#the version of her that taught me to bake

[riansdiary]

EMBODY A QUEEN/KING OR A BOSS TO HELP YOU DEAL WITH THE 3D AND THE OLD STORY

(this is my little gift/analogy for everyone to help you understand how to basically deal with the 3d when you manifest)

Dearest Gentle Readers 💎

I'm back with another amazing post and analogy to help you understand the law better! I've been noticing how I get so much asks that are focusing on the lack of the old story and I figured that I need a solid way to make me and everyone further understand how to deal with the 3d and the old story.

I just had a very long pep talk with myself in the bathroom. I was trying to find the best way to explain to myself and everyone how to exactly deal with the 3d when we manifest. Now, I have less and less negative thoughts than before but I found myself waiting for the 3d validation but we are supposed to be changing self, changing our thoughts and not paying attention or going back to the old story.

Let's start!

1. WE LIVE IN A MIRROR.

I've been finding better ways to explain to myself and everyone how the law works and one of the things I learned was that it's like we live in a mirror which is the 3d but there's this other world which is the 4d a.k.a our minds. We live in them both but to understand manifesting, you have to know that all the power is in your mind.

If you're ever bothered by the 3d when you're manifesting, just leave it alone and let it do its job. At the mean time, live in the 4d where everything is instantly manifested as soon as you accept that it is.

But Rian, how do we live in the 4d?

Here's how. Know that you are the creator of your reality and you just need to accept that your desires are fulfilled now and assume that you have it now. Change your thoughts and assumptions. Why don't you let the 3d reflect you and don't disturb every freaking minute? When you affirm you have something and you look for it and then you say it's not here. You were almost in the reality where you have it but... you let the 3d change your thoughts when it's just a mirror who listens to you. You changed your thoughts and pulled yourself back to the old reality.

Yes, we just quantum jump to another reality with our thoughts, states, assumptions or whatever you believe it is to be. We just need to shift our thoughts to the version of us who has it without comparing it to the 3d.

It's like baking a cake or planting a seed. You plant the seed or prepare the cake which is equivalent to you affirming and doing your techniques. You see your finished cake in your imagination, that is equivalent to the 4d/our mind. All you really need to do after that is relax and let the plant grow and let the oven bake that cake.

The 3d is the seed growing or the oven baking the cake! If you have been paying too much attention to the lack or the old story, that's you digging up the seed to check on it or taking out the cake too early, making it deflate and not letting the oven bake it to perfection.

At the same time, there is no waiting. Just know you have your desires now and relax and let the 3d do its work. Keep persisting and never let the 3d change your thoughts.

2. WE MAKE OUR OWN RULES

The basics literally say that what we assume is true is true so we can make our own rules in manifesting but not for strictly manifesting and burning yourself out.

Make rules that can help you manifest even easier and more effortlessly. Why not take advantage of the fact that whatever rule we say literally works as long as we assume it's true and that it's working?

Watch this video that was uploaded by Hyler. She's my favorite Loa YouTuber who taught me everyone I know and her new video made me drop the burdens that I have been carrying along with the old programming that we need to "work hard" to get things or to manifest. It made me feel lighter and I immediately started saying that breathing manifests my desires and that I just affirm a few times or never affirm at all and my desires quickly just falls into my lap!

Ask yourself what feels right and what feels best to do especially if you're burning out yourself or you feel like it's not working in your favor, make rules that help you manifest easier and faster. It can literally be as silly and effortless as you want to be! You can say that blinking manifests your desires or farting gives you a million dollars. It can be anything that makes it easier for you to manifest because at the end of the day, what you assume is true, is true. Also, regulate your nervous system and take care of your mental health. That's good for everyone.

I recommend watching Hyler's new video because I'm sure this will help you tremendously!

3. YOU ARE THE VALIDATION AND NOT THE 3D.

You are the boss or the queen/king of your reality. You are obeyed all the time so imagine what happens when you ruminate and fixate on the old story? Yeah. It gives you what you say or assume. The only one who gets a say whether you have it or not is YOU. Not the 3d, it's just a damn mirror. Why not say you have it now and leave the 3d alone. Affirm from your desire and persist. If you can stand firm on the decision that you don't have it then you can stand firm on having it too. Never take no for an answer. Again, you're not supposed to be the one who changes the 3d. That's your subconscious and the 3d's job and you're taking it from them. You're supposed to relax and chill and let them work. You're the ruler of your reality. You make the rules.

I know some of you would say that you need to change it now and all that because you're scared of your future. I have been through that and what we did was just think that we don't have it. That's thinking you don't have it. Leave the 3d alone and let it change without you fixating on it and your manifestation every moment. If you already have the millions or your SP or your dream career, you wouldn't be thinking from lack or fear of it not happening. Remember that you either have it or you don't. You cannot serve two masters.

BE THE VALIDATION. You're the ruler and all you need to do is to acknowledge that your desires are yours now. Keep thinking that you have it because the 3d is literally getting validation from you. Whatever you say is what it will show. Remember that.

I make my desires come faster by bypassing the need of validation from the 3d and instead giving the validation myself. I usually affirm for it like this. Let's say I wanna manifest a bag. I affirm "I have the bag now. Yup it's mine. I have it. It's here and it's in my reality now"

Yes. Emphasis on the phrases "It's here" and "It's in my reality"

I suggest everyone to try this out! Don't find it immediately after you do that. Instead, relax, leave the 3d alone, do what makes you happy and know that it's done and fulfilled for you now.

When you go through your day, just remind yourself again and detach. Distract yourself with things that make you happy and put you in a good mood. I recommend Ghibli movies or Ghibli vlogs for that or whatever you like! The reason we do this is simply for detaching, distracting ourselves, relaxing in the knowing that it's done and for self-care. That is important too. Just please treat yourself like a queen or king and relax. No you're not waiting for it, think that you already have it now, change your thoughts and let your subconscious and the 3d do their job.

You don't wanna suffocate and strangle the 3d asking where your desire is after you affirmed because the poor 3d is literally asking you what you want and is just waiting for you to give orders, to change your mindset and give it the validation that it needs to print out that reality.

That doesn't mean you can't feel your feelings and cry, that's fine but I'm just explaining the best way to deal with the 3d and not disturb it.

4. EMBODY A QUEEN/KING OR BOSS (I'll explain here how to deal with the 3d and old story)

Think King George and Queen Charlotte from Bridgerton, Queen Mia Thermopolis of Genovia and Hong Haein from Queen of Tears.

You are the Queen/King or the boss of your reality. Your every word or command is obeyed all the time. Again, reminding you that you are the ruler, you make the rules and your job is just giving orders and changing your thoughts or state.

Queens/Kings and Bosses just give their orders to a personal maid or a secretary and they know it's fulfilled immediately as they finish giving that order.

They don't wonder if it's done or when is it coming because they know it's fulfilled instantly for them or else you're fired and off with your head!

The personal maid, secretary or employee is your subconscious mind and the 3d.

You just know you gave your orders and you know it's done. You don't disturb or annoy and check on what your employee or royal staff is doing about the order you gave?

You 👏 are 👏 not 👏 letting 👏 the 3d 👏 do 👏 its 👏 job 👏

Other than that, you're handing the crown or the business over to your servant or employee. That is what happens when you let the 3d rule and let the 3d change your thoughts and you waver and think it's not working. You should always say it's working.

So do what you're meant to be doing and EMBODY your favorite Queen, King or Boss characters because that's your only job in your reality!

You decide what you want ➡️ you change you thoughts or state or command your subconscious ➡️ you let them do their job ➡️ relax and know it's done

The biggest reason why I recommend relaxing and doing what makes you happy is because, not only does it regulate your nervous system and help your mental health and help you detach, it also makes you happy and makes you feel good. That's important as well. Then you are happy and that shows to the 3d that you have it now because why do we want our desires? Ultimately the main reason is that it makes us happy so doing what makes you happy shows your subconscious mind and the 3d that you have it now. It's like a little trick and you then leave the 3d alone and trust the law.

This is all you'll ever need to read to perfectly understand the law but I know there are others who posted amazing explanations and analogies as well so go check them out and stick with the one you resonate or like the most.

I wanted to post one post that has everything you need to know about the law, how it works and how to deal with the 3d while you manifest. I know this will help a lot and I hope everyone finally understands and gets the law easier! It is really as simple as this is.

YOURS TRULY,

Lady Rian Whistledown 💋

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

It feels like hope.

Pairing: Hot Priest!Joel Miller x f!reader, no outbreak

Words count: 5700

Rating: Strictly +18, MINORS DON’T INTERACT

Warnings: pov second person, no use of y/n, priest kink, catholic guilt, religious kink, smut, unprotected p in v (use protections IRL!), reader has breasts and vagina and hair that can be pulled and wears a shirt and a skirt, apart from that no other description is given, age is not mentioned but they’re both grown up adults and reader is only inexperienced because she grew up in a very catholic family, fingering (f receiving), oral (m receiving), sex in a rectory, hair pulling, blasphemy all over the place 💀, pussy pronouns she/her, drinking, two hits on nipples, improper use of liturgical objects, cream pie, pet names (angel, baby), reader calls him "Father" during sex, mention of hell, mention of porn videos, mention of masturbation, improper use of prayers, God named in vain, another thing that I won’t spoil... listen, this thing is filthy, probably the filthiest more immoral thing I've ever wrote, ok? If you think you can't handle it just scroll down to another story.

This is a revised version of something I had already posted and then deleted because I personally didn't like it.

It took me months to come to an end with it, I don’t know why, I’ve changed a lot of things, I’ve changed the pov, I’ve changed dynamics etc… I really really hope you will enjoy it and please be gentle with me, I really tried hard even if you would think it’s no good.

English is not my first language and I have no beta so any mistake is all my fault, I’m sorry.

Title is a Fleabag quote, specifically from our beloved hot priest “when you find somebody that you love, it feels like hope”

Thanks to everyone who has shown interest in this story, thanks to those who were there from the beginning (you know who you are and I love you) and thanks to anyone who will read 🩷

(Just added a brief note at the end 😉)

Archive tags: @pedrostories ♥️

It all started on a Sunday. 

You came to your neighborhood church expecting a nice function and you exited knowing you were doomed. 

That Sunday you met the new parish priest.

From the first moment you felt like something in you was compromised. 

You couldn't even explain it to yourself and you had never felt like this, it was something so unfamiliar. 

A need you’ve never felt before.

Your eyes glued to his holy form, adoring his raven curly hair, his scruff, the curve of his neck, his strong nose, plump lips, broad shoulders, thick thighs, big hands.

Courteous and kind as he greeted parishioners leaving the church, he shook your hand and you felt a jolt.

You weren’t like this before, you did things to do good to others before. But now…

Volunteering for every event, clothing drive, bake sale, children's shows. You were always there for the ride. Making excuses to talk to him.

Wondering if he had any more freckles than the ones on his neck, how warm his skin would be, how manly and intoxicating his scent would be, what his kisses would taste like, what his fingers would have felt like inside your cunt, peeking at the outline of his cock under his black pants.

A perfect Christian girl who would have make your mother proud on the outside, a raging hell of arousal on the inside.

You couldn’t believe that he was him who had awakened this new person inside you, insanely hungry, wanting, needing to taste, lick, bite. 

His low gruff voice grueling from his chest echoed against your damp inner walls so much that you were almost afraid to get up after the mass and see a stain where you were seated.

It was more and more difficult every time to fight your urge, stay on the tracks of life that you were taught to live, no sex before marriage, no masturbation because it’s a sin, no impure thoughts because you were a good girl.

Yet now you could hear them, all those voices crowding your head, pushing you towards something you had been taught was wrong.

Entering the church you were trembling, guilt pulsing in your gut.

