#there is much pain in the world but not in this club etc

[gwemmieee]

Yeah. I have a big bone to pick with women who go out of their way to gatekeep someone out of our club. Most of them are cis and straight, but trans fems who do this unfortunately exist. That instance looks like some disgusting hypocrisy to me, because most baby trans fems really emotionally lean on the willingness of this community to emphasize that you are your gender and you are valid no matter how many steps you've already taken and been successful with. That is a crucial, supportive message, and suppressing it in any way is tantamount to pulling up the ladder behind you. Which, yeah, every community has its assholes who pull up ladders.

It is also a tough line to walk sometimes for women, because most of us have learned that there are certain ways we can't entirely just open up to most masculine folks and let them into our entire lives and every space. Not without a lot of pain. So we are incentivized to wait until someone makes it clear that they're safe, before they're let into our inner lives more. This function has caused me SO much strife, because before I was accepted as a woman, it kept me outside in the cold, alone, really close to an early grave, but now that I am fully living as a woman, and even before I was doing that, my efforts to ignore this function entirely and just let any masculine person into my heart, my inner world, and my safest spaces, have not always gone well, and sometimes those efforts have backfired, made me unsafe, and deeply traumatized me.

These days, the only conclusion I've been able to find is that women need to work on what we recognize as red and green flags, for who is safe. It's pretty easy to see that the average set of red and green flags you see most non-queer white women adhere to are... crap. Truly crap. Delusional, not based in reality, etc. And that sucks because it isolates them more and it gives them more excuse to be really shitty to people, or to gossip about them in ways that really aren't fair to them.

Earlier in my transition, I still had it internalized that I had had so much trouble because I wasn't good enough, because I didn't do enough, and that's why women didn't let me in. But I was literally running around freely saying out loud that I was genderfluid, that I had no concept of manhood and little concept of gender, that I thought it would be cool if I was born as a woman, that I wanted other pronouns to be used on me, that I could be pretty gay/queer, acting pretty gay/queer, openly rejecting most masculine behaviors and modes of thought, constantly openly celebrating femininity, experimenting with gender presentation... I was a very queer little dude. And I've only been able to recognize that in retrospect. Because nobody let me in. Trans fems may have let me in, but they weren't around much in the late 00s and early 10s. I never met one. But I did meet and usually deeply connect with countless fellow eggs, before any of us knew. In situations like mine, trans fems generally didn't even get to find themselves until a bisexual cis woman took it upon herself to date them as a perceived man, and then recognize their queerness and allow them to explore gender with her acceptance and assistance. Because being allowed into womanhood was so rare and taboo that it had to happen behind closed doors as part of a romantic relationship. I was aro/ace, and I unconsciously looked to get the same experience out of a platonic friendship, but all I got was led on. Told I was a close friend but still treated like a stray animal compared to their feminine friends. Not let in.

Meanwhile, cis women, and fem-raised queer folks who at the time universally saw themselves as, yknow proudly not quite men at least, universally treated me like a burly cis man deserving of none of their support or curiosity and all of their suspicion and gossip about how "he's creepy." Consistently. Until I finally came out as a woman in 2022. And that's so 100% on them. They went out of their way to not see me for who I was and just keep me out in the cold. So yeah. The state of gatekeeping of womanhood is *bad*. And in my experience, most of it comes from people who had/have easy access to unquestioned claims of womanhood, whether that's because they're AFAB or because their transition into womanhood was really fast and made them really conventionally attractive.

But what about trans fems? Well, we aren't perfect with our red and green flags, either. It's hard to be. Personally, I've noticed there is a small contingent (VERY small) of trans fems my age who operate more like the old world transsexuals in that they really are truscum gatekeepers, often also ableist, and borderline psychopathic in the level of emotional labor they expect from you as a friend vs. what they're willing to put up with in return. And that is very unfortunate. My early transition saw a lot of them genuinely help me as incredible new friends, but then hurt me badly and burn bridges for no good reason. And I feel that there is a bit of a schism in the trans fem community between elders who usually just want to stealth out--who look down on baby transes and cringe and don't help us, or even if they do talk to us and help, there is still a very clear line denominating their actual friends and community that we never get to cross into--and the rest of us who openly embrace being queer and not assimilating all the way. But, frankly? Most trans fems I've met are the most welcoming and least gatekeeping folks on the planet. Most are that latter, queerer camp. And we operate exactly the way that we should: we let anyone safe into our inner world, even if that safe person happens to be a man. And some of us STILL see that backfire. And so even we can't be completely carefree. But we can always learn and grow and get better and better at what we actually identify as red and green flags.

wait where are all the trans guys

Historical-anthropological research, especially the work taking place before the 21st century or outside the West, tends to focus entirely on transfeminized groups. So when reading these works it’s pretty natural to ask — wait, where are all the trans guys? This is a reasonable question with a few clear answers; this post is something quick I can point people to.

The central condition of transfeminized groups' absorption into feminist activism has been to accept a kind of symmetry with select TME groups through the understanding of trans femininity as "gender variance." Under this framework, transfeminized groups' social position can be understood as a consequence of gender variance and some abstract violation of cis norms; this was proposed by people like Susan Stryker and Emi Koyama [1], among others, and continues to structure trans inclusion today. It also fails when considering several basic aspects of these groups:

Transfeminized groups are associated with hyperspecific labor practices, most frequently sex work, but also hair styling, drag, makeup artistry, acting, and other forms of 'gender work.'

Metropolitan transfeminized groups appear in the archive as highly clustered and active groups connected with, but usually intensely split from, the masculine men they fucked.

Transfeminized groups become a kind of 'third gender' on an epistemic level; they are Known to wider society before and after “coming out” in a way that USAmerican transmasculinity has only recently vaguely approached.

Transfeminized groups are heavily clustered in labor practice, social organization, and epistemic position, although this is not universal -- certain strains of USAmerican transfemininity have become a bit more labor-agnostic in the last two decades, not-so-coincidentally alongside more general currents of gender-labor liberation. The messy strains of trans male identity recovered from the archive and from current practice tend to lack labor, social, and epistemic coherence. As Aaron Devor notes in FTM, his 1997 history of FTM men, trans men in the 20th century tended to transition out of cities and into the countryside, finding low-profile places they could exist in. These practices, and the earlier "female husband" practices described by Jen Manion, relied on the labor-agnostic nature of transitioned manhood in order to disappear from public life. Transfeminized groups, on the other hand, are categorically restricted from the main form of economic life historically available to women -- marriage. Their labor practices are heavily constrained and have almost always revolved around some form of 'gender work:' as Susan Stryker put it, you need to get people to pay you for being a trans woman. Transmasculinity pushes away feminized restrictions on labor; trans femininity is labor.

Because transfeminized identities are so often labor-identities, and because their specific brand of 'gender work' and hormonal/silicone/surgical embodiment usually requires both specialized training and community support, nearly every metropolitan center in the world developed highly centralized transfeminized groups over the course of the 20th century [2]. As Ochoa notes, this visibility is partially due to epistemic visibility (everyone knows what a trans is), partially due to group structure (people work and train each other), and partially due to the selectively visible demands of finding clients. Fledglings come in with a way of being that is always already visible to society, but changing the body to match and learning how to fully enact and slowly contest the third-gender labor-identity they've been given takes a lot of community support.

So as labor-identities, transfeminized groups tend to a level of labor/community/epistemic coherence that has no clear counterpart. The news archives we have of trans men (as seen in Manion) position them as singular and easily absorbed back into the female gestalt; the cisgender feminist/gayguy/AIDS researchers that form the bulk of historical-anthropological work saw them as unnecessary to their grand theories of gender; the communities themselves have been materially fractured and, for the groups that rise out of lesbian-feminist activism, only partially committed to their own existence. The result of all this is that there is no clear equivalent to the "transfeminized groups" of Jules-Gill Peterson; there is no symmetry to trannydom, and while additional work to unearth trans manhood in the archive remains extremely valuable, sometimes the necessary level of label-coherence and social existence just isn't there.

[1] Stryker, "My Words to Victor Frankenstein Above the Village of Chamounix: Performing Transgender Rage," Emi Koyama, "The Transfeminist Manifesto" [2] As seen in Namaste, Invisible Lives, Prieur, "Mema's House, Mexico City," Kulick, "Travesti," Newton, "Mother Camp," Ochoa, "Queen for a Day," Hegarty, "The Made-Up State," and plenty more. Most of these works came out in the late 80s and 90s due to a combination of the feminist "third gender" craze, the burgeoning field of masculinity studies, and AIDS.

[juno-infernal]

unsure if every post on my dash rn is profoundly beautiful/insightful/funny/erotic or if it's just that i'm a little crossfaded and sipping a cocktail and singing along with a loud and indulgent playlist while i scroll. either way, what bliss

[girlgenius1111]

not what you think

barça x reader what are actually symptoms of a migraine and developing illness are mistaken for a hangover, unfortunately for r. alexia is not happy, and r is too out of it to argue with her punishment. fluff + angst ensue :) cw: mentions of illness, throwing up, etc.

-----

You felt awful. Sicker than you’d ever felt in your entire life. When your alarm went off, you wanted to unplug your phone from the charger and throw it across the room. There was a match this weekend, though. An important one. With a slew of injuries hitting the team, they needed you more than ever. And you were not about to let them down. 

This team meant more to you than you could express. They were the first people in your life to show you love, and care. Barça was the first place you felt like you belonged. And, for the first time in your life, you were really truly happy. You hadn’t realized, before, that you weren’t happy. You thought everyone felt the way you did. And then you arrived in Barcelona, and your entire world was turned upside down simply because, all of a sudden, people cared about you. It was amazing how much that could change in a person’s life. 

So, no. You weren’t going to call out of training because of a little migraine. Even though your migraines always preceded you getting sick, and trying to push through only made them worse.  You weren’t going to let anyone down. 

-----

To anyone looking in on the situation, anyone that didn’t know you very well, it would