out on the counter. 

“Thinkin’ short ribs for dinner. Cool?” He asked, his voice completely calm and normal despite what you knew was about to happen. The sweet, doting finace who cared what you wanted for dinner would disappear and a new persona would take over. 

“Sounds good. Thanks, babe.” 

“You ready, Princess?” he asked, checking in as he always did before an intense punishment or scene, which you always appreciated. They were punishments but they were supposed to be pleasurable, in a way, for you too. 

“Yes, daddy,” you answered immediately, handing him all the toys you brought with you before sinking down to your knees before him. You spread your legs just enough for your flower to be on display for him, already wet and aching for his rough touch in the mere minutes he left you. The chill of the house caused the hair on your arms to stick up but you ignored it, things would heat up in a few minutes. 

You wanted to smirk as you watched his eyes cloud with lust but you kept your face neutral. Michael was gone and your master stood in front of you. And his perfect, submissive fuck toy replaced you, designed and ready for whatever pain or pleasure he was generous enough to offer. And the growing ache between your thighs revealed a simple truth: you loved every single second of being his slut. 

Your eyes remained trained on the wood panels of the kitchen floor as he silently studied you. The minutes stretched on and on at an agonizing pace but you did not lift your head or move an inch. However, you could not stop the little sigh of relief that passed your lips when you finally saw his feet come into your line of vision. 

His hand wrapped around your throat, your mouth falling open with a small moan as he squeezed. It was not hard, just enough to let you know he was there. More, you wanted to beg. That was the problem, it did not matter what he did. You just wanted more of it and more of him. You were so addicted to the drug that was Michael, it felt like a lifetime supply would not even be enough. 

His hand forced your head upward so you were looking directly into his expressive brown eyes, your favorite part of him. This position could have had you cumming right then. 

All you could think about was how good it felt to have his hand squeezing your throat while you rode his dick. The mere memory made your pussy clench. But that was not in the cards for you… not yet anyway. 

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” He knew everything about his little fuck toy, exactly what his Princess wanted and needed. And there was not a man alive who knew it better. “Such an eager fuck toy for me. That’s why you were tryin’ on all those slutty clothes today? Think you’d get my attention and I’d come back here and fuck you like the attention-seeking whore you are?” He asked as he let go of your throat, much to your sadness, and started circling you. A predator sizing up his prey, indeed. 

You were not foolish enough to answer a single question he levied, they were rhetorical. 

“But I wasn’t the only man whose attention you got. Bet you loved that shit too… his hands on you fixing your outfits, complimenting you. Flirting with him, accepting his help right in front of your master. I should’ve fucked you right there in front of him to remind you that there’s only one man whose attention you should want.” 

The thought of that made your head spin. Him forcing you to your knees in the dressing room, fucking you from behind, claiming you and your body loudly for every person to hear. 

He gently put your collar around your neck, the fur lining made it more comfortable than it would have been otherwise. It was custom, Princess Y/N, embroidered on it. 

“Too tight?” he asked as he attached the leash to it. 

“No master,” you muttered. 

“Good.” 

He tugged on it, forcing you in step behind him. You bit back the moans this caused, him walking you around your living room and kitchen for a few minutes. He knew how much you loved to crawl behind him. It was clear he was trying to ramp you up as much as possible before the punishment truly started. And it was working perfectly. 

By the time you returned to the spot you started at in the kitchen, your knees in pain from the hardwood floor, your body was screaming for his touch. Your core felt painfully empty, you were desperate to feel him on you, inside you. He slid the blindfold over your eyes. 

You whimpered for a moment at the sudden loss of sight, sensory deprivation was a new game for you both and you were still getting used to it. 

“Say the word and the blindfold can come off, Princess,” he whispered. At your nods, he continued. “Face down, ass up. Legs spread. Don’t move a muscle.” 

You adjusted yourself to assume his favorite position. You hissed as your upper body laid against the cool kitchen floor but you made sure the arch in your back was perfect, your ass perched high in the air. Your legs were spread enough for him to see the glistening mess coating your inner thighs. 

“You disgustin’ cum slut. Crawlin’ like a whore made you that wet?” He degraded you, making your entire body shudder as his hands caressed your ass. 

“Yes daddy,” you breathed out, your brain already losing the ability to fully form words. The fog of pleasure was already heavy and he had not even started. “I-I’m sorry.” 

You tensed up sightly, knowing that when you least expected it, his caresses would turn into sharp blows that would make you cry out. However, just as quickly as he started touching you, he stopped. You could not feel his presence around you at all. You had not been given permission to move and you could not see him. You could not even sense where he was anymore. 

Had he left you there? Naked and unable to move like a statue? After a few moments, you heard soft footsteps not far away, causing you to exhale slightly. He was still hovering around. 

Minutes passed by, slower than you thought time could move, as he just left you there without  a single touch or word. But you followed directions, your legs would literally collapse before you moved a muscle. 

Your mind raced to understand why he was not punishing you. And after about 15 minutes of utter silence except for the sounds of him cooking, you longed for it. The sting of his palm, the fire of the flogger against your ass, your thighs, your back, literally anywhere at this point. But there was nothing. This was more of a punishment than the spanking. If you had been given permission to speak, you would have begged for your own torture at this point, would have begged for as many lashings as he felt you deserved for being such a shameless whore. But you could do nothing, nothing but sit with shaking legs in your disorienting haze of pleasure until he decided that you were worth even doling out a punishment on. 

It was clear to you why he chose that particular spot, a spot you knew was visible to him regardless of where he stood in the kitchen. You were on display. 

At that realization, you deepened the arch in your back to something you didn't even know was possible. You had to force yourself not to wiggle your ass in his face, entice him to light it on fire with his strength. 

“Couldn’t even last 15 minutes without daddy’s attention, could you?” You were not sure if you were allowed to answer. “You may speak, Princess.” 

“D-daddy pl-please…” you begged. 

“Didn’t seem to care about me earlier. Why should I give you attention now?” 

“B-Because… I need…” your words failed you. You needed so much in that moment. You needed the pain, you needed the pleasure it brought, you needed to be reminded what you were and whose you were. 

“You need what? Need me to make you cum? You’ll be grateful if I let you cum at all tonight. Need me to fuck you like the cumslut you are? Not sure you deserve my dick. Or you need me to remind you what happens to disobedient fuck toys who anger their masters? Need me to remind you who owns you?” 

“Y-Yes! P-Please… I d-deserve to be punished. I n-need it.” The words barely left your lips before you felt the first blow of the flogger against your ass. “T-Thank you,” you moan, savoring the sting and ache it left behind. 

However, you could not savor it long as he rained them down on every inch of your ass and thighs and a couple well-placed agonizing ones against your pussy that made you scream. You kept count, as was already required. 

“Keep your legs open, slut or I’ll add five more,” he demanded as your entire body convulsed as the flogger caught part of your clit. You forced your body to maintain the position, which took all your willpower. And to think, you begged for this. 

Tears were streaming down your face when he reached 29. That was the most he had ever done with the flogger as it was more painful than his hand and it was torture. However, you took it, the desire to use your safeword never coming to your mind. You would not be able to sit tomorrow but your entire body was on fire, hot, sweaty and desperate for him to fuck the shit out of you. 

When you finally said 30, you were proud of yourself for taking all of it like a champ. 

“That’s a good slut. You should see your ass right now,” he muttered. “So beautiful.” You could only imagine your entire body was completely red and you could feel a couple welts from where he punished you in the same spot over and over again. “You may sit up.” 

You whimpered as you stretched and moved out of your position, your muscles protesting. As you sat up, his hand cupped your cheek and wiped away the few falling tears. 

“Too much?” he asked quietly. 

“No sir. T-thank you for r-reminding me what I am,” you whisper. 

He helped you to your feet, your legs shaking slightly. 

“Let’s watch somethin’ on the tv. Short ribs are slow cookin’.”

Despite the pain in your body, you could not help but smile. This was what made the punishments worth it, this moment. You were happy he let you walk to the couch, giving you a chance to stretch your legs. You stood and watched, licking your lips as he stripped off his clothes before sitting down, his head dripping with pre-cum that made you want to sink to your knees and steal a taste. You licked your lips, longing clearly written on your face that made Michael want to chuckle. He knew how much his Princess loved servicing him on your knees. 

“Don’t even think about it. Worthless cunts who can’t remember who they belong to don’t get a taste. Why?” 

“Because servicing you is a reward and I don’t deserve a reward, daddy,” you mumbled quietly, your voice just as lost and pitiful as you felt. This was the point of punishment though because all you now wanted to do was assure him you were his perfect, obedient princess so you could be rewarded. 

“Good girl. Earn my forgiveness and maybe I’ll fuck that sweet mouth before bed tonight. Now for your punishment…” 

Your eyes grew wide. The last 30 minutes had not been the punishment?? 

Fuck my life. 

“Climb up here and sit on my dick. Facing the tv.” 

You practically catapulted onto his dick without hesitation. Not just because good girls did what they were told without hesitation but because this was your type of punishment. RIding his dick was your favorite pastime.

You slid down on his hard dick, moaning loudly as he filled you to the brim. It was not the orgasm your body desperately needed but it satisfied the overwhelming, blinding carnal need to be filled you felt. You immediately started rocking your hips to increase the friction and pleasure when a powerful and painful swat against your already bruised ass stopped your movements. 

“I didn’t tell your dumb ass to move. Seems like you keep forgetting I own you Princess. This pussy… this body… it’s all mine. And no one else gets to touch what’s mine, no one else controls what’s mine. So you’re gonna sit there on my dick and you’re not gonna move until I tell you to. When I tell you to ride my dick, you do it. When I tell you to stop, you fuckin’ stop. Understand?” 

“D-Daddy please?” you hoped your pleas for mercy and the soft puppy eyes you had on would be enough to soften his resolve. Of all the things he had forced you to do since walking in the house, this was the worst of them. To feel him inside you and be so close to bringing him the pleasure he deserved and you desperately needed but not be allowed to? 

Fuck my life. 

“You should be thankin’ me for even letting your worthless cunt warm my dick. Now sit there and watch the show,” he nodded toward the tv where an episode of both of your favorite anime was playing. 

You moaned and turned around, trying to keep your attention focused on the show in front of you. However, it was impossible. 

This was an utterly new sensation and, while it was torturous, you could not deny that it was pleasurable in its own way. 

Michael’s girth and length was something to be reckoned with and he knew how to use it. His dick perfectly curved into your g-spot and could have you cumming with a few strokes. As you sat on him, his hands occasionally wandered to caress your other pleasure zones. His strong hands massaged your inner thighs causing you to moan. 

You wondered if you could orgasm from just sitting there. You would not because you did not have permission but you wondered if it was possible. Because between his hands and the feel of him inside you, you could think of nothing else. You could feel every inch of him, his dick throbbing and pulsing like a heartbeat against your walls. 

Your body squirmed in his touch, your moans as he played with your body were consistent, particularly when he brushed against your clit. He offered a featherlike touch, it was barely there but you were so worked up, you felt every jolt of pleasure through your body magnified. 

Your pussy clenched around him as if silently begging him to move. But you knew he would not allow you to until he was ready. 

He worked up a rhythm against your clit, your movements becoming more uncontrolled, your breaths heavier. You weren’t gonna last long like this.

“Whose pussy is this, Princess?” 

“Yours, daddy. Only y-yours.” 

“Who can bring you pleasure like your master?” 

“N-No one. J-just you.” 

“Never forget that shit, understand?” 

You nodded fervently. Every punishment had a lesson and this one was etched into your brain matter as now was the feeling of every vein and inch of his dick. 

“I w-won’t! I promise, daddy.” 

He pressed a soft kiss to your bare back, increasing the speed of his fingers. “Cum on my dick, Princess.” 

With permission to cum, you stopped holding back and allowed your body to feel everything. Fuck his fingers knew exactly what buttons to push as your body finally got the pleasure it needed for the last hour. The build up was so fast you barely got to enjoy it but you did not care, you needed the crash, the fall to drown in the pleasure only he could provide. And when you reached the peak, you crashed hard. 

“You like that, baby? You gon’ cum for daddy?” 

“Y-Yes… fuck… t-thank you!” you cried out as you threw your head back as an explosion of pleasure took over every inch of your body. You felt pleasure down to the very cells that made up every part of you. 

You gasped as Michael’s hand wrapped around your long hair and gripped it, pulling you backward. He turned you so his mouth could claim yours, drowning out your moans and cries with a kiss so dominating you never wanted it to end. 

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, causing your heart to soar. “You’ve earned my forgiveness. Ride.” 

You did not need to hear anything else as you started to ride him with abandon, moaning every time his head rammed into your g-spot. You’d cum again before this was over but you made it your personal mission to ensure he did too. You pulled out every trick and play you had in the book until you felt his hands dig into your hips and he started ramming into you. 

You let him take control as he fucked you like a rag doll, ignorning the ache of your bruised ass and thighs as he slammed into them with every thrust upward. He kept you flush to his chest with one hand wrapped tight around your neck, the gentleness of his choking earlier long gone. 

“Where you want it?” he demanded as you felt the signs of him about to cum. 

“Cum inside me, please!” you begged. Michael knew you had a bit of a breeding kink, loving the feeling of him filling you with his cum. That was often another punishment when he would cum on you instead of inside you. Not that him marking his territory was really a punishment. 

“Want me to fill this sweet cunt, baby??” 

“Yes! Please, please!” you begged as he fucked you so hard you felt as if you would be seeing stars for hours. 

You could not stop your body from convulsing as you felt the warmth of his cum surge inside you, you clenched around him. 

Your legs burned as you used your arms, braced on his knees to stop your upper body from toppling forward. He rubbed soothing patterns along your spine to calm you. Michael pushed you to your limit every time but he also knew how to take care of you afterward. 

He lifted you off of him, a slight whimper escaping your lips at the emptiness you suddenly felt. He only sat you down long enough to stand up himself and you were quickly back in his arms, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he carried you up to your master suite. 

He laid you on the bed and got some soothing lotion and started massaging it everywhere the flogger hit you. You shuddered at the cool feeling but it felt heavenly combating the stinging you still felt and soreness you knew you would still feel tomorrow. 

“You did so good for me, Princess,” he offered, your sweet Michael clearly having returned to you. 

That was all you needed to hear, that you had pleased him. 

“Thank you.” Your gratitude was muffled against the comforter of your shared bed. After a few moments of silence, you sat up and glanced back at him. “You know you’re it for me, right? Don’t have eyes for anyone else.” 

“Yea I know… sometimes I just worry…” his voice trailed off. 

You ignored the ache to shift over to him and straddle his waist, his hands resting on your hips. “You’re always reassuring me, sometimes I forget you need that too. You are the greatest thing that ever happened to me. It’s you and me till the end of the line, babe.” You teasingly peppered his face with kisses until he finally smiled and started laughing. 

“You and me, baby.” 

“But anytime you wanna get a little jealous and possessive and it leads to that? Feel free,” you joked, the scene still dominating every space in your mind. At your words, you suddenly became hyper aware of his member pressed against your core and instinctively started grinding on top of him. 

“Princess,” he growled. “This time ain’t about me,” he reminded her. Aftercare was about you and he was committed to it. 

“How much time do we have till dinner?” 

“Two hours.” 

“Enough time for you to teach me my lesson again and then take care of me. Don’t think it quite stuck,” you shrugged nonchalantly, taking on your bratty persona to rile him up. 

You shrieked as he flipped you over onto your back and stood up. Master was back and he was ready to make the most of those two hours.

***

A/N: Thanks for reading!! My requests are open if you have more asks/requests… just know that it takes me a while lol

Drop a comment and let me know what you thought :)

[modern-vellichor]

hi! i’d love it if you could write adrian chase/vigilante x reader(fem or gn if you prefer!) where they are quite hard faced and irritable with the other members of 11th Street Kids, but with Adrian they are quite soft and show they actually care for him, laugh at his awkwardness etc. basically a different person than the way they are with the others. ty!

im so good to y'all. i have genuinely no idea when this was sent to me but I'm back baby.

masterlist // send a request

"Fuck off," you said to Peacemaker.

Waller had promised that this was your last job. And you made sure she meant it. This was nothing more than community service. You did as little as possible with these shitheads. You sat in a van with Economos during missions, you never said a word unless absolutely necessary. You avoided Murn like the plague. You never accepted Harcourt's invitations to drinks. You always rejected Peacemaker's various advances (it's not like you would say yes in any other situation.) Even Adebayo, who was the most tolerable on the squad, always found a way to get on your nerves, usually with unwanted (but not unhelpful) advice. In spite of this, there was one person who just made your heart melt.

Sweet little Vigilante. So stupid, so blind and deaf and dumb. So sweet. Sure, he was a bit dopey. He had no brain-to-mouth filter whatsoever. He was extremely violent. He was a bit creepy. But you had a soft spot for him. There was something about his puppy dog eyes, or his dumbstruck smile that turned you into a gushy, weeping, puddle. He was just plain neat.

The others noticed, of course they did. You turned into this sweet, gushing mess around the idiot. You placed gentle hands on his cheeks, you listened to his god awful rants with a soft smile, you helped him with whatever he wanted.

Adrian didn't notice, obvious. He was oblivious to your gentleness towards him. In his heart, he knew he loved you but you were so scary. You were so mean to all the other agents, even Peacemaker! Despite this he tailed after you like a lost puppy, or an imprinted duckling. And you let him. If he ever gained the nerve to reach out to caress your arm, or your hand, or if he ever reached for your knives or your guns, you didn't push him away like you would have anyone else.

Maybe one day he'd realize how soft you truly were, maybe he'd ask you out. But for now, he'd secretly admire you, even blood-soaked, battered and beaten, and pretend you were nothing more than a favoured coworker.

[tanoraqui]

Having just read/reread 2/3 of the serieses, the most interesting side character in the assorted Percy Jackson books is definitely Chiron. Explicitly or very clearly implicitly canonical facts about PJO!Chiron:

Obviously, Chiron is the metaphorical heart of Camp Half Blood, and the one actually in charge of it regardless of whoever the gods appoint as Camp Director. He’s the best parent a lot of these kids ever have. If Chiron isn’t at Camp, something is wrong, either at Camp or something is so wrong elsewhere that he’s off dealing with it. If Chiron goes down in a fight, it is quite literally time to Panic.

He was blessed/cursed by the gods with immortal life “so long as there are heroes to train.”

Because demigod lives are the way they are, this has trapped him in an endless grieving cycle of training young people just enough to survive for a little longer before they’re killed. Enough to die heroically at age 15 rather than desperately at age 12, like.

His unhappiness with this mostly comes out in vague allusions to the fact that you will probably die on this quest, which he refuses to elaborate on, instead forcing a smile back into his face and handing you a first aid kit for the road.

Because of this? he never goes to Olympus unless explicitly summoned. This isn’t something that’s been barred to him, it’s a matter of principle.

Because of all this? the gods immediately scapegoat him for tree!Thalia’s poisoning, despite the fact that literally half of them are also Kronos’s children.

Despite all this, there is absolutely no indication that any villain ever attempts to suborn Chiron by offering him, and/or the youths under his care, a better deal. Presumably because they know he’d tell them (politely) to fuck right off.

Grieve though he does, care deeply for every child who comes under his care though he does, he is never (outright) cynical nor does he hesitate to embrace the mythological genre and role he’s in. He trains, guides, and guards where he can…and he encourages them to be heroes, risky though that is. The second it might be safe, he helps Rachel attempt to become the new Oracle, even though the last person to try went mad. He takes a dozen kids who came to Camp Half-Blood for the first time 2 weeks ago into potentially deadly battle to save NYC, as a “field trip.”

Chiron is as good at archery as Apollo at his best (Apollo admits this, privately). I don’t think we ever see him shoot an arrow that’s not a successful kill shot.

In about 36 hours, Chiron can raise a small army of wild centaurs from any or all herds throughout North America. There is no indication that centaurs will regularly listen to anyone else.

He’s an honorary member of the ruling council of satyrs.

Chiron periodically coordinates with hero-trainers from other mythologies to avert truly world-shattering disasters. He does not seem to regard this as the gods’ business.

He likes Dean Martin.

Truly the epitome of that one good teacher who genuinely understands and supports you as best they can while dealing with an unhelpful and often unfriendly school administration, whom you eventually realize is somehow even cooler in their non-school life!

[roseamongroses]

rattling around in there

Shuri/Riri Williams [cave scene nonsense] [stuck together] [Recovery] [there is more then one bed and yet here they are sharing a bed] [sleepy time gays series] Summary: Shuri and Riri are imprisoned. They take it as seriously as you expect. - SHURIRIWEEK2024 - day five - "canon compliant" - prompt: stuck together, stranger - ao3 @shuririweek

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

A halo of dim light softly lit Shuri’s disheveled curls-- eyes tired and slightly puffy as she peered down. 

Riri groaned, still out of it 

Falling out of the sky and eating pavement did a number on them.  For the past ten minutes of consciousness, she’d been staring up at Shuri’s face, dazed and unconvinced. 

Wearily, Riri reached towards them, “You…can’t be real,” she said, voice hoarse. It's hard to believe she made it to any sort of after-life. 

“I’m relatively certain I am, “ Shuri said, vaguely amused. She clasped Riri’s hand, lightly, guiding it to press against her admittedly very real, pretty face. 

Riri’s face furrowed, fog slowly clearing as she looked between her hand and Shuri.

 Then--she realized.

Her eyes shot wide, “Ohhh--” she snatched back her hand, embarrassed, “Shit, sorry.” She sat up, quick--a mistake. 

Riri’s back seized, sending her right back down. 

“Careful- '' Shuri crouched down, easing Riri back into the hammock. 

Riri let out a shuddering breath, gripping the sides of the hammock as she waited for the pain to quiet down. Staring at the fabric, her brain faltered. She glanced around, slowly piecing together her surroundings. 

“Uh…Princess…?” Riri craned her head, catching a look. Cave walls--guards--and--

It reeked of fish. 

“Where are we…?”

Shuri opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, “If I tell you…” she trailed off, uncertain. 

Riri’s eyebrows flew up, “If?” she echoed, anxiety building, “ The fuck you mean if--” 

“Don’t panic--” 

Too late for that. 

“Princess…” Riri said, voice low, jaw clenched,  “Love the whole calm, collected shtct--it's cute.  But do not tell me to-” 

“You think I’m cute?” Shuri interrupted, sending Riri a wide, guileless smile. 

“-To- to--” Riri blinked hard, but powered through, “That’s not what said,” she managed with a huff, looking away, “Where are we?”

Shuri sighed, expression dropping. She sat down on a crate near the hammock, giving Riri a sidelong glance, “Alright, but you have to stay put,” she bargained, “I can only play nurse for so long,” 

-

Riri bit her lip, voice shaking,  “How can someone so smart-”

Shuri groaned, “Please don’t start.”

“How can I not start? You-” Riri held her stomach tight, shoulders shaking as she tried to bite down on her laughter. 

“Y’know, “ Shuri looked on unimpressed, “You’re only alive because of me,” she muttered. 

“Psh--Please-- you,” Riri clutched the edge of the hammock, fighting another fit of giggles,  “-you led them right to me-”

Shuri leaned back “I nursed you back to health--” she continued, “I--a stranger at your bedside--”

“Who’s getting their ass beat by a clapping-game--” 

“You can’t lose a clapping game,” Shuri insisted, hands flying up in defense. 

“Says the loser, losing.” 

Shuri flipped her off. 

-

“So,” Riri started,  finally managing to sit up by herself without pain. 

“So…?” Shuri looked up warily. 

It had become clear quickly that there was no end to Riri’s genius. Meaning she had a never-ending flow of thoughts. All of which ranged from genuinely fascinating to disturbingly morbid. She had to voice every single one of them. 

Riri’s legs swung idly, lips pursed,  “What exactly, is Namor,” she asked, “No offense, but Is he like-”

“Riri,” Shuri warned, discreetly looking back at the guards. 

“What?’ Riri rolled her eyes, “He can lock up the Black youth, but I can’t ask if he’s built like Barnacle Boy?” 

Shuri buried her face into her hands. 

-

Shuri looked away,“Don’t.” she muttered, fiddling with the bracelet. 

She had just returned from a decidedly, unhelpful negotiation process and didn’t want to hear it. 

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say,” Riri said, head tilting to take it all in. 

“Do I need to? You’re making a face.”

“I’m not making a face, “ Riri protested, her eyes darting  away, “It’s just…”

“Diplomacy. It’s a part of the process,” Shuri sighed, “Wear the clothes, respect the culture, hope they don’t kill us.” 

Riri looked doubtful, “And the bracelet?” 

She  definately wasn’t wearing that when she left. 

Shuri froze, hand dropping, “It was his mother’s,” she quietly admits. 

Riri’s eyebrows shot up to her scalp, “His mother?” she hissed, “As in his mom? His Ma--Oh hell no,” she flopped back down, expression bleak, “I’mma die,” She whispered, gaping at the ceiling,  “-- and you gon help kill me-” 

Shuri stepped forward, “ I promised to get you out of here and I meant it-”

“And yet here you are,” Riri’s voice shook, hand waving in her direction, “-getting wifed up,”

“Wifed up-?” Shuri blanched, “What are you talking about?” 

“Y’all up there negotiating for marriage apparently, “

Shuri stared at her dumbfounded, “Maybe…you should sleep,” she suggested. 

“What?” Riri kept going, “ No-no. No man gives away his mom’s jewelry for no rea-”

Shuri nodded, deciding for the both of them, “We should sleep,” she corrected herself, walking towards the hammock. 

“He must want something--oof,”

Shuri dropped on top of her, the hammock swaying. 

Riri flailed, voice muffled “Off-get off- I’m not even tired-” 

“But I am,” Shuri said, wrapping her arms around them. 

“You have your own bed--” Riri complained into Shuri’s shoulder, breath tickling their skin. 

Shuri closed her eyes, speaking slowly,  “If I don’t suffocate you,” she said,  “You will keep me up with all your mumbling and anxiety. This is easier-”

[magnuscomedybracket]

Quarterfinals Match 3

034 Anatomy Class vs. 131 Flesh

Propaganda under the cut!

034 Anatomy Class

The delivery. The teacher going crazy because students asking questions.

#fear beings who want to know more about the human body and decide to go to college about it (via @/the-goose-caboose)

#all those “students” had like. sneak 100 surely their behavior was completely unsuspicious lmao #and at the end theyre genuinely just like “hey thanks for teaching us about the insides” and the teacher's just completely traumatized (via @/silverywillowtree)

131 Flesh

so the episode starts with jonathan IDIOT sims of the FUCKERY INSTITUTE deciding you know... to get into the torture coffin i need to have a connection up here on the surface so i can find my way out... so, obviously, youre like awwwhh is this the moment he realizes he needs martin and saves him from the lonelt❤️❤️❤️ does he have a heartwarming connection w his coworkers and realize he needs his friends and cant just do everything alone❤️❤️❤️ and then that fool, that absolute bastard, that CIRCUS of a MAN goes. i nees physical pain AND THEN TRIES TO CHOP HIS FINGER OFF FOR FIVE MINUTES WHILE THE EYES GOIN hey ! hey stop ! hey ahahhaha stop what are you doing hey ahahah you need your finger hey stop doing that !! and regeneratjng his finger and then goes damn this wont work... IM GOING TO REMOVE ONE OF MY RIBS ! :D and then he goes to find JARED BONETURNER HOPWORTJ who yk has KILLED PEOPLE which helen just had IN HER DOORS, YK, FOR FUNZIEZ !! ands like heeey can u remove my rib bbggg hahahahaha ;] and even JAREDS like what the Fuck. then sure ! if u let me out of the DOORS ! then jons like hey btw :3 can i have ur statement :3 and jareds like yah sure if u give me another rib, and jon, jonathan fucking sims. AGREES ! that is like the equivalent of tradinf a rib for a burrito. so jared gives jon his statement and. SURPRISE ! its shit and unhelpful. and now jon has two less ribs, THEN jareds likd yoooo ur rib feels weird as hell and then helen promptly dumps jared into the nearest river. and rhe entire timd tou cannot make out SHIT of what jareds saying i wouldnt be surprised if you told me that guy was speaking in TONGUES. but oh wait ! it gets better ! elias fuckdd up and thd apocalypse wouldve at LEAST been delayed if jon DIDNT take his ribs out. BUT OH WAIT ! IT GETS EVEN BETTER ! later in the gardner jareds like hey ur ribs weird take it back i dont want if anymore it feels weird and then jon fucking smitss him [why the fuck does his rib feel weird btw..does hd have rib eyes? would that mean hd has eyes on all his bones? organs too??? id likd to think so.] *bows* thank you ! thank you !

#flesh is so funny I love melanie in that episode #she’s so pissed off and done with jon #idiot can’t even cut off his finger right :/ god jon you useless piece of shit come with me I know a guy (via @/backslashmagpie)

[eonars]

Was undecided yesterday if I wanted to have a lil wfh Wednesday but then the train ride home and the station were so crowded and I got bumped into so many times and people were just stopping right in front of me that I got home and cried soooooo. wfh Wednesday it was but I actually got sooooo much done on my start seminar presentation that I'm supposed to do in exactly one week. The only thing is it's meant to be 20 minutes and I'm maxing out at like 14 tops, my supervisors been extremely unhelpful and I know exactly what's lacking but like.....don't have the info. Also so much of my project is just trying to do stuff and establish protocols that haven't been done or established in fish before so I'm just kind of freestyling the whole thing and don't know what I'm dooooooiiiinggggg. I'm also kind of preemptively freaking out over being sent to France for training for 3 months straight next year cause I don't want to man I'm just starting to make friends and establish myself here like I don't wanna go away 😪😓🥺 also I think I'm being actual for real ghosted this time and I'm so tired man like it's never gone any other way for me it always goes like this and I never know why and I never know what I can do differently. I guess a rational part of me realizes it's a bit unrealistic to expect every single part of my life to suddenly be fixed in 3 months but all told in these like 3.5ish months I've actually basically done that like I've become financially independent I live alone I have irl friends that I'm getting super close with I walk 5 miles a day I cook most nights I take care of my skin I keep the place spotless I'm genuinely very happy every day I talk and laugh with my buddies get home eat something sleep mad early wake up mad early why won't this one fucking thing also get fixed (spoiler alert it's prob due to being like 9 feet tall and a really unfortunately built troll bodied uggo)

[mayra-quijotescx]

I'm not going to run around lecturing people who were never going to vote regardless, and I'm sure as hell not going to criticize people who have already been summarily abandoned by both parties, but I think the 'I'm not going to vote because maybe we deserve to suffer' attitude specifically that I've seen some people express comes from the same place as 'I'm not going to take any COVID precautions because I personally accept the risk of getting it again'.

For the top-of-ticket voting, neither option is great, but one will be objectively much worse for the majority of those not already equally fucked over by both parties. Maybe the people making the 'we deserve to suffer' argument can find some kind of secular Calvinist virtue in opting into suffering because of how our government makes others suffer, but children and teenagers forced to carry a baby to term didn't agree to that. People forced to live as second-class citizens because of a bullshit felony on their records didn't agree to that. None of the people living in other countries who are still negatively affected by US policies agreed to that, your increased suffering as a US citizen in the US doesn't actually do anything for them, and it's profoundly self-possessed and insulting to them to think it would. Sitting out an action in the explicit hopes of your community's conditions deteriorating because another community is suffering is, at best, a warped and unhelpful interpretation of solidarity, if not its opposite. (I've even seen some people sincerely arguing that things need to get worse so The People(TM) will rise up and throw off their chains in The Revolution(TM), and I don't know how to tell people who don't even talk to their neighbors that an increase in ambient suffering is not an adequate substitute for political education and organizing.)

Just like with COVID: a lot of people have personally accepted the risks of just getting sick all the time until they die untimely of complications, but the waiter who can't afford a single sick day didn't agree to that. The cashier whose boss will fire them if they wear a mask in an economy where it's nearly impossible to 'just get another job' didn't agree to that. And the people who previously accepted all risks and then wound up severely disabled or dead didn't realize until it was too late what exactly they were agreeing to, and I do genuinely hate that for them. I also don't know if a conversation on solidarity can be had with someone who thinks of others so little that they won't cover their face running errands or going out (at someone else's workplace) because 'well, I'm fine with it, if I die I die.'

[rosinasnoot]

One of the first things new friends tell me (and one of the most common compliments I get from existing friends) is “Dude, you’re smart. Like really smart.”

(I promise this is important context, bear with me.)

In most situations, I am really quick to understand things. I’ve been classified as a gifted kid since third grade (8-9 years old), and I’m the person that other people flock to for help (even in college!) because I know how to explain things. We learn something in class and ten minutes later I can turn around and explain it to the people who need another way of looking at it to really understand. And I’m happy to! I love helping people understand things; I spent my summer as a calculus tutor and would choose tutoring 100% of the time if I needed money during school (and I only don’t need it because of a huge merit scholarship I have that I got for crazy good test scores).

So every once in a while, someone will absolutely lose their mind (with anger) over something I did. I suspect that this is because, consciously or not, they’re thinking “How in the hell could someone this smart be so fucking stupid? There’s absolutely no way she’s not at least a tiny bit aware of how her actions are affecting [speaker/their loved one(s)].”

I hate that you had to find out like this, but I really am that oblivious sometimes. I thought I was being helpful, I had no idea that what I did was “shutting [person] down, so sharply and completely that we didn’t say anything because we were absolutely floored” and not “helpfully moving the conversation along because [reason].” ([reason] ranges from “we have limited time for this and their idea isn’t helpful for the reasons I listed” to “I thought [person I stopped] was being actively unhelpful and I could do it better.” No I wasn’t aware in the moment that there were better ways to handle these situations, thanks for asking.)

No, I really couldn’t tell that [behavior] was being perceived as “disrespectful and rude.” I genuinely didn’t have a single clue that [person] was upset with me for it, not even the tiniest suspicion. I would have apologized and stopped doing it if I had known. I want to believe that I would have asked about it if I had even remotely suspected.

I knew that I should have done [thing], but I didn’t realize it was such a big deal and I psyched myself out because I thought I had a close-to-acceptable reason not to and the idea of doing it made me really nervous. I genuinely couldn’t tell that [person] felt slighted/offended when I didn’t do it. If I’d known it was that important I would have just done it. (I think I should have anyway. I’ll try to be better about that.)

I was genuinely completely unaware of the harm I was causing. Even though I feel really shitty about it now that you’ve told me. Even though I probably would have felt similarly upset if the roles were reversed in any of those situations.

I’m not as self-aware as I seem, and I’m not anywhere near as socially competent as you assumed from how quickly I understand everything else. I wish there was a way for other people to understand how deeply oblivious I can be without needing to see it for themselves. You didn’t totally believe me when I told you about a time this happened because you love(d) me, but I wish you had because this is not a “making it sound worse than it was because of low self esteem” issue, I really am like that sometimes and neither of us will see it coming.

[redwinesupernova]

I want to drive like ten hours straight to beat up those fucking bigots for you oh my god how did no one beat their asses FIVE?!?!! FIVE…!!!! oh my fucking god that’s actually insane like genuinely. IN A SOCRATIC SEMINAR?????????? Charlie I’m so sorry you have to deal with that shit because that kind of behavior warrants like a talk with some kind of authority figure like WHAT DO YOU MEAN you don’t see black people as full realized humans!! HUH!!! sorry I’m just really mad about this because you are my friend and truly don’t deserve dealing with this kind of horrible shit

i love you forever. i cant really go to anyone about it because every member of my schools administration is either white or deeply unhelpful but i’m just ⁉️⁉️⁉️ i just have to keep going to school with these people and act like they didnt say the most batshit things i have ever heard in my life 😭😭😭

[averyhollow]

@bromelads is amazing. I can’t say enough in praise of the kindness, patience, love, good will, and thought that are going into this conversation and spreadsheet; and I hope it’s genuinely appreciated by those it’s in reply to.

I think my main takeaway is that I have no common ground with a lot of people who consider themselves “Izzy critical” or anti-Izzy, and can’t say I think we care about the same things. I think that’s a good realization for me to come to and one that’ll hopefully make it so much easier for me to focus on letting what I see as inflexible assertions stemming from respectability politics and/or paternalistic racism, float on by.

Looking through the responses from “Izzy critical”, and feeling the comments so far are reaffirming positions I believe flatten BIPOC characters due to their inflexibility; and that I think are prevalent not only out of a desire to center the voices of BIPOC, but out of a desire to have a Right Answer that’s coupled with bias towards certain characters and ships.

The more I look at the arguments being made, the more I see them as the liberal/leftist counterparts to socially conservative justifications for excluding BIPOC from certain roles; or (likely unintentional) smokescreens for infantilization, sanitization, respectability politics, and dehumanization (e.g., the idea that interpreting Ed as having “anger issues” is a microagression in and of itself has some pretty fucked up implications to me). It’s not the differences in opinions and interpretations themselves that are the problem for me. It’s the insistence on making blanket statements about which ones do, or don’t, inherently reflect racist bias or reinforce racist narratives.

I think there are a number of reasons most of the headcanon and interpretations discussed should leave room for agreement to disagree that don’t involve calling the interpretations in question microaggressions in and of themselves. But that space so often isn’t there. I feel like it’s not conversation at this point. I’m not sure I can even envision what my ideal recommendations for actionable items might be in the current environment, since I think the ship has sailed on suggestions like:

maybe don’t respond to individual fanworks, but instead comment on trends and issues you notice in your own space, and tag in a way that’s easy to find for those willing to look

if responding to something/someone directly, approach with the intent of getting your perspective and counterarguments understood, and not with the intent of getting them agreed with

if responding to someone directly, keep the same energy you would for the cast, crew, and creators of the show when/if they make similar points

consider if something happened onscreen that didn’t sit right with you and you’re making authoritative claims about how it’s meant to be interpreted in order to square your love of the show with something you find problematic, and consider how your relationship to the show might change if you’re wrong about the intent

ask people about their specific reasoning for an interpretation instead of making blanket denouncements of certain interpretations

don’t outsource responsibility for your personal views to some mythical monolithic BIPOC community

if you’re white, ask yourself if you engage with and hype up the opinions and meta of BIPOC whose interpretations you don’t agree with entirely, or at all. If not, why?

if you’re white, are you about to say something that you’re willing to stand by and defend regardless of the race of who you’re replying to or if contradicting opinions from BIPOC are presented? Or are you going to bounce the moment you’re openly confronted with a situation where no matter what position you espouse, you’re gonna have to take responsibility for holding a position BIPOC disagree with and are made uncomfortable by?

or any number of other ideas I have that are rooted in an opinion that it’s unhelpful and tokenizing to make blanket statements intended to spin objective truths from subjective material.

So I think all I can, or want, to do at this point is focus on my own engagement patterns and work on being more considerate about when and how I engage in, and disengage from, arguments. Will also continue to vent frustrations with other BIPOC who love my grumpy gremlin, are neutral about him, or otherwise find themselves exhausted, frustrated, or erased by posts advising that EdIzzy is an inherently racist and abusive ship, or that the ship name BlackBonnet is offensive to Black fans.

[vapidfirefly]

SOIL SCIENCE AND PEOPLE WHO KNOW WHAT THEYRE DOING

Genuinely listening to a soil scientist or master horticulturalist ramble about literally any topic always results in a massive density of information. So many plant-tubers and tik tokers can give you tips, they may even have plants that thrive, but they can't exactly tell you -why-

"I use this product and it works! go buy it!"

Well why does it work? Is it tested and certified? do you know if this is a Fertilizer? a soil conditioner? does it work with organic systems?? Are there papers backing it up at all???

"I dunno! use my affiliate link!!"

and everyone has such wildly different home environments and climates and windows sizes that just saying "do x" without having a deep understanding of the conditions present means!! A-lot!! and houseplants don't have to be complicated but a lot of people fail at having a green thumb because nothing is explained properly. Some people do extremely well and don't realize it's mostly because they have large unobstructed windows whereas the person struggling is dealing with a north facing window covered by buildings and tree's and thinking their friend just grows em better and gets discouraged.

Listen to someone who studies this or does it professionally and they can give you broadly helpful tips backed by science with measurable improvements to back it up, rather than the SEA of AI written or regurgitated information. If you ask how to take care of a plant to google, you have to DIG to find relevant, helpful, GOOD info that isn't just spewed from the mouths of people shooting in the dark and having success.

"place plant in indirect light, fast draining soil, let it dry out before watering" - houseplant tips dreamed up by the utterly deranged, incurious, and actively unhelpful to anyone and harmful for beginners!! THEY HAVE PLAYED US FOR ABSOLUTE FOOLS!

My 'indirect light' Monstera can sit in sunlight all damn day AND THEY GROW IN FULL SUNLIGHT IN THE WILD!! Why then, does everyone think they can thrive in a semi dim corner of your house?? Why are you telling me my Hoya Kerii, a semi succulent that needs tons of full sun to thrive will do just fine getting like, 1 or two hours of it. It will not grow! It may even lose leaves and suffer!! (That hoya has thrown tantrums for months and I thought I was to blame!!)

I didn't know what VPD was! I didn't know the real difference between organic and synthetic fertilizers or what nutrient cycling was! I didn't know the benefits of algae growth in your soil and the indicators of a healthy micro-biome! WHATS HUMIC ACID, WOW LOOK AT THE SCIENCE BACKING UP HOW FUCKING HELPFUL IT IS! So much info shoved aside in favor of 'quick plant hacks' that barely contribute anything to your actual development of understanding how to make your Rare tropicals and indoor garden thrive!!

GO WATCH THE CHANNEL "GARDENING IN CANADA" AND BE AMAZED AT WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU LISTEN TO SOMEONE WHO ACTUALLY KNOWS WHAT THEYRE DOING!! Some of their vids only have like, 3k views and they were more helpful in understanding and diagnosing issues I had than people posting full ass houseplant guides

[shingekinomyfeelings]

tw for body issues, body dysmorphic disorder, and mental health struggles. no I will not tag it.

A recent conversation on Reddit has me thinking a lot about my struggles with body dysmorphic disorder over the bulk of my life, and if (or how) it ever really goes away.

Of course society's beauty standards are unfair and unhealthy and frankly impossible for most people. We all know that. Of course no one needs to strive to meet those bonkers standards, and it's stupid to pretend that beauty = super model and that anything less than super model = ugly. Of course even people who aren't aesthetically pleasant to look at still have human value and worth.

And yes, reframing the way you see yourself and others can change your feelings about yourself over time, in good ways and bad.

Yeah. I know that.

But I've also come to realize that the trend in recent years of 'positivity culture' saying that you have to pretend you think you're beautiful even if you don't, or else you're failing in some way, is incredibly unfair and unhelpful, too.

"Don't talk about the body dysmorphia or you're just letting it win" isn't realistic or helpful, any more than similar sentiments are for any mental health struggle.

If you've felt the waves of anxiety and nausea when you see yourself in photos, it's not a moral failing or a sign of your weakness or lack of resilience, and neither is making progress in your struggle but not fully 'overcoming' it. It's a shitty battle I wish no one had to go through, but I'd like to see it be more acceptable to talk frankly about without it being made into a matter of shallowness or vanity or that infuriating, condescending accusation of 'wallowing in self pity.'

Putting someone down for struggling with BDD just compounds the problem, and keeping your struggles a secret in the name of 'positivity' is painful in ways it's hard to put into words.

There's also a massive difference between 'I wish I looked perfect!' and 'I wish I didn't feel so deeply ugly.'

Is it okay for me to admit that I'm not fully past it, and that sometimes it still makes my stomach twist up, and that I might never be fully past it, without being seen as a negative person? Can I admit that I've seriously considered cosmetic surgery without being seen as letting the pain 'win?' Can I say I wish I could look at myself and genuinely think 'beautiful' or 'sexy' without being seen as self absorbed, shallow, or vain? What good am I doing myself by pretending those things aren't true when they are? Can I just admit it it still really fucking hurts now and then?

We're so pro mental health, as long as we don't have to hear about it in ways we can't personally relate to, or ways that make us uncomfortable.

[rottenbrainstuff]

BG3 playthrough: picking up where I left off in the shadowlands

I survived my overseas trip and a busy holiday so now I’m getting back into the swing of my Baldur’s Gate 3 playthrough, and as usual, taking a fucking long-ass time to get anything done. Let’s see, let’s see here. Here’s just a few random notes. I’m currently still farting around in the shadow-cursed land, experimenting with what order is best to do things in so as to trigger everything you want. Did you guys all check out the advent calendar that Larian had running in December? That was cute!

While I was overseas I was watching my daughter play her own game a bit… I told her the orthon fight was the most difficult fight I did yet, when I was scouting ahead and looking around at things coming up. I managed to kill Yurgir, but the minions almost TPKd my ass. I had to run away. Probably every time I play, I will always do one of the non-fight options to deal with him. She said, “hm” and gave it a try. Instead of talking to Yurgir at all, she made Astarion invisible, snuck him in, and got a critical on a sneak attack which got him in one single fucking round, and made short work of everyone else. Well. I guess that works, too.

Araj Oblodra note: if you are a drow, you can realize that her house was notorious for experimention with mind flayers, and that’s likely what has polluted her blood: gross.

One more time: YOU DO NOT NEED TO WORRY ABOUT ASTARION’S APPROVAL LEVELS (or anyone’s, for that matter) The game is full of more than enough approval opportunities. Don’t whine about Astarion being hard to romance, don’t make bad choices just to make him like you, just play the way you want and whatever companion you like, you’ll get there in the end, I promise. The approvals and disapprovals are interesting and add really cool flavour to think about, don’t meta game it, just play your game and take note of who likes/dislikes what and have fun thinking about why that is.

Tumeril is a harper at the entrance to the Last Light Inn, and he used to wear a dog collar, like, the exact same dog collar that I found in the underdark. In the latest updates, the dog collar is gone! That makes me sad, because I thought the collar was funny. :( The game is ok to have a dude in a bondage harness beat you up then tell you it was DIVINE, but too shy to have a harper wearing a dog collar.

A note about Astarion’s second romance scene: there are two versions of the scene, and one is easy to trigger and one is much more convoluted. You can trigger one version of his second romance just by talking to Araj Oblodra in Moonrise. If you tell her to leave Astarion alone, after you rest, he’ll have a second romance scene where he thanks you for letting him decide, and the scene is about him revealing how little bodily autonomy he had in the past, and much more about how he doesn’t want people to only relate to him sexually, in fact he maybe doesn’t want that at all. It’s an ok scene. It’s some good character development.

But I just don’t prefer it over the second version of his romance. The second version is the one that starts with “we need to talk”, and it is much more about Astarion admitting that he initially came on to you with ulterior motives, but now he’s caught genuine feelings and doesn’t know how to proceed. I prefer it because it’s more vulnerable, it’s less about just him and more about your relationship, and kind of just fits in better with the sort of narrative I’m doing with my tav. It’s also more unclear as to exactly how to trigger it. I looked and looked and looked everywhere trying to find some solid, reliable information, but in true bullshit modern internet fashion, it’s very difficult to find. Instead there’s a lot of supremely unhelpful unverified speculation. (Ie it’s based on approval, just keep camping and eventually it will trigger, it will trigger if you camp at Moonrise, it will trigger after you kill the orthon, NO NO NO, these are all incorrect or incomplete) If anyone else has TESTED AND CONFIRMED a different way they were able to trigger it, I would love to hear it. But on my end, the only way I was able to trigger it was by: 1) killing the orthon 2) talking to Raphael afterwards and getting the information about Astarion’s scars, and then lastly: 3) camping at moonrise towers. These three things in this order. That was the only way I could get it. There might be an easier way but at the very least I can confirm this will trigger it every time. It’s very important to get SOME version of this while you’re still in act 2. Unfortunate players who never got around to it will find a sudden and upsetting breakup scene if they accidentally progress to act 3.

The tiefling prison break seems to have two different outcomes as well - sometimes during the breakout, the warden will leave her office and rush towards the prisoners and fight them at the boat, and sometimes the warden stays where she is and remains unaggroed, and you can go back and talk to her later and she will say that because the prisoners escaped under her watch, she is dead. (literally) I haven’t figured out what causes one or the other to happen (I have literally reloaded the exact same save and had different outcomes, almost like it’s random, or perhaps a bug?) and honestly… I’m kind of too tired to try and figure it out - but two outcomes exist, so watch your back as the prisoners are escaping and be prepared for a fight just in case the warden is following you.

My party all leveled up, and instead of doing something actually useful, I made the executive decision to give Astarion one level of bard. I did this 100% only because I want someone for my tav to be able to duet with cause then the music sounds better, and because it’s funny listening to Astarion do vicious mockery (which he can never actually hit with, because his charisma is way too low). I don’t really care that it wasn’t the most useful choice. I am playing the game according to what I find fun, and the fights are only one single part of it for me. I have decided Astarion used to play the violin back when he was still alive, and Cazador forbade him from playing. After traveling around with my bard he’s cautiously decided to pick the violin back up.

So the prisoners are free! So sweet to see them reunite. The kids are still sad cause Mol is still nowhere to be found. Barcus and Wulbren made me pretty sad though. They really animated Barcus well in their reunion scene. His sad little smiles and arm swings as he tries not to show his crushing disappointment hurt my heart. Aw my buddy. You can do so much better than this guy. Sigh.

Z’rell is uh. Wow. She is parting the folds of my mind and touching and tasting is she??? Uh. I. 😳🥵

With the prisoners free I’m exploring around now…. Not sure if I should explore the rest of Moonrise, or explore the rest of the Shadowlands, maybe do Halsin’s weird little side curse thing... I love this game so much!

[pyrait]

On my adolescence

I've taken it upon myself to revive this ol' blog.

I was eighteen when i was last active on here. Graduating high school. Before that, i'd been reposting a lot of um, not-so-inspirational not-so-healthy pics of half-naked women of a certain body type if you know what i mean.

Harder than looking at others' skeletal bodies, was coming to understand deeply the feelings that where going through my own body at that age. Starting from 15 years old, i had a pretty tough time. Undiagnosed mental issues, diagnosed eds, negligent and abusive family members, and a lack luster social life is something i cannot just erase from my past. However, i've always felt this urge to hold on tightly to the resentment these tragic stories meant to me, fearing that since no one else seemed to pity me for it, if i decided to let them go, all of my suffering would've been for nothing.

I really thought that magically, once i had everything worked out and "suffered long enough", the universe or my ancestors' ghosts or god or whatever would congratulate me with a bag of coins and a puppy to my doorstep. :p

And well, i kinda got everything I wanted. I've moved out of my parents' into my own big apartment, i have a loving long-term partner, a bunch of diverse friends that are kind and soft, i graduated from my undergrad and got a job right out the gate.

Would you be surprised if i told you that i felt more miserable than i ever had after all this? Ofc you wouldnt.

A classic story of crazy expectations. Coupled with not knowing who the fuck you really are or want beside the "wants" you plea for yourself.

I've spent the last month or so in bed, half depressed, half slacking. Asking myself what's so wrong with me.

During that time i realized some things. 1) i can't expect some divine reward for anything. 2) no one's gonna come on a white horse and save me and 3) in short, my life is mine and only mine to build and enjoy.

And believe it or not, a crucial piece to this whole self-loathing mystery was in this here blog, lol.

Despite how nostalgic i usually am, i never revisited this blog before. While exploring old reblogs and personal confessionals, besides the obvious body image and eating issues i had, what caught my attention at first was how i actually had... tastes.

Like, i liked pretty pictures, and aesthetics. I had a soft spot for beautiful landscapes. I loved art and history even then. It might seem banal but I realized the girl i thought was only a caricature of suffering and awkwardness was more than that. We shared the same worries. We both thought that our time was running out, that we were both undercooked, immature.

I was a kid. Unfortunately, due to the environment i was in (all girls school, conservative vibes) the only outlet for self development of my adolescence i had was through the lens of sexuality. Basically, being a teen girl was all about being skinny, hot and luring in boys. I remember distinctly making out and giving out my body to a university guy just to feel pretty, or getting an bad-boy-later-on-actually-abusive boyfriend in order to increase my social capital in school.

I didn't really get to explore my teenage years in the way i see others do. With much more flexibility to figure out what you like and don't like. I also don't really have a lot of great or exciting memories from back then, unfortunately. But, what's important to me here is that ive been able to see how this narrative i used to have about me always being confused and devoid of personality was all just, the insecurities of a girl i am not anymore, but that i love profoundly and genuinely.

Truth is, at my old(?)ish age, I was kinda blaming everything wrong on the trauma my parents gave me, on how my peers ostracized me, on how intelligent yet misunderstood i was. Just, a bunch of stories that are definitely engaging, but unproductive and definitely untrue and unhelpful if i am to become a sentient adult who just, lives their life.

Im opinionated, smart, sensitive, nostalgic, beautiful inside and out. im creative, hardworking and ambitious, and im working on becoming a more compassionate leader who builds a life for themselves full of boundless love and generosity.

I don't relate to that depressed girl anymore. If anything Im a newly renovated, depressed adult :D jk, but i see the opportunities ahead, something i didnt for a long time.

love,

[jenny-dreadful]

if i can ask a personal question how do you know if you’re bi-aspec (or aspec in general)? i keep spiraling about what if im just a lesbian and thats why i havent had sex or maybe im too introverted. im in my late 20’s so i feel like if i honestly wanted to i would have by now but i almost feel like i HAVE to just be repressed instead and stuff like the lesbian masterdoc has made it way worse :/ i always hear people say like oh go with your gut but thats not good advice for a nervous person and idek if i know what attraction feels like period, is it nervousness? intrusive thoughts? aesthetics? ugh!

lots of pieces to this question! i’m gonna do my best to handle u. pardon the text wall

FIRST: How do I (“how does one”?) know I’m aspec? I can only speak for my own experience, but for me the important pieces were 1) Finding out “some people just don’t experience sexual attraction” was even an option and 2) Realizing/being told that when other people make reference to, like, wanting to fuck a hot stranger, they do actually mean it and it’s not just a crass, jokey exaggeration.

People are cute as hell! I really enjoy checking cute people out! But I’ve never once scoped a hottie and thought/felt “OOOH I’d like my business to get up in their business, physically-speaking,” you know? It’s crazy to me that anyone would. It’s crazy to me to know that most people have not only actually had, like, actual irl physiological responses just to the presence of an appealing person, but that that’s, like, a pretty normal part of life for most people. Like, HUH? Y’all cannot be actually getting blushy n wet n shit…y’all cannot have ACTUALLY needed to hide boners through your whole teens*…please say sike…

It’s not that I’m seeing hot people and going through, like, a thought process of deciding it’d be unsafe or immoral to fuck em and therefore ultimately I don’t want to, or that they’re out of my league, or that I’ve decided I’m uninterested in casual sex in a social sense (although things like that may also apply)—it’s really just. N/A. These concepts just aren’t linked for me.**

So my thought is: To answer “Why haven’t I had sex? Am I ace or am I just introverted?” try assessing: Are you actually, actively attracted to people, but not pursuing that attraction due to shyness? Or maybe: Do you assume on some level that palpable attraction/arousal is something that kicks in Later, If You’re Getting Into It With Somebody, and you’ve just personally failed to get far enough to unlock those feelings? Because that one’s not it, actually—people who aren’t ace Feel Attraction whether they’ve done anything about it or not

As far as the other points of confusion you’ve mentioned, I really can’t nail them down for you, but what I CAN say is that I personally find the questions of “Am I just repressed?” and “Maybe I’m a lesbian and scared to accept it?” to be supremely unhelpful. In this context, they both hinge completely on the idea of ‘Someone suggested I might be lying to myself because I’m not ready to accept [x], and it’s impossible to definitively refute bc the phenomenon described is one where, literally by definition, I would not know I was doing that.’ Genuinely, I think you gotta consciously set those questions aside—you can return to them whenever, if you want, when you have a better handle on your central question.

*Not ENTIRELY literal and black-and-white like this for all aces. Personally I’ve also always been v low-libido, so the “Is this attraction or am I just free-floating nonspecifically horny?” was pretty fuckin easy for me to answer. It might take a little more work for you though, I don’t know your life story

**(This is where we get a little more personal, so be cool, but: When I’m using more specific labels [“bi aspec” usually covers me just fine], I’m demisexual, which for me is like. It’s not that I’m “sexually attracted” to anybody so much as it is that beyond a certain point/type of personal closeness, romanticism etc., sex starts to seem appealingly cozy, I guess? When that applies, I’m still not getting Super Hype about it in the way allos do. I’m not feeling particularly Urged to do anything. I’m still not proactively physically responsive. Just kind of opens it up as an option wrt things that sound kinda nice). I mention this only because, I dunno, if you’re questioning, it’s important to acknowledge that asexuality has a lot of different shapes to it—for very few people is it a total absolute in every dimension.

So ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I don’t know if anything in there is helpful to you, but I hope so, and good luck ✨