Everything was quiet and serene, your eyes wandered on the frescoed walls, the organ, the large altar and the wooden benches neatly lined up in rows in the central nave, your steps sounded uncertain and timid on the marble floor.

You entered the confessional feeling your heart beating wildly in your chest, palms sweating and your mouth dry.

You could hear his breathing through the grate.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned” 

The following silence weighed like never before.

“Open your heart to the Lord so He can forgive your sins”

And you had confessed. 

The words slipped from your mouth like pearls from a broken necklace, finally rolling free between your lips revealing your every sordid thought.

The girl shaped by catholic parents to be a modest virgin, mother and maid, perfect smile and delicate manners was in reality a shameful bundle of filth.

You were a sinner.

A sinner eaten out from dirty thoughts.

You told him how you couldn't stop thinking about him, how you had questioned your feelings and who you were as a person, how you hadn't spent a night without touching yourself thinking about him in many months.

You told him about your desire to kiss him and more. So much more. Everything.

Every single time you lowered your hand in your panties, every single time you squeezed your breasts, driven by instinct and desire, every single time you thought of him as Joel. Just Joel, a man.

You just wanted to let go of the weight on your chest, coming clean. If you said it all out loud you would have realized how crazy it was.

You heard the door snapping, a few heavy steps close to where you were seated, the door opening to your side.  

Suddenly he was there, standing in front of you.

He said nothing, only grabbed your arm, dragging you to the rectory.

Dust in the air danced beneath the soft light that came in from two small windows high up.

There wasn't much in the room, a cupboard where liturgical objects were kept, a table, a wardrobe where the clothes for the service were hung.

Nobody was there except the two of you, you could hear the rumble of his breathing and your heart drumming behind your rib cage.

He was staring at you. 

Your mouth sealed, a lump in your stomach.

You thought about the day he tried to teach you how to play guitar.

You were here, together, helping with the Christmas party. He was sitting strumming when you walked in, you tried not to surprise him from behind by pretending to cough and he turned to you. He didn’t stop playing as he greeted you, you told him “I didn’t know you played” and he invited you to try. As you sat down your legs were shaking, he gave you the guitar and you just stared at it, fingers uncertain and mind empty. 

“It’s not that hard” he told you and he leaned over you taking one of your hands in his and placing it on the neck of the guitar, moving your fingers over the strings “like this. Now play”

You strummed on the guitar and an unpleasant sound came out, you both laughed softly at your clumsiness and a flood of pleasure slicked your panties.

His breath on you was like a caress, you felt the minty scent grazing at your nostrils.

For a moment, just for a moment you thought, “I could turn around right now and kiss him. A few inches and my lips would be on his.”

Your desire flowed before your eyes, leaving you with nothing else to look at.

“But I can’t. I can’t.” 

You've tried to swat away that sinful thought with another strum on the guitar but nothing disappeared, instead it burned in your core even strongly than before.

You thought about that day when the rain caught you on your way to set up the bake sale, how you walked into the rectory soaked from head to toe, how he looked at your shirt stuck to your skin that left little to the imagination, how you instinctively covered yourself when you just wanted to let your arms hang at your sides and let him look at you. You saw a reaction in his eyes as he mumbled that he was going to get you a towel, just a moment before he regained his composure, and it was enough. You knew that he was not indifferent to you. That night you touched yourself imagining what it would be like if he took your shirt off, if he placed his lips on your neck, his tongue on your breast, his cock inside you.

You started to navigate on porn sites daily, out of curiosity first and then because you needed to see, you needed to imagine, you needed to visualize something so unfamiliar and strange to you. 

You were ashamed, but at the same time you couldn't help it, it was the only resource you could think of looking for and it was there, on your phone, private, no one would have known. You didn't even imagine you would find so many, a whole catalog of big dicks, huge tits, positions that your brain couldn't conceive.

Seeing those women pleasuring themselves scared you but at the same time attracted you, you wanted to be like them, you wanted to reach that pleasure, you wanted to try their way of using their hands, you wanted to refine your clumsy way of reaching that heat between your legs.

You sinked into it.

If your parents had known, if your community had known, you would have been branded an unworthy woman, a pervert, a slut.

But your parents were far away now, your whole life was somewhere else and you were proud to have freed yourself from the golden cage they had locked you in. You were an adult now, it was the moment to choose for yourself. If they hadn’t always denied you any other vision of the world, if they hadn’t forbidden you to have the experiences that everyone has in their youth, maybe it wouldn’t have happened this way.

His mouth was a thin line, tensed, you looked into his eyes and you saw nothing than dark.

So much different from the gentle detachment he had always shown to everyone, his look was a mixture of concern, agitation, maybe a hint of fear, but most of all - to your great surprise - sexual arousal.

You could see him cracking behind those eyes, you could feel his mind filling with all sorts of questions.

His voice was barely a whisper but sharp as a blade when he finally spoke “Are you even honest with that ‘I am a good christian’ thing? Say the truth”

You hesitated, the uneasiest bitter taste in your mouth.

“I-” your throat felt like atrophied “yes” you tried to say.

“No, you’re not. The least you could do is being fucking honest with Him” he raised his finger pointing it at the ceiling.

You’ve never heard him cursing before.

You looked down feeling the weight of your stomach turn to lead and then concrete and if you thought you were free now you felt even more guilty. 

You said the only thing your brain could think of at that moment and you knew what you were asking for, you knew what it would do to him and you knew that in this way you would drag him down with you. And yet you did it anyway, because desire was stronger than anything, than faith, than lies, than truth.

“I need-I need to repent. Teach me” you pleaded “teach me how to be good”

Something lit up in his gaze, like a spark of hell, a glow of lust.

He turned around and you hungrily followed his every move.

His hands moving expertly, the cupboard opening, him taking out the mass wine and pouring it into a chalice.

You saw him down the entire glass, without hesitation, without a shred of tremor.

You felt like you were watching a hurricane approaching, just waiting for the wind to suck you in without being able to do anything else.

You wanted it. You wanted it to sweep you away, to make you someone else, braver, indomitable, someone who wasn’t afraid to say what she wanted because of a belief that had been instilled in her, someone who was simply herself. 

We are all born with guilt, you told yourself. I am tired, tired of dealing with mine so much.

You just wanted to feel alive, to feel something authentic and fierce, no half measures. 

You wanted to be desired in a way that felt relentless and desperate, like air that is necessary to keep humans alive, something unique and undeniable.

Could Joel read it in your eyes? He was so good at reading people, you could tell it right away. 

He had guessed a lot about you, he had noticed how coffee was a weakness of yours - and his - and he offered you a cup first thing in every meeting.

He had noticed how nervous Danny, a parishioner who liked to play the fool with any woman present, most often in front of his wife, got you and made sure to never leave you alone with him.

He had noticed how much you enjoyed sewing and had assigned you the costumes for the play and praised your work. 

And he did the same with the guitar that day when he saw how enthusiast and curious you were about it. He didn't say it openly, but his gestures spoke for him.

He came closer to you again, bending the chalice to your mouth and said “drink”. Sharp, cold, an order.

At that point you didn’t care it was something you were not supposed to do, forbidden, maybe unholy even, you just drank. 

You were dealing with a part of yourself that always existed but you had put that in a box.

Joel looked into your eyes sternly and said: “Show me the good Christian that you think you are. Pray.”

“What?”

“Pray. Right now” 

“What prayer?” You asked, confused.

“You're not starting off well, you should know that.” He smirked, caught you in fail.

“Act of contrition” you whispered and he nodded “yes. That’s right.”

He was just inches away from you, his crucifix hanging between your bodies, grazing at your stomach. 

You began to recite in a low voice, stumbling over your words, your brain couldn’t think straight:

“O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest… all my sins because of thy just punishments, but most of all because they offended Thee, my God, who art all good and deserving all my love.”

You said it dozen of times before and yet it seemed totally different in that moment. 

Joel took off his rosary, letting it dangle from his hand and swing across your chest. Beads brushed against the cotton bra you wore under your blouse, making your nipples harden, you could feel them pushing against the fabric.

“Go on”

“I- I firmly resolve with the help of Thy grace to sin no more and to avoid the near occasion of sin. Amen”

“Take off your shirt,” he told you in a whisper.

Something shifted inside him “and your bra”

His voice was no longer the same, it came from deep within him, frighteningly authoritarian but to you it seemed like a magic instrument that was hypnotizing you.

You did what he told you. 

You were half naked in front of a man for the first time. It could have happened before, much before, but of course you couldn’t because you never got married. No one was supposed to see your body except the man you were going to take to the altar. That’s what they taught you.

Joel looked at you, entranced, almost in disbelief. You wondered how long it had been since he’d seen someone else’s naked body, what effect it had on him. 

You were more alike than you seemed, both of you denied something because of religion. 

You were both more needy and frustrated than you were allowed to admit. Tension hung in the air like a fog that clouded both of your gazes.

Every time you had talked to him you had noticed the way he looked at you but you thought it was all in your head, like you were a poor naive girl who was building castles in the air, but now you knew that wasn't the case.

It was another thing you shouldn’t have done but you prayed deep down that he wouldn’t decide to stop.

He raised his arm, clutching his rosary. You felt a slash through the air and then a sharp smack on your nipple.

You looked down shocked as the pain quickly turned into a dull pleasure rising from the pit of your tummy, to fade more and more, becoming a tingling sensation.

You liked it.

You wanted more.

He did the same at your other breast and all the breath you had left in your body had slipped past your lips in a lustful sob.

He took one of your nipples between his fingers, twisting and pinching it and you couldn’t help but moan. A sound you never made for no one and you made it first for a priest.

His body pushed you against the wall, his breath on your neck, his fingers didn't stop torturing your nipple. Everything you saw was red. Red like the passion you had never felt before, red like the blood that pulsed in your veins, red like sin.

“Kneel” he said firmly.

You were equal parts scared of making a fool of yourself and eager to try.

You knelt down, feeling the cold of the floor touch your shins. 

His eyes were as uncertain as yours, it was new territory for both of you but you saw a flame burning in him and you felt it inside you. 

His face was serious, tense, as if he was ashamed of what he was doing but couldn't contain. 

He was punishing you and punishing himself at the same time.

You weren’t afraid though, you were ready to face what was eating you up and you trusted Joel for some reason. You could see in him that he wouldn’t hurt you. At least not more than you wanted.

Your tentative fingers undid his pants, letting them sag around his ankles. A pronounced erection protruded from his boxers as his eyes almost begged you, they weren’t cruel and ruthless eyes, but rather needy and guilty.

You moved your hand closer to his crotch, hesitating for a moment before placing it there, testing the sensation, opening your fingers around it to realize how thick it was. You could feel the heat through the fabric. You caressed it, feeling the tremor that shook Joel's body. Your eyes couldn't tear themselves away, it was the first time you had seen one in person, you were amazed and attracted. You continued to caress him until you heard a grunt leave Joel’s lips and a stain wet the front of his boxers. You were struck by how much he was growing under your hand and the smell, like musk, pungent but not unpleasant.

You remembered the videos you had seen, how women did it, looking into the men's eyes lustfully, with a confidence and naturalness you had never acquired. You wanted to be like them, but you were afraid of being ridiculous or grotesque.

You slowly pulled down his boxers, gasping at the sight of his cock springing free. 

Joel had his eyes fixed on you, they were encouraging somehow, he made you feel safe but the trembling of your fingers did not stop. You took his shaft in your hand again and were surprised at how soft his skin was there, velvety. You watched that thin layer of skin retract as you moved your hand up and down like you had seen in the videos, it felt incredible. It was heavy, hot and throbbing. It was uncut. His big balls hanging right under. You ran your thumb over the tip, collecting the pre-cum that was leaking, spreading it around.

Joel was quiet, he let you do it.

He was touch starving, just like you.

You lowered your head and licked him, just with the tip of your tongue. A timid lick, like a kitten.

His taste, matching the musky scent you could smell, invaded your mouth in an instant. You had never tasted anything like it. You braced yourself, while Joel waited, and licked once more, this time starting at the base and working your way up.

Joel groaned.

You pulled away, looking into his eyes, he brought a hand to your cheek and then to your chin and took it in his palm. 

“You are so beautiful” he whispered.

And you felt beautiful, you felt like someone was really seeing you for the first time. And you loved that that someone was him.

You took a deep breath and lowered your head onto his cock, you knew you couldn't fit it all in your mouth, but you wanted to take as much as you could.

“Don’t force yourself” Joel murmured as your lips touched his skin, causing another whine.

“I want to do it” you replied resolutely, you were loving hearing him whimper beneath you.

His length slid across your tongue, wet and salty, your lips closing around it.

You closed your eyes and focused on that feeling, just holding it there, nestled inside.

“Suck it,” Joel commanded gently, bringing a hand into your hair and twining his fingers there.

You were unsure how to do it, you tried to suck it in as if you were using a large straw, with all the breath you had.

Joel flinched, almost losing his balance “Easy, baby” he muttered

You pulled away again, eyes widened “oh my god, I’m sorry” almost afraid of having hurt him but he immediately reassured you "no it's okay, just... go slower, go slower if you don't want me to come right away”

“Uh- okay” responding timidly to the smile that was spreading across his face.

You began to suck again more calmly, holding the base tightly with your hand, feeling it pulsate between your fingers and on your tongue.

It was an addictive sensation, spreading through your synapses like a drug.

Obviously you had never tried any drugs, but you imagined that the sensation might be similar to something like that.

Joel still held your head, his grip tightening as you continued, you could feel his body tense and respond, and you liked it. You liked it more than you ever liked putting on your Sunday best and going to say prayers with your parents like you always had.

There was actually a prayer that was ringing in your head and it was Joel's, who softly repeated "just like that, you're being so good to me”

It was exhilarating.

You felt like you had a true gift, for once in your life.

An obscene gift, but still.

You had the courage to run from your mom and dad and then at what felt like a minute later you found yourself there, naked from waist up, on your knees, sucking a priest cock.

You’ve never felt more alive.

Deep down you were exactly that person there, not a whore like everyone you knew would say. Just a woman, a woman who wanted what other women wanted. Sex, pleasure, being important to someone or just not being condemned to do what others wanted for you.

You continued to suck as Joel's breathing became heavier and more labored.

At that point he was just uttering disconnected phrases like “oh my God” and “Yes, go on”, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

Suddenly he started shaking violently, almost falling, as something warm and sticky hit your throat. You knew what it was and you were eager to swallow, as you had seen done in so many videos.

A little of it slipped from your lips, down your chin, onto your neck.

Joel's hand was still in your hair, it almost hurt but it was a delicious pain that you were enduring, a small punishment for the rush of adrenaline and excitement that was coursing through you.

You kept holding his cock in your mouth until you felt it relax.

“Get up,” Joel said gently, still out of breath, as he was fixing his boxers and pants.

Your knees almost gave out, you leaned against the wall feeling wetness on your panties.

Joel came closer to you, placing a hand on your cheek, pulling you into a deep kiss that left you stunned for a second and then you were more than happy to reciprocate. His tongue in your mouth explored feverishly, you wondered if he could taste himself from your lips.

He pulled out saying “I’ve never done anything like this before” and you replied “me neither.” 

And then he was on your lips again, nibbling at your lower one, placing his hand on your thigh, raising it under your skirt, up to your drenched panties, grazing them with his fingers.

You squirmed, moaning a “yes, please” from down your throat, a tingle spreading on your outer lips, in your tummy, up to your chest.

He put his hand inside your panties, brushing your skin.

“What should I do with you?” He asked, in an almost desperate tone, as if he knew he couldn't stop and was asking permission not to.

“Make me come” you pleaded “Please.”

He sighed, pulling your panties aside and sliding his index and middle fingers between your folds, gathering your wetness up to your clit, starting circling it as you writhed. 

It was different than when you did it yourself, his fingers bigger and stronger, his touch a little clumsy but still effective and intoxicating.

His mouth landed on your neck, stifling a moan, sucking a hickey where it joined your shoulders, nibbling hungrily at your skin.

“Have you ever done this before?” 

“Just…me” 

He smirked “have you ever put your fingers inside you?” 

“I- yes.” there were no point on beating around the bush, you told him that you touched yourself thinking about him. You were already deep down into that dizzy. 

“Put your fingers in me” you added immediately “I want to feel them, please Joel, I want to know what they can do to me” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes, yes.” You breathed.

He prodded at your entrance,  just a little bit, making you whine just with his fingers tip.

The rosary lay abandoned on the floor, you could see it out of the corner of your eye and you didn't care about that eyewitness symbol of what was happening between you two.

You would have liked him to put it around your neck while he fucked you, fully participating in that sinful act. 

You were surprised yourself at what you were thinking but somehow it made you even more eager.

You felt two of his fingers sink inside you, filling that void that you had never been able to fill enough on your own, stretching you. 

It hurts a little at first because they were bigger than yours, but then it was more heavenly than anything else. If you were made for anything, it was to be there in that moment.

Joel looked ecstatic “God, she’s so… wet” he whispered “and warm” His face was the representation of pleasure, lips slightly parted, his eyes wide, his pupils dilated, his heavy breathing blowing on your neck.

He began to move his fingers inside you rhythmically, each thrust making you shake and sob, a litany of “yes” coming out strangled from your mouth.

He went slowly, taking his time, as if he was savoring every second of your pussy tightening around his fingers.

He placed his other hand on your breast again, cupping and squeezing and then twisting your nipple. Big hand full of your tit.

It was beautiful. You didn’t know how or why people could deny themselves that, but you certainly wouldn’t do it again, not after having Joel inside you. He curled his fingers, looking for the right way to make you feel the pleasure you wanted, the one you kept asking for.

“You like that, baby?” He asked with an hopeful tone

“It feels so good, so good” you told him, clinging to his neck, digging your nails into his soft skin as you felt like you were losing your mind. You didn't care about losing it, your mind had ruled your life for so, so long.

“Please don’t stop” you murmured, tightening your other hand on his wrist, guiding him “don't stop”

You felt your essence slowly leaking out of you, spreading over Joel's fingers and your outer lips, you had never been so soaked, never so much as under Joel's touch.

Your eyes suddenly fixed on that little piece of white cloth that was around his neck, that little piece that made all the difference in the world and made what you were doing terribly wrong in the eyes of others and God and Joel kissed you again like a man deprived and starved, his lips trembling and dramatic, asking silently for more and more, like they were drinking from yours.

He was all over you, like a sailor through a  violent storm, he clung to whatever he could, as if it were a matter of life and death. 

Tasting him like this, the smell of his skin, his warmth, his clerical clothes rubbing against your half-naked body, made your head spin.

You moved your hand onto his collar, grasping it with your fingers, pulling it, until it came undone, you squeezed it as you came copiously, repeating Joel's name and God's, cutting off your moans, abandoning your head on Joel's shoulder.

It was all too much and yet not enough, you wished it would never end. Joel held you tight, one hand moving behind your back, as his fingers continued to sink into you. The blinding pleasure that had invaded every fiber of your body was raging like hell’s flames inside you, like a sinful but also purifying fire, wrong and right, heavenly and hellish.

And then it slowly faded, giving way to a sense of satisfaction that had never belonged to you.

You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, hard and demanding again.

Joel grunted, pulling his fingers out of you, taking them to his lips, gathering your juices with his tongue.

“I want… I want your cock, Father” you whispered, at that point you felt greedy, delirious, drunk on sex.

His eyes widened, being called “Father” was making him even more aroused and dizzy.

You grabbed his balls from above his pants, holding your hand tightly on them “please, Joel”.

If you were going to Hell for this, you might as well go all the way.

Joel pushed you against the table on the other side of the room, making you sit on it, unzipped his pants again, pulling out his cock without hesitation, as if he had finally accepted his fate.

His fingers were big but his cock… you wondered how it would all fit inside you.

“I’ll go slowly” Joel reassured you “It will fit” he said, brushing your folds with the tip, aligning his cock with your entrance, as if he had guessed your thoughts. His eyes were blacker than ever as he prodded his shaft past through your lips.

It felt overwhelming, so big and pulsing, it hurt but you almost immediately felt a fullness that you had never felt and a sense of belonging, your pussy opened like a bud, widening and molding for him.

If you were made for anything, it was to be there in that moment.

“She’s tight, so damn tight” Joel gawked “fuck” 

You whimpered, looking at his face, so serious, pleasure written all over it and you felt like it was right, it had to be right if it was that good.

“Make me yours, Father, make me good” you pleaded. 

Joel growled as he slid in and out of you, slamming against your walls, your pussy making obscene squelching sounds every time he moved, dripping all over his cock and the table.

It didn’t even seem embarrassing to you to be so inexperienced, you both were. You didn’t know if Joel had had sex before but you guessed he hadn’t had it in a long time anyway. 

You didn't know if it was the way it was supposed to be but you felt like it was natural, not like in the videos you'd seen which were probably mostly choreographed to please the eye.

It was sex. Pure and simple. Urgent, hungry, even uncontrolled.

And the way your body reacted, melting like wax under Joel's hands, arching into his touch, bending to his will, and seeking all the friction you could get, told you that this was the right way for you.

“See?” Joel mumbled “You’re taking me so well, baby, a perfect angel for me”

You twisted your legs behind his back, pushing him against you as much as you could, kissing the exposed skin on his neck. It drove you crazy that he was still dressed, you wanted to rip off his shirt and run your hands down on him, feel his warm skin on yours so you did it. You placed your hands on both sides and you just popped every button, revealing his broad chest, feeding your eyes with every single detail and your fingers with every shape and curve.

“Never had a cock inside before but that pussy is made for mine, I swear to God she is” he started desperately rutting into you, deeper strokes every time, taking God’s name in vain, murmuring some prayers while he pounded into you. You could feel his big vein brushing at your walls, his big mushroom hammering your cervix, the most intense rapture you’ve ever felt.

He pulled at your hair, forcing you to look him in the eye, murmuring “that’s what you wanted, huh? Dragging me to hell with you?”

Your eyes filled with tears at the thought. It was true, somehow you corrupted him, but you were willing to face that just to feel something so strong. You weren’t sure about him though.

But again, he was there, right there with you, with his cock inside your cunt and you didn’t force any of it, he could say no, he could stop, but he choose the sin. Now blaming you wasn’t so saintly nor kind, but you understood why he did that. He needed to blame someone other than himself, and you were there, open arm taking the weight for him.

Your ass slid back and forth on the wood of the table with each thrust, one of his hands was on your nipple again while the other held you behind your back. He then moved to your clit, applying pressure on it, circling it with two fingers.

You looked down only to see his cock sinking between your lips, his balls bouncing and the bush of hair that adorned his groin glistening with your juices.

You could smell the sex in the air, your mingling scents becoming one, your pleasure merging and becoming one as he shot huge spurts of cum into you.

He muttered a prayer, asking God for forgiveness, his voice exhausted, hoarse, broken by orgasm.

And then you woke up.

Your room was quiet, the crucifix that your mom gave you hanging on the wall behind your bed.

It took a few seconds for your sleepy, blurry gaze to settle on it, you were sweaty and shocked.

You closed your eyes, shutting them and cursing under your breath. 

You unrolled your body from the sheets and then stood up and picked up the crucifix. Your days as a good, God-fearing girl were over.

A/n: if you don't know what is dream and what is reality in the story at this point, that's what I wanted, I hope it's not too confusing but I wanted to try something new. I hope you liked it and thanks for your time 🩷

[writtenbycassandra]

why i don't like the netflix adaption of sge

i've watched the movie this weekend, and i have some thoughts to share:

the people in the village actually know about the school and the fairy tales. it's important because in the books it is one of the things that characterizes sophie the way she is. most kids have developed a fear of being selected for the school for good and evil, while sophie is anticipated to be kidnapped by the school master. she even bakes goods for him, feigns "good" demeanor, and discards all the protective mechanisms her father had constructed to keep her safe.

her father and to-be stepmother are portrayed inaccurately as well. they are simple, sane people. in the books, they never treat sophie really horrible. perhaps her father wanted a son instead of a daughter (we don't really find out if that is true or a part of sophie's broken worldview), but he still cares for her—he provides her with enough resources to do her strange make up routine every morning, he eats her gruesome food (yes, he complains, but not with an abusive tone at all, he just sounds tired of having to consume the vegan food he clearly hates), and he tries to prevent her from getting captured. and her stepmother is also a vaguely decent human being, and not a merciless, evil person.

the way sophie talks to people is very different. in the books, everything she did was to make her appear more "good", so she'd be taken to the school for good. she never actually had any motivation apart from her own wants. most people who watched the movie love sophie, but not because they think she is evil, but because they think that she is simply misunderstood. and in the book it's made extremely clear how false this is. sophie is jealous, cheats, manipulates, lies, finds joy in hurting others, kills, judges easily, only cares for her looks, feels no empathy or guilt, and rejects people who are trying to help her. and she doesn't do it because she is misunderstood and wants to find revenge/was taught to be that way/lived through a traumatic event. honestly, i find her pretty scary. book sophie would've killed movie sophie instantly.

agatha is also a point for me. first of all, her looks. and i'm not talking about the race of the actress (acting skills are what matters and she is a good actress), but about the way how they depicted her. agatha was supposed to look "hideous"—oily hair, watery eyes, grim face. people literally flinched before her in the books because of the way she looked (and treated herself accordingly.) but her movie version looks so pretty, and i mean that not in the objective way, but in the way that they didn't include the things that made her appear ugly in the books. they never let her grow and find out that she was always pretty, but nobody recognized it because she couldn't embrace her beauty. also, the thing about her being good is a thing. in the books we are thaught that regardless of her gruff, quiet, lonesome, and sorrowful personality, agatha still can be a good person. but in the movie she's just your average, nice teenage girl. there is no character depth. where is the mean, broken girl who seemed to hated everything, yet wanted to be good? where is the girl that wouldn't give up on sophie? where is the girl that always prioritized others? well, we never really got to see her in the movie.

agatha and tedros' relationship is an insta-love story instead of a slow burn. remember, in the books he hated her at first and literally wanted to kill her until like over 300 pages into the book. just saying. and in the movie, they are all nice to each other, like no? sophie was the one tedros had a crush on at first because he though that she was his would-be princess. (there was also no character depth on his side. he never overcomes his prejudices.)

they revealed stuff way too early and made the two female teachers enemies instead of friends. (also, why is jesper playing the evil gremlin?) that disappointed me because i loved their dynamic in the books.

all the little yet extremely important things were missing... the lessons yuba, professor sader's whole existence, the test about "being good" that agatha aces, so many scenes with the never girls, the ever girls being more evil than some nevers, all the lore.

it was not a bad movie (it's okay, i guess?), but it's a horryfing adaptation of the books.

[projectcaramel]

Obey Me! Random Headcanon #12

How they treat you vs. their kids, Former undates version. (For Luke he basically is your child/little bro, so adoptive siblings.)

Diavolo

Attitude towards you: "Hey, Barbatos, would you bring over the-" and Diavolo stops you halfway through the request. You're a queen to him, even more so after you got pregnant/adopted, and it's become his habit to serve you. So the next thing you know, in the middle of dinner, Diavolo is making a run to the kitchen for cookies.

Towards your child: "Papa, can we have cookies?" Diavolo is definitely the type to spoil his kid during family time. So, of course, they have a whole conversation about what kind of cookies and end up baking them together (probably with you in tow) after dinner.

Barbatos

Attitude towards you: Before you can even ask for the honey, he'll be gently setting it down in front of you with a smile. "I imagine you'll like two teaspoons for this tea; it might be too sweet otherwise."

Towards your child: "Why do they get honey, and I don't?!" Your child might throw a tantrum while you sigh. "It's medicinal tea," Barbatos will lecture, "It is very important that you take care of your health, even if it may be unpleasant."

Simeon

Attitude towards you: "Simeon, could you pass the powdered sugar over here?" And he'll pass you the sugar with a short "Here you go, darling" or "Certainly, angelcakes." Even if you ask him rudely because you're cranky.

Towards your child: Much the same as you, actually, aside from the form of address. The difference is when your child gives him attitude. He'll let it slide half a dozen times with a gentle chiding. After that... you might not want try his patience yourself.

Luke

Attitude towards you: "Luke, be a dear and pass the whisk, would you?" And he'll hand it to you with a big smile like he's so happy to be helpful (which he is).

Towards Diavolo's kid: "Oi, Chihuahua (Lucifer taught him/her that by accident), give me that." And Luke will run to you complaining without giving anything over.

Towards Barbatos' kid: "Young sir, I was wondering if I might be able to have one of those macarons?" Luke will be hesitant, but he ultimately caves and gives not one, but three to the kid with a "D-Don't expect me to screw up so many all the time!"

Towards Simeon's kid: "Hey, Luke? Can you please pass me the sprinkles?" And Luke will be fawning over how cute the kid is with the way they ask, both giving it to them and advising them on decorating their cupcake.

Towards Solomon's kid: "Hey, squirt, pass over the diabetus you're making there." And when Luke suspiciously refuses, the kid will move the bowl with telekinesis and dip their finger in the bowl anyway.

Solomon

Attitude towards you: "Sol, frying pan. Give it here. Now." And Solomon will pout at you and complain, but he'll ultimately hand it over without any fuss and let you cook.

Towards your kid: "Dad, can you pass the black casserole?" Solomon will look at his child with a healthy measure of amusement and suspicion because the last time he said that, his kid blew up the dish and its contents before eventually saying, "So you've finally come around then?" (No.)

-- Caramel: So what I mean to say is that Diavolo's kids will be spoiled rotten, and Barbatos' is only bratty around his father. --

[needle-thread-thimble-spear]

Revolutionary Girl Utena and Epistemic Violence

or

Why Anthy is not a trans girl (but she is to me)

~~

Ohtori, as any good setting tends to, carries a lot of thematic weight. It’s a fairy world, where metaphorical illusion blurs personal hopes over a poisoned interior structure, to the point where an outside perspective may struggle to distinguish between what a character is thinking and what is actually happening. Time and memory are suggestions whispered in the ear of its students, a cyclic hell where the same puppets are played in position, memories broken but dreams intact, to test new victims and forge new swords. A kingdom of nowhen, ruled from above by a king that refuses to see that the prison he built cannot ever free him. A hierarchy where the misogyny taught to children to prepare them for the grown up version is baked into the very structure of the world, belying a culture of horrible sexual violence. And at the very bottom of that hierarchy, the victim-witch, is the kings own sister. A sort of broken Omelas, where one girl must suffer forever and ever, not to end the suffering of others, but to keep them in the dark. Especially her brother. What Ohtori is, and the hierarchies that it represents both within the work and outside of it, hinges on the suffering of that girl. And, maybe more importantly, her silence.

~~

Revolutionary Girl Utena changed my life. I’ve been saying this nearly two years now, mostly as a joke, but with distance I can see it really isn’t. When you are in the depths of an abusive relationship, it is extremely difficult to see what’s happening to you. I don’t wish to dwell on my own story here too much, but how can I ignore it? RGU was the language I used to understand what had happened to me. Images from the show flit through my mind as though I were a Tamarian. Utena, in the window. Anthy, with the candelabra. Utena, her hands cut with thorns. Anthy with the white beret. After finishing the show for the first time I felt sickened. Not merely because of the subject matter depicted, raw and horrible as it is, but because I saw myself in it. Why do I feel such a kinship with Anthy?

I think, dear reader, you may be able to imagine the horror inherent to that realization. You might have felt it, you may be feeling it now.

It seemed obvious to me then, for reasons I could not begin to fathom, that Anthy was a trans girl. Reeling from my first watch, this felt like the only conclusion I could draw though I couldn’t tell you why. For years, I have drafted and redrafted essays attempting to justify this feeling. Recently, I posted an reading of Miki as a transfem character, and I don’t feel particularly strongly about that reading! Sure, aspects of his character were relatable to me, I could draw analogies well enough, but that was completely secondary to my actual goal. Practice for the transfem Anthy essay. Looking back on what I’d written now, I don’t. Hate? What I wrote. There’s definitely some aspects I’d repudiate now. If you enjoyed reading it, if it meant something to you, I’m glad. But even as I was writing it it felt incomplete and limited. And I believe I understand why.

What did I get wrong about Miki and Kozue? What lies in Ohtori’s heart? What lies in that bed of rotten rose petals?

We all know what does, but we do not want to see it and certainly don’t want to talk about it.

It’s Nanami’s disgust with Anthy, with herself. It’s Miki and Kozue’s confused but earnest posturing. It’s Utena looking up at Akio, it’s Anthy’s vacant stare.

Even here, I’m speaking in abbreviated reference. But it’s abuse, sexual, at times incestuous abuse, that touches every character in RGU.

I’d recently seen a few posts which I think hit on a really common phenomena among fans of the show. Our own stories, our own disgust, our own fears and our own traumas, sort of get in the way when we talk about RGU. I think it’s a natural consequence. RGU deals with heavy subject matter that is very difficult to sit with. I don’t think it’d be incorrect to say most western fans of RGU are queer in some way. We’re much more likely, as consequence, to suffer from interpersonal abuse. And naturally, we are drawn to these characters since they represent, with so few holds barred, some of our worst experiences. But does that make them like us?

For the record, I think it would be ridiculous to suggest that RGU isn't a queer show and that it isn't filled with queer characters. But, for as obvious a conclusion as this is, a surprising depth of that queerness is veiled in subtext. It’s worth considering, the endless arguments over whether Anthy and Utena are lesbians or bisexual, is sort of inconsequential. The important thing is that they have escaped, together! We could suppose that, were Ohtori a real place, we could go track down the two of them and demand from them an answer. How do you feel, Anthy, about your attraction to Akio? What does that mean to you? Would you please quell that horrible disgust we feel thinking about it? Inquiring readers would like to feel better know!

When one leaves Ohtori, one leaves the view of the audience. Utena and Anthy are in love with one another, but what that means to them (and themselves) is out of our reach.

And yet, I can’t seem to shake my original conclusion, from my first watch. Surely it cannot be intended! Hell, even the fact that Anthy is desi is sort of incidental to any commentary on social injustice, the motivation for depicting her (and Akio) this way was to exoticize them relative to the rest of the school. So is this image of Anthy as a brown trans girl, her position in Ohtori being a result of transmisogyny, some western myopia? Mere projection of the aggrieved self on a character who, by her nature, absorbs the feelings and impressions of those around her?

Sort of?

Revolutionary Girl Utena was created in a Japanese cultural context, to be sure, but it’s worth noting that while the precise execution of (trans)misogyny and other gender injustices may vary from culture to culture, patriarchy isn’t exactly exclusive to the west. There is a lot of different directions we could run in here, but the one I want to focus on is epistemic violence (a good primer linked here if the term is unfamiliar). *

In Ohtori, all girls are like princesses, unless they are like witches. And, sooner or later, all girls are like the rose bride, the doll-witch, the synthesis. This is how patriarchy works. There is a concept of “permissible” femininity, and an “impermissible” feminity. There is the wife, the mother, the domestic servant, who is permitted some limited social power by her utility to a patriarch (primarily as a mother to trueborn children). Then there is, well, everyone else. “Loose” women, sure, but also those who have been damaged by sexual violence. Those who cannot bear children, because of some accident of their physiology. These women are used, for feminized labor, for sex, but because of the stigma associated with them and the issues they present toward patrilineal succession, they are subject to various censure. One does not talk about survivors of sexual violence or sex workers in polite society. It is possible for some to travel between these two categories, although it is far, far easier to go from “type 1” to “type 2” than the other direction. Indeed, for some it is not possible to have ones “virtue” restored. If we aren’t being reduced to predatory inhuman monsters, trans women, both a hypersexualized object of intense fetishization and incapable of bearing children, are placed into the second category automatically. Lots of would be abusers are happy to whisper in our ears, that they will treat us like we are “type 1”, but invariably they do not.**

The most maddening thing to me about being a trans woman is this, inability for anyone to see the violence that happens to you. People don’t believe you can be the subject of (sexual) violence, even though the fact it occurs to you, regularly, should be obvious to anyone who thinks about how we are perceived for just a moment! You cannot speak up without sounding delusional, it can happen right in front of a stranger, your best friend, and they wont bat an eye. That you are so incredibly disgusting, no one would want to hurt you that way.

Anthy isn’t a trans girl. But the system that silences her, treats her like she deserves her victimization, that she is irrevocably tainted by her relationship with Akio, the system that keeps us, the audience, from internalizing the dreadful truth of her character, this veil of silence, of covered ears and closed eyes, is extant in the lives of all misbegotten gender-oppressed rejects. If we are going to draw analogies between ourselves and Anthy, or Utena, or Nanami, or any the rest of them, we need to pull back that veil. Indeed, it's confronting (and then escaping from) that choking, word-stopping bile that sits at the core of RGU's thesis. I don’t think it’s wrong for us to relate to the characters in RGU, and write about that. But we might stop to consider why before we do!

*If you’re curious to read more about patriarchy across cultures, here is a really incisive article on the phenomena of third sexing, the operation of (trans)misogyny and gendered violence in parallel across cultural contexts, and how that relates to the western and desi sphere (but also more broadly).

**It should also be noted that there can be no comparison of suffering of anyone under patriarchy. Even the most vaunted cis man, I suppose. But there can be a comparison of power, and this is why we discuss it rather than throw up our hands.

Thank you for reading, I think this is the last I'm going to write about RGU for a while, though there's quite a bit I want to say about Utena and Anthy's relationship. So someday, I'll get around to more! And a perennial thank you to @empty-movement for the high quality archival images.

[shefollowedthestars]

okay after this post i have to do this

owning a bakery with your girlfriend, kate bishop 𐙚 ˚🍰 ⋆｡˚ ᡣ𐭩

warnings: none except a mention of a threat? if there's anything else that should be put here pls lmk

notes: I LOOOOVE THIS IDEA. bc i love baked goods and kate bishop. this is also mostly unedited so i apologize if it is horrible lmao 😭 also i mentioned the bakery is in east harlem bc that's the vibe it gives me but i also have never been to nyc so i could be completely off

it's called bishop-y/l/n's bakehouse. small and brick, located in east harlem, it's a homey and welcoming bakery that thrives and centers around community

you two are friends with your regulars and constantly help said regulars out in their personal lives (kate and her friends may have saved them a couple of times). but you always know things abt your customers lives and have daily chats. "ms. carter! did your son get accepted into columbia?"

the art on the walls consist of custom art you two had made of your golden retriever, archery memorabilia, souvenirs and things you got gifted - all very friendly and cozy vibes

all the recipes are either family recipes you got from your side or recipes that kate discovered from messing around in the kitchen for hours

additionally, the bakehouse is the number one spot for the young avengers (mcu's version). after a hard mission or when they're stuck on something, they'll come to the bakery and talk to you as you serve what you know is there favourite dish. you know each superhero's one by heart and ofc you know kate's better than anyone else's. you know her favorite is the strawberry shortcake cupcakes you make (your great aunt taught you the recipe) and she likes them with one strawberry slice cut in half on the top. she gives you a kiss on the cheek whenever you bring it over, which earns a "ew" from kamala lol and a "ohhhh my god you two are adorable" from billy

kate likes to refer to owning a bakery as her first job as it is her favorite thing in the entire world. she loves serving customers, preparing food with you and looking at the community and home that you've built

i think there's definitely been times the bakery has been threatened by certain enemies with kate being hawkeye and she immediately gets protective and tells her co-heroes that they have to do something about it

she didn't really need to tell them that though because they were all on the same page. there's no way america is losing the place that sells the best flan in all of new york city!!

and you know those cliche play fights couples have in movies? where they throw flour at each other and now ingredients are all over each of their faces but they're just both so in love with each other? yup that happens way too often with the two of you. you'll say something like "hey aren't you like a wannabe katniss everdeen?" and she'll immediately throw the flour she has at your face teasingly lmao

also clint and his family visit all the time and the kids are so excited!! they will try literally everything in the bakery and get a sugar rush lol. it tires you out low-key, but it makes kate want kids soooo bad. and can you blame her? i mean imagine a cute little kid running around looking cute and taste testing your new recipes 🥺 "mommmm, it needs to be sweeter!!"

and whether you end up having kids in the future or not, this bakehouse will be passed down to someone part of the warm and loving family you two have created with your delicious food <3

i'm literally obsessed with this idea so if you have anything to add PLEASE let me know in the comments or send me an ask abt your thoughts bc i could talk about this for hours on end genuinely. anyways i hope you enjoyed and have a wonderful wonderful day!!

[epickiya722]

I remember a tiktok which, obviously, characterized Yuuji as not knowing to cook. Like it was disproved in the canon but it can't beat the stéréotype that since he's strong and sunny he have to be a stupid jock

Which when you think about it, it wouldn't make sense for Yuji to not know how to cook.

He was raised by his grandfather who surely would teach how to take care of himself. Wasuke would have definitely taught Yuji how to cook (I headcanon that Wasuke bakes, too, whenever he has downtime and taught Yuji and Kaori some things. Yes, I do mean Kaori. I like to think when Kaori came into the Itadoris' life, Wasuke would bake with her).

Clean, cook, all the necessary skills needed.

I get with fanonizing a character you don't have to go by canon, but some versions of a character just feels... not right, you know?

Like, with characters with upbeat personalities like Yuji, some people do tend to dumb them down. (Gojo even gets hit with this.)

Some people even go as far as to even take away the parts of him that isn't all sunshine and rainbows. Sometimes the portrayals of Yuji are him being "too pure".

It's like "he's not allowed to be like this because I prefer this" and that version is just a whole different character.

Can't Yuji be strong, nice, and skillful? Does he always have to be a jock?

I know some people will say that in canon he has the skills to be an athlete and didn't want to become one because he had to go see Wasuke. But even then, I still don't see Yuji as a jock.

In fact, I think he would actually hate sports.

I'm rambling here and real quick I'm bringing up Megan Thee Stallion here.

I'm reminded of a video where she explains she did try out sports in school because people would say she could be good at them because of her stature, but when she tried sports she found she wasn't into them and stuck to dancing.

That's Yuji to me. "I may be built for this, but I don't have the enjoyment for this."

Back to the initial point...

Where did "this character can't cook" even come from? I see that often. Like some characters can't cook, sure. But I see it with characters that you know would at least the basics because of their circumstances.

Yuji would know how to cook, he does know how to cook.

[bellysoupset]

Okay so this is what I thought of while reading the interactions with the kids.

I just remembered that Vince is lactose intolerant, right? So how would you feel about lactose intolerant Vince with (reluctant) caretaker Max for a change?

I mean I can imagine maybe a class party or something with a kid wanting to make sure that Mr. Monacelli (or Mr. Mo because that is freaking cute) is having fun too, so they keep bringing him snacks.

I can totally see Vin accepting anything and everything from a kid with doe eyes and not having any way to refuse because the kid is watching him and wants to see Vin eat it. (Let's be honest, Vince would never even speak up because he wouldn't want to hurt their feelings).

After that Vin is feeling gradually sicker and sicker until Max can't keep ignoring him anymore, so Vin has to spill the tea.

Then Max is like "why did you even accept?" While Vin, slightly offended, is like "did you really expect me to say no to that kid?"

I know it's really detailed, feel free to ignore it, I just couldn't get this little scenario out of my head.

- 💜

💜! I hope you like this one, I slightly twisted it and it's a little different from my usual... So let me know what you think!

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

Max frowned, leaning on the doorway of the kindergarten. His hands were full with a large tupperware with baking soda, food coloring and vinegar, the usual science fair volcano mix. 

What caused him to pause, though, was the sight inside the classroom. Mr. Monacelli, or Mr. Mo to the little ones, was standing, with a kid on his hip, a little girl… Livia, judging by how comfortable he seemed to be as he held her. 

Liv’s dark wavy hair was up pigtails and she had face paint on, the tip of her nose painted black and whiskers on her cheek, a matching look that was mirrored on the other children. Cats, the Musical, kindergarten version? Max thought with a snort.

Vince also had face paint on and he was chewing something Livia had just pushed inside his mouth, out of a box. Across the room Max noticed a tall chocolate cake, with a glittery candle that said 7 on top.

That explained it. 

Birthday parties were always the bane of his existence, so he was incredibly glad he barely taught kindergarten and the older kids would rather die than celebrate in class. As far as he could remember it, he had bad experiences under his belt. From his mom trying to throw him a fully vegan party that had been a flop with him and his friends, to his father getting drunk and forgetting about his birthday altogether, to the fact once he turned eighteen his birthday all but disappeared as celebratory day. 

“Mr. Mo,” a kid ran across the room, with glitter face paint all the way to his scalp. Max snorted at the sight, the parents surely would be over the moon about that, “tell Jess she can’t play with my toy.”

Vince frowned, crouching down to look at the little boy and Max frowned, staring at the scene. He couldn’t figure out this dude. Monacelli gave off military vibes. Football star, with his little homophobic fit the other day, driving that ridiculous motorcycle everywhere… And there he was, covered in glittery paint, scolding a boy for not sharing his toys and being fed cake pops by his little sister and her group of friends.

It just didn’t make any sense.

“Daniels, do you need anything?” 

Max’s cheeks burned as he realized he had been caught staring and he shook his head, as five little heads looked at him, as well as Vince. 

“No, just passing by.”

“Alright,” Vince waved him off, taking the boy’s hand and dragging him across the room to apologize.

It was a couple hours later when they met again. Max was smelling like bleach, after finishing up a biology class with the 10th graders, and ready to head home as he entered the staff’s lounge to retrieve his bag. He raised his eyebrows as he found Monacelli sitting on one of the couches, in the furthest corner, with his arms crossed to his chest and his head tipped back, as if he was asleep.

“Hey,” Max kicked Vince’s foot to wake him in case he was asleep, “day’s over.”

Vince wasn’t asleep — or maybe he was a really quiet sleeper? —  because he sat up straight with a groan, moving his arms to wrap around his stomach, “what do you want?”

Max frowned at the lackluster response, so unlike the man who always seemed to have his energy up, “school’s over, are you planning on crashing here? Maurice is gonna be locking this room soon.”

Vince let out a sigh, using the couch to push himself up and the other man realized he was a horrible shade of white… Damn near green.

“You look horrible,” Max said, taking a step back as he noticed Vince swaying slightly on his feet. Instead of denying, Vince simply nodded, bringing up a shaky hand to wipe the sweat off his brow. 

“Yeah, I know-” he interrupted himself with a soft, sickly burp. He didn’t bother finishing his sentence, ceasing every movement as he gulped down, only to let out another little burp and a groan.

“What’s wrong with you?” Max eyed him suspiciously. There was no way this man had caught another stomach bug after measly five weeks of having one, right? 

Vince pressed his forehead to the metal locker in the teacher’s lounge, seemingly devoid of any energy to put in his combination and retrieve his bag. Most teachers didn’t even put in a combination, everyone used the standard 0000. 

“Monacelli,” he stepped closer, despite wanting nothing to do with illness or this guy. It was just unnerving. 

“I’m fine,” Vince breathed out, but it would have been a lot more convincing if he wasn’t swallowing in convulsively and clutching his stomach. Stomach, which by the way, was pressing against his work polo. The guy wasn’t small by any means and Max could’ve told he had a tummy to begin with, but now it was nearly poking out. 

“Yeah, you look terrific,” Max rolled his eyes, walking to retrieve his own bag and deciding he was done with the whole scene, “feel better-”

He never quite finished his sentence, before Vince let out a little strangled noise and then rushed across the room, to the teacher’s bathroom. He slammed the door behind him and Max cringed in sympathy as he heard a muffled groan. 

Now he couldn’t just leave the idiot, right? Not after he had driven him home? 

Max carefully walked closer, tapping his knuckles against the door, “Monacelli, do you need anything? Meds? The nurse? Your mom?”

He expected to hear Vince telling him to go fuck himself, but instead there was a noise of liquid hitting liquid, followed by retching and more liquid.

Shit. Perhaps, even, literally. 

Max chewed on his lip, looking around the room helplessly as if an older adult would appear and take over the situation, but he sadly was the only adult. He looked at his watch. 3:40 PM. Office hours were over, the janitor and the security would soon be finishing their rounds and closing up the school.

“Dude,” he sighed, knocking again, “you kinda need to leave, they’re gonna lock us here.”

“Go away…” Vince groaned, his voice raspy and choked up.

Max scoffed, “are you crying?” really? “Mona-”

“I said, go away,” Vince repeated, much harsher now and Max’s mouth snapped shut, his cheeks heating up as his temper got the best of him. 

“Fine,” he said bitterly,loudly walking away,  “drown there, see if I care.”

Sadly, much to Max’s displeasure, he had a guilty conscience and couldn’t make it even to the parking lot. He let out a sigh and glared at the now empty parking lot. Only four vehicles left, one of them being Vince’s stupid motorcycle. 

There was no way the man could go home in a fucking bike.

“Moron,” Max groaned, walking back inside. He fully expected to find Vince back in the teacher’s lounge, so it was much to his surprise when they ran into each other in the hallway. Or rather, he ran, because Vince was frozen in place, an arm wrapped tightly around his belly and breathing through the nausea carefully. 

“Oh there you are-”

“Thought I told you to leave,” Vince groaned, not looking up from the spot in the linoleum he was staring at, trying to keep his stomach in check, “careful, or I’ll believe you give a shit.”

“Fever must be through the roof, you’re delusional,” Max snarked, curiosity getting the best of him as he stepped closer and raised a hand to touch Vince’s forehead. 

Monacelli was much taller, and bigger, so when he pushed Max’s hand away with an impatient huff, the other teacher stumbled on his feet.

“I don’t have a fever,” Vince scoffed, straightening up. He looked worse, more green and more drenched in sweat, “I’m lactose intolerant and I ate- I ate half a chocolate cake…” his gut let out an upset, whiny gurgle that was loud enough for Max to hear.

The blonde stared at him for a second, before cackling “are you fucking with me!?”

When he didn’t get an answer, except for Vince’s cheek ballooning with yet another burp that he muffled with a fist, Max’s laughter lessened down to a chuckle, his shoulders shaking, “oh… You’re serious? You’re in this shape because of some chocolate?”

He really was the one to judge, Max thought with a snort, remembering he’d be hurling much sooner if he ate half a chocolate cake. But then again, he wouldn’t be stumbling around cradling his tummy and whining. 

“What do you want, Daniels?” Vince groaned, rubbing a hand over his face, “I don’t fucking get you. I helped you, not once, not twice, but three times by now, and you’re still a dick.” 

Max’s chuckle died immediately, his cheeks burning, “sorry, should I’ve been bowing and kissing your feet? What do you want, cuddles and kisses because your tummy hurts?”

Vince raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “I’m really sorry you weren’t hugged enough as a child,” he said coldly, “but yeah, actually, I do have people who take care of me when I feel ill, because I’m not a fucking jackass.”

“Says you,” Max snorted, rolling his eyes and gesturing to the empty hallway, “where’s the queue to cuddle you? I don’t see it.”

“I know what your problem with me is,” Vince scoffed, pressing his back to the wall behind him and huffing. He was shaking, which was not a good sign and Max bit down the urge to ask if the guy was okay.

“Enlighten me,” he said instead and Vince folded in half, planting his hands on his knees and breathing through a cramp.

“You’re jealous,” he said through his teeth and Max glared daggers at him, his stomach dropping to his feet. 

He wasn’t jealous, he was… He just didn’t think Vince was anything special. Surely he was allowed this opinion? 

For example, if Vince was so great, why was he about to hurl all over the floor that Maurice had probably already cleaned? That was asshole behavior. 

Max mentally patted himself on the back, before saying loudly, “here, Mr. Moron, don’t hurl all over the floor,” and pushing a garbage bin in front of the guy. He didn’t expect Vince to make immediate use of it, falling to his knees and grabbing the metal bin with his hands, hugging it to his chest as a huge gush of projectile vomit fell inside of it.

He jumped back, startled, then tip-toed closer, feeling a new shade of shitty as he heard Vince let out a whimper and bury his head in, burping wetly once more and continuing to convulse and cough. 

“If you’re such hot shit, why didn’t you not eat the thing you’re aware makes you super ill?” Max asked, mostly to himself, hesitantly moving closer to plant a hand in the middle of the guy’s back. Even down on his knees, Vince was still pretty freaking tall.

Max patted his back in a hesitant manner, then cringed as he heard footsteps down the hallway. Curse both their lucks, Vince’s because he was about to be caught hurling his brains out, and Max’s because now he’d have to look out for the prick. 

He braced for Fernanda, the principal, or Maurice, the janitor, but raised his brows as the person who rounded the corner was no one he knew. The man was well into his mid fifties or early sixties, with wavy light brown hair and blue eyes… And he was really tall.

Max cringed as suddenly he realized he knew Mr. Monacelli from parent-teacher meetings and that the old guy would be expecting him to act like a lovable guy, the same lovable teacher he was when talking about Sophia or Livia. Fuck.

“Mr. Mona-”

“Dad,” Vince croaked, lifting his head for a slight second, “fuck- Fuck, it hurts.”

Mr. Monacelli all but ignored Max as he crouched down next to his son, planting a wrinkly hand on his back and rubbing in wide circles, “I got you, I got you. Get it up and then I’m taking you home.”

Max bit the inside of his cheek so as not to chuckle at that, “Uh- Hi…?”

“Mr. Daniels,” Giuseppe zeroed him, opening a small smile, “thank you for keeping him company.”

Sure. That was what he was doing.

“Yeah, uhm- Of course,” Max scratched at his beard, as Vince let out another sickly belch, bringing up a bit more watery vomit, and then leaned back, his head hitting the lockers, chest heaving, drenched in sweat.

“Babbo, I’m dying.”

“You should be,” Giuseppe glared at him, “what a stupida idea was that?” he softly thumped on his son’s forehead, “I couldn’t believe my ears when Livia told me. Cazzo, you’re an adult, Vincenzo!”

Vince frowned, looking pathetically close to tears, “babbo,” he breathed out, wiping at his mouth and clutching his bloated belly, “later?”

“Idiota,” his father scoffed, grabbing his arm and helping him get up, “Non pensi?”

“Dad,” Vince said a little harsher and his father stopped scolding him continuously, glaring at his son. 

“Let’s go home- Thank you for helping him, Mr. Daniels,” Giuseppe said, still oblivious to the role, or lack of one, Max had played.

“Of course,” Max said cheekily, following them out, “any time, Vince. I hope your tummy feels better.”

“Go fuck yourself, Danie- Babbo!” Vince cried out, as his father slapped the back of his hand, dragging him out of the school and towards his car.

“Don’t swear at the boy, he helped you,” Mr. Monacelli glared at Vince, “get in the car.”

“What am I, five?” Vince groaned, stumbling to the car and bracing against it, breathing deeply through the nausea. 

Max bit down a smirk, “Bye Mr. Monacelli,” he said happily, “bye Vinny.” 

Behind his father’s back, Vince raised a middle finger at him.

[honktraband01]

*rubbing hands together evilly & autisticly*

Alr so the Malevolent brainrot has grabbed me YET AGAIN so now I have to talk about it.

So we're starting with theories & Faroeverse stuff, because that's been all over my feed (thanks to @potato-lord-but-not) and we're specifically starting with short-sighted but fun "what if" theories stemmed from "Intermezzo"!

So Kayne mentions that he thinks that Arthur would enjoy meeting his daughter. My younger sib & I came up with a half-baked crack theory that it was a version of Faroe. I further delved into this, that when Kayne turns off the water in the tub, it causes a chain reaction. It goes something like this; He haunts her dreams and follows her from a distance, growing fond of tiny Faroe. When tragedy strikes, an accident killing her father, Kayne takes in Faroe before Daniel can get to her, and she essentially goes "missing". She then grows up under Kayne's tutelage (if you will) in the Dreamlands and other nondescript worlds and in-betweens where she grows to resent Kayne. Envying what she could have had with her grandfather as she loses more of her humanity as she grows older, to the point where blood no longer runs through her veins. She eventually uses the abilities given and taught to her by her adoptive "father" to straight up disappear from his line of sight, and starts going after Arthur(s), trying to find which one Kayne has devoted so much time to toying with. What she plans to do once she finds him, not even she knows.

I have a drawing of her somewhere in a sketchbook, but honestly I need to redo it. If I remember correctly, I had her in a double-breasted waistcoat with this big 'ol pleated tail, with wild, unnatural eyes and discolored claws. (I was trying and failing to lean into the "no longer human" aspect)

I'll continue my rant later, but here's a good starting point ig?? feel free to ask questions

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️ tell me more about Gerrard biting it at the murder mystery night!

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰ what’s happeniiiiiiing

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨���️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

Hey!!!!

30 for ☠️:

---

 “But I think someone commented on it being vegan.”

“Vegan,” Tommy agrees. 

“Vegan,” Matt and Mark from Harbor both answer. 

So there is no doubt in anyone’s mind that he chose the pitcher that was not supposed to contain clam juice. And still he died of an allergic reaction.

“Did your husband have any other allergies besides shellfish, Mrs. Gerrard?” Ransone asks Dorinda. 

“None that we knew of,” Dorinda says. 

“How quickly after he started drinking did Captain Gerrard react?” Ransone asks the party guests. 

“Maybe a minute? Two?” Eddie replies. “I don’t know. I was pretty buzzed already from drinking before the caesars came out. Time feels… Loose?”

“Two minutes? Less?” Hen frowns. “Really, I can’t say.”

“Could’ve been forty-five seconds?” Karen answers. “I’m not sure.”

“A minute and a half?” Buck guesses. “I wasn’t paying a ton of attention to him.”

“God, I don’t know,” Chim sighs.

“A minute,” Tommy answers confidently. “It was a minute.”

---

30 for ➰:

Tagging @steadfastsaturnsrings

---

He turns to see the kayak rack lurching, sending the top kayak sliding out, fast and hard onto the sand. It lands right where he was standing.

It would have hit him. Right in the back of the head. Buck feels a faint throb in the back of his skull and lifts a hand to touch it. 

“Oh my god!” Brittany shouts. “That was close!”

But Buck doesn’t respond to her. Instead, he catches sight of Eddie. 

Eddie is standing, a few feet away, arms planted firmly at his sides, staring. He’s just staring at Buck. His jaw is clenched. His eyes are big. He’s not really breathing. 

“Dad?” Chris asks, noticing his father’s frozen state. “Are you okay?”

“Eddie?” Buck adds. 

“How did you know that was going to happen?” Eddie asks. His voice is low. Accusatory.

“What?” Buck asks. “I didn’t.”

“You didn’t,” Eddie repeats. 

“I just… I had a bad feeling.”

---

36 for 🚨:

---

“We go,” Eddie says. “Together. I hold your hand. You grit your teeth. Maddie sees you aren’t the issue.  And then we bitch about them the entire drive home.”

Buck sighs. “Doesn’t seem totally fair.”

“It’s not,” Eddie agrees. 

But what is? The unasked question. Right. ‘

“We aren’t bringing Chris,” Buck insists. “I won’t.”

“Definitely not,” Eddie agrees. “I won’t even introduce him to mine properly.”

“Okay,” Buck agrees eventually. “Thank you, Eddie.”

Eddie smiles sympathetically. “I’ve got your back. You know that.” 

And he does know it. 

iii.

They do exactly what Eddie suggests. They agree to a single dinner. They dress nicely. They bring a side dish. Baked brie and fig jam. Something Bobby taught him. 

Buck reminds himself it’s all for show. For Maddie. For himself. But an insidious little part of him whispers a quieter truth. You still want to impress them. You still want their approval. He know it’s true. And he fucking hates it.

---

36 for ⚡️:

---

He’s not sure why this is so significant. It’s not like Bobby is doing anything different from what he’d normally be doing. Being friendly in a social setting. He’s just being himself; a happy, unburdened version of himself. Buck knows what the inverse looks like, too. But somehow, it is significant. 

A year and a half ago, when Buck first made the decision to cut his parents out of his life, there had been a sort of loss. Not a real one, but a psychological one. The loss of an idea maybe. The misheld delusion that one day things could get better, and he could have parents to celebrate him during these big milestones. That they’d want to. If he put in the work. If he could be better, be less explosive around them. Less sensitive. There was a long part of his life where the idea of getting married without his parents would have filled him with shame and grief and emptiness. 

He doesn’t feel any of those things today. No shame, no grief, no emptiness. He feels proud. He feels joy. He feels loved, fully. And he doesn’t feel like he’s missing his parents, in any way, shape, or form. He is not lacking anything with their absence. 

He feels like he has exactly who he needs. 

“Buck?” Eddie’s voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Hmm?” Buck replies. 

“You okay?”

Buck realizes he’s been staring into space, in Bobby’s general direction. 

“Oh. Yes. Yeah, I’m great actually.”

Eddie squeezes his knee under the table. “Good. I’m glad.”

Buck looks down the table at everyone who has showed up for them tonight. 

Yeah, there’s nothing empty about his life at all.

[catras-breakup-song]

im crying my fucking balls out i'm just out here scrolling on tiktok at night and baked and suddenly this bitchass motherfucking tiktok of people claiming catradora is abusive using s4 ep3 like LEAVE ME ALONE. I JUST WANT TO WATCH CATRADORA??? these people are making me sob because they're coming to the conclusion that catradora s5/post-canon = toxic and abusive because of this while ignoring the literal steps catra takes to change oh my god i'm going to eat the wall

i feel sooooooo tempted to drop a whole rant about how catra is portrayed as a villain up until the end of s4 where she finally starts becoming better and is on the side of the good guys and these people are failing to differentiate these versions of her/failing to recognize the differences between villain catra and rebellion catra. like hello is growth and change not a thing with you?? is redemption not a real thing??? "ohhh she said ilyiah but she hurt her so much!!" I cant take it anymore. Can you take it anymore?? I cant. how do i permantently block anti catradora tiktoks.

i know exactly how you feel, it stresses me out just as much and i get anxious about the next time i'll have to see anti-catradora content. often i'm not sure how to argue at first and it messes with me mentally to think that they may be right until i reflect on it more and sometimes consult with friends to get their thoughts.

without exaggerating, i've made this media my lifeline. it's what i look forward to when i'm bored or sick or having a hard time emotionally. i've never been so hyperfixated on any show for so long. not to mention, i take attacks on catra's character very personally because of how much i've related to her over the years. it truly feels like when they hate her, they hate me and would believe i'm irredeemably bad (which is unfortunately rather accurate to how people see punitive justice for whomever they dislike). my anger issues do not cope with receiving all this backlash very well. to be fair, i wouldn't end reality over it, but i can't say i blame her (joking... mostly)!

i get it completely and take this vent to heart by seeing myself in your concerns. but here are some things that i always try to remember when i feel overwhelmed:

1. no matter what else catra theoretically/hypothetically could've (not) done throughout the story, whatever was different for better or worse would never change the minds of these critics. they're dead-set on ignoring, out of hatred, the fundamental themes of the show (which is a kids' cartoon) about what traits hurt people need to be given externally in order to make the right choices and what drives their motives to either descend into self-destruction or grow into their full potential for greatness, depending on what their environment tells them. not only that, but fiction has much different standards for what's excusable or can at least be let off the hook easier, since a literal world war with soldiers under the age of 20 does not tend to be relatable to the typical target audience. if SPOP was meant to be portrayed as realistic beyond just the psychological & interactional aspects, maybe we all would be more worried about the stories we're consuming with the messages we're being taught, but that's not nearly the case.

2. if the fact that catra quite literally died and physically suffered at the hands of countless others in her life both before + after was not enough to mean anything, then they don't want rehabilitation ─ they want endless torture for their own entertainment, which honestly makes those hypocrites exactly like her but i'm sure they'd hate to be told so. the point is though, they're not worth listening to because they're approaching these "common sense" takes with bad-faith, and despite how that crowd is rising in numbers by "waking up to the truth", popularity does not equal righteousness. they neither know nor care about what effectively holding someone accountable actually involves as proper accountability is not the end goal regardless of what most of them claim. i may have mentioned before that these people never bring up ideas such as social exile or community service in terms of post-war; they just wish adora, shadow weaver, hordak, and/or prime had thrown her around more. i think that speaks for itself plenty.

3. i know the "media literacy" argument is overused now but they truly lack any amount and fail to consider let alone apply it to their conclusions, and will remember every single time she made life harder for others but conveniently never when she showed empathy and tried to protect them. although they're entitled to their opinions (i.e. "i just can't move past everything catra has done and believe she still had a long way to go before potentially earning a romantic relationship with adora but even then i still wouldn't support it"), the problem with it is that they force that bias into their analysis that they paint as an objective truth and end up willfully misunderstanding how the characters were written (i.e. "catra was always an inherently evil abuser who never once looked out for adora and therefore cannot believably improve, & adora was a pushover who was forced/pressured to forgive catra which ruined her own arc by sidelining/backtracking it").

i know that got rather long, but i hope it made you more confident & assured! if you ever want to write that rant, i'd love to be directed to it in the future (or you can always return to my inbox, but no one would know who the author is unless you come off anon)!

on a final note, i wish i could tell you how to avoid coming across catradora hate on tiktok but if there's a direct way then i don't know it. i can tell you to block the creators as you see them and not engage at all (even if it's negatively), or else the algorithm will get the opposite information and think you want more. that being said, it's quite easy to do on tumblr if you aren't already aware, you just have to filter out these recommended tags. also, everyone else is free to add onto any part of this post!

[mysticstarlightduck]

OC Fun Facts Tag!

Thanks for tagging me, @thecomfywriter (here)!!!

Let's go with Aelia and Emrin from The Crystal of Ash, and Tarah & Kye from Supernova Initiative for this one!

Aelia 🍂

She is the daughter of a man who once was the most successful thief and the most wanted man on the continent across the sea. Once he amassed wealth to rival that of most, he changed his identity and moved to the main kingdom of the story, where he posed as a powerful merchant and became a very influential man. Thus, Aelia both has thief skills and knows upper-class etiquette - as she was raised in both environments.

She is a wild spirit at heart, spending most of her time sparring in the chateau's courtyard, riding horses, exploring the woods, studying secret magic, and trying to learn more about the other kingdom, where she was born.

She thinks that Declan is endearing, though at first when they met he used to be concerned, a bit creeped out by the fact that she could sneak like a spider anywhere without being noticed.

She has a flying cat (those creatures are called Gryphers in their world), who is just as much a menace to society as her, and who adores stealing tarts from the kitchen because he knows he'll get away with it.

She has shown some talent for magic, though hers is a bit foreign to the local scholars when compared to the usual magic in Callonor.

Emrin 🏹

Emrin is considered an aberration both by the humans of the continent and the Levaethia, the draconic elves from beyond the mountains because she is of half-human, half-Levaethia blood.

She was taken in by a young Levaethian outcast, who had been banished by his tribe for disagreeing with their people's Way - since he believed maintaining peace with those invading their land would only lead to their people's death. He was a leader of a rebel movement, and along with his friends - became like siblings to the young Emrin, who was an outcast too, and taught her to be a ferocious assassin to any humans who invaded their land.

She's a talented archer, who rarely - if ever - misses her mark, and has a strong tie to earth/nature sorcerer, being considered a very powerful and dangerous Caster.

When she was around twelve years old, she saved a dragon pup from a trap. Much like her, dragons were seen as murderous monsters by humans and Levaethians alike, and so, after she saved the young dragonling, they developed a close bond and friendship based on that understanding.

Emrin loves wildberry juice and has quite a sweet tooth.

She blames her human blood for her being considered an outcast, which makes her alliance with the main cast very fickle, born out more of necessity than trust.

Tarah 🪻

She loves making woven bracelets with her best friend, it's their little tradition.

She's the daughter of a genius Junction scientist who had his life's work stolen from him and then found out the corruption the Director was involved in - and made the mistake of threatening to expose it. Which got him killed.

Tarah has anxiety and does not know how to properly interact with people she doesn't know, gravitating between a people-pleasing personality and a skittish one.

She has a love and a talent for learning languages.

She likes to gift people unique gifts on their birthday but often forgets her own. Not because of any self-esteem issue. Just because she is forgetful.

Tarah loves music but hates loud noises.

She has a big dog who follows her everywhere and looks like an alien version of a pitbull.

She is actually pretty good at baking.

Kye 🐍

Kye's "weapon of choice" against his enemies is poison, and he is an expert on lethal chemicals and the deadliest poisons in the galaxy. The reason why he chooses to use poison for his enemies is that poison was the cause of the death of his Dad (something that traumatized Kye deeply) - so it's kind of a way for Kye to make his enemies "suffer like his Dad did."

Kye is incredibly sarcastic and is capable of being a sassy lil' shit when he wants to.

When he was a teenager, Kye met Artemis Zreeth and they temporarily became best friends, but after an unfortunate string of terrible circumstances and misunderstandings, they went their separate ways and became rivals.

Kye hates the smell of roses - especially the artificial ones - and one of his triggers is the sound of platform heels (because his abusive mother, Eldora, used to wear rose perfume and platform heels)

Kye loves animals, especially weird ones, but also puppies and kittens. He really has a soft spot for cuteness.

One of his hobbies is embroidering, and his favorite designs to embroider are flowers

He starts out as incredibly morally grey and ruthless, but through his friendship with the main cast, slowly learns how to be kind and honorable again, while not losing his dangerous side towards his enemies.

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart, @ray-writes-n-shit

@writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers, @finickyfelix

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid,

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams and OPEN TAG

[thediamondcheezy]

Toon Analysis— Boxten! 🫧·˚ ༘

rarity— common

"Boxten The Music Box, Boxten is somewhat shy Toon. He is most comfortable around those he knows. He may not always know what to say, but he always tries to put a smile on a friend's face." —Boxten poster

✎·˚ ༘ Boxten has a timid personality often shown in his dialogue and his interactions among the other toons. often being worried and stressed, stated by Poppy, Rodger and Teagan being concerned about Boxten's well-being.

He is also being taught by Cosmo to bake, and it is also mentioned by sprout to shelly, and Cosmo also comments on Boxten's key spins while being focused.

Boxten is a big fan of Vee, commenting how he loves her trivia with his interaction with Vee; Boxten is shown to be annoyed with Shrimpo in their interaction. In both interactions, Boxten is shown to have confidence rather than being afraid.

"Woke up Glisten last night... I feel bad, had that nightmare again. I really am starting to think Astro might not like me? Hope not. He says he doesn't but I dunno the nightmares are pretty bad. Anyways Glisten helped me get a some water and talked with me some. Than he left for 'beauty sleep' at least that's what he called it? I'll talk again with Astro when I can." —Boxten's note

✎·˚ ༘ Inside Boxten's room you can see a note on his desk about his nightmare waking him up and waking up Glisten and getting water, then Glisten left to get his 'beauty sleep', and this interaction is also mentioned in Glisten's note, then planning to talk to Astro about his nightmares.

And when interacting with Astro, he is confused on why Boxten is receiving nightmares, being sure he gave him good dreams on their interaction. The nightmares aren't described, but it is theorized that Boxten dreams about floating in the clouds based on his skin, 'Cloudy Dream' implying he has a fear of heights.

Boxten often has trouble with grammar and mostly use informal words seen on his note.

Inside his room, Boxten has a poster of himself along with Razzle & Dazzle, Rodger, and Goob, suggesting that they may be Boxten's friends along with their interactions, and close to it is his poster.

And near those posters are crates, and on top of them are two spray cans that match Boxten's color palette, hinting that the toons actually paint themselves.

"One of the most common Twisteds you'll encounter. Overcome by ichor, this Twisted has the innate urge to chase others down. Thankfully, it appears that this Twisted doesn't have any abilities to aid him." —Boxten research

✎·˚ ༘ Boxten's Twisted form has two hands trying to attack you on top of his head, and applying my theory, then the hands may have been a clone of himself developing inside his head, and when attacking a toon, he falls forward and his head mostly leans forward because of the amount of ichor stored inside of it, making it heavier due to the added weight.

I think the reason why Boxten may have hands inside his head is because of his role as an extractor, as plenty of the twisted abilities are parallel to their abilities or roles as toons. Boxten's twisted form is shows that he is able to control the lid of his head while his toon version is closed off. 🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

PS: I DON'T support the dev!—

[writefullyrobin]

No spoilers past 1x10 if possible folks!

1x06 – Heartbreaker thoughts

It’s a 9-1-1 version of a Valentines Day slasher movie!

Isn’t one of the first rules of a first responder not to become a victim yourself? Buck and Athena obviously forgot that this ep because both wound up in sticky spots!

Firstly though, that was absolutely the worst proposal ever! Faking an air emergency? He deserved to be slapped after that stunt. How did he even get it into his head that this could be romantic? I’m glad Abby managed to catch what was actually wrong with the woman but how did she get through to her doctor so quickly I’m on hold for hours…

Chim is back! Yay! And they celebrate with a cake of his head with a rebar through it that made me laugh way too hard. Can you imagine working in the bakery that took that order? Props to whoever baked it for the set though, they should go on Bake Off.

I absolutely adored the scene of Athena practically drag racing through the streets of LA to deliver an organ for transplant while the most romantic soundtrack played in the background. I love this show’s humour.

Athena’s next emergency call out was where the real slasher fun came out. That woman was crazy. She needs some serious help. Ted, her date, was a complete dick – and how did he wind up dating more than one woman at once? He wasn’t that attractive – but he also didn’t deserve to be chopped up and then glued back together. It was disturbing.

Buck’s date nearly ended up with him on the morgue table too. Choking on bread? Chew your food!

It was very sweet how Bobby taught him to do his tie, and he’s his emergency contact. It does raise the question of where the heck is Buck’s family? This made me realise, other than that one scene at his frat boy party house where he currently lives, I know nothing about Buck’s family. Hen’s married with a kid. Chimney’s family has been confirmed to be in South Korea. Nothing about Buck’s though?

And even worse, I’m getting the impression Abby’s less invested in their relationship than Buck is. Her comments about Valentine’s Day and just wanting to put on some sexy underwear? Complete contrast to Buck who’s desperately trying not to fall into bad habits again. I mean, it’s fun to see the usual gender roles flipped a bit with the woman wanting a physical relationship and the guy the more emotional one, but it does make me wonder if they’re actually going to talk about what they both want from this relationship. They talk a lot, but neither have really discussed this point.

This was a fun ep. Love really does make people do crazy things!  

[silverwarewolf]

🥀 - Favorite unusual compliment? (ie "You're crunchy")

💎 - Favorite thing about yourself? (Appearance, personality, etc)

and

🎀 - What character do you feel represents NPD best?

:3

Yes, yes, thanks for the ask!! For the many questions!! I love answering questions!! Ask game here.

I have the same energy as a hamster who is being studied, sometimes. Which does tie into the first question.

🥀- Well, I love compliments in general. Surprising, right? (/sarcasm). But this is about unusal compliments. There's one that I have gotten textually which was "you need to be studied in a lab," and honestly, yes! It reminds me of that one scene in b99 where Gina has the attention of an entire group of professionals.

There's also the category of compliments that are normal ones but said in a freaked out tone. For example, when I mention some strange and unusual fact and people are like "you're so knowledgeable" but they have visibly been dealt psychic damage by what I just said. It's fun!

Last but not least, frogboiling. "You talk so much about [strange and unusual topic] that I like it now / am desensitized to it / think about it sometimes" is HELL YEAH from me. Alas, I suppose it starts to veer away from "unusual compliment" territory.

💎- I feel like a cat who has been given a sack of catnip?? Hello?? Mm, well. is it cheating when I say "my vibe"? Perhaps if I specifically say "being reliable / dependable / a role model," which I know I am.

I've taught people how to cook / bake. I've taught people how to paint and write and sew. I am always ready to offer good advice, an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, etc. I have very sharp senses so I can help people identify smells / flavors / sounds from really far away / who is walking nearby. I know various methods of healing! And uhhh I also think I'd make a great parent someday teaching so many skills - and singing, boy I can't wait to sing lullabies I know they would love my lullabies.

🎀- hmm! hmm hmm hmm let me think... i rarely retain information about characters who are canonically disordered, and there's also the whole "good representation" nuance aspect... not to mention that i'm sure my other disorders also change the ways i act, lmao!

all this to say that this comes from a personal feeling of "oh yeah it would be so tasty if this character had npd, they own it, i love it."

of course, shout out to my boy narcissus who was so upset about the inexistence of clonefucking that he died <- GREATLY EXAGGERATED SUMMARY OF THE MYTH at least the version i know

Okina Matara, from Touhou Project. Ah, I could ramble for hours about this series if given the opportunity, but I shall not. Instead, quote the wiki, she has no mercy for disrespect and graciously blesses those she favors, is ostentatious, prideful, confident, self-centered, a mastermind of incidents, has connections to MANY parts of the lore and mythology, and ultimately her first appearance was all about drawing attention and reverence to herself. Plus, she has a canonical connection to disabilities!

Yukari Yakumo / Maribel Hearn, also from Touhou Project. Ditto, I will mostly quote the wiki. She is a mastermind, has incredible intellect, very abstract and private goals, a facade of whimsy and deceit while also actively enjoying making others fear her, and is generally considered as someone who calls the shots. She also has quite the flowery language. Furthermore, as Maribel, she is othered for her tastes / demeanor / abilities, and textually calls herself a celebrity who should be indulged.

Asuka Langley, from Evangelion. Mainly Soryu, as I've yet to watch the rebuild movies, but from what I hear, they don't change her personality that much. Anyhow. The very explicit need for attention and praise, and huge dependance on her self worth (and others' acknowledgement of her worth) is very npd to me. Granted, given the nature of Evangelion, going in depth about the characters' psyches is... a complex venture.

Lapis Lazuli, from Houseki no Kuni. Oh boy oh boy I LOVE HnK, it has such WONDERFUL themes of body horror and existentialism and peace. Anyway. Quote the wiki. He has a charming, leading personality, extremely smart, curious, and at times manipulative. They have been called surprisingly deceitful (could conceal secrets for centuries). So yeah, I love him.

Ahaha, I rambled on quite a bit, didn't I? Again, thanks for the ask!!

[irregularjohnnywiggins]

So, since apparently I'm in a DC posting mood right now, you all want to hear this concept that's been baking in my mind for a while now?

Stephanie Brown is the same level of crimefighter as Bruce Wayne. Hear me out.

First, a common thematic reading of the Batfamily, especially the Batkids, is that all of them are in some way better than Bruce at one specific thing. Like with the equally broad thematic reading of 'All of Batman's rogues reflect a part of his psyche' this doesn't entirely hold up to scrutiny and doesn't apply to all of the Batkids, but it applies to enough: Dick is the better leader, Babs is the better strategist, Tim is the better detective, Cass is the better fighter, you get the idea. Now, normally when considering this reading the consensus for Steph is that she is the negative archetype, similar to how the Joker is interpreted in the rogues reading - an inverse of the common rule, in this case meaning that Steph isn't particularly good at anything. Some people who take this reading end this part with 'And that's why I love her!' - most don't. But I think that's entirely wrong, and to explain why we need to examine Bruce's own past.

In most versions of the Batman origin, there's a period, usually immediately or closely after Bruce graduating from either high-school or college, where Bruce travels the world, seeking masters of specific disciplines and learning all he can from them. The amount of people he meets is extensive - seriously, I have a word doc of 40 names and that's not even all of them - and later stories, particularly the Nolan trilogy, Batman/The Shadow, and IIRC Batman: Earth One, try to par that down to a single entity - The League of Shadows, The Shadow, and Alfred, respectively - teaching him all that is necessary to become Batman. It's not a change I particularly like, for one simple reason - the trek around the globe is as much metatexual as it is backstory. Like many of the prototypical superheroes, Batman isn't just one thing, he's many influences that Bill Finger brought to the table when creating him - he's a pulp hero like the Shadow, an adventure swashbuckler like Zorro and the Scarlet Pimpernel, a detective like Sherlock Holmes, all melding together to form our concept of 'Batman'. Having him learn from all these disparate sources - from ninjas and car thieves and magicians and detectives - seems like a way of acknowledging that breadth of influence, and I can't help but feel like limiting it to only Ra's or Lamont or Alfred takes away from that.

So, what does all that have to do with Stephanie Brown? Well, think about it - almost all of the Batfamily have only one real mentor - there are exceptions, like Tim basically becoming Babs' apprentice in No Man's Land and Cass' very funny shared custody situation, but mainly all of the Batkids learn from Batman, and what they excel at they were just kind of naturally good at anyway - Babs and Cass especially, no shade. With Steph, though? It's not as impressive as Bruce's list, but she learns general Cowl skills with Bruce, hacking and cryptography with Babs, detective skills with Tim, get fighting tips from Cass and Black Canary, is taught teamwork by Kate, evasion skills with Damian (that last one may not be purposeful), plus whatever else she can learn because, unlike the rest of the Batfamily, at least Pre-Flashpoint Steph was always learning.

True, Steph started out with very few practical skills in crimefighting, but you know who else did that? Bruce - every single time a comic or adaptation has shown him attempting to fight crime before the training trek has him absolutely suck at it. At the very least Steph never decided to stop her dad by attempting to assassinate him in a courthouse full of witnesses by veeery slowly pointing a gun at him, like Nolanverse Bruce.

Bottom line? If one more person says Steph 'isn't particularly skilled at anything', I will chew glass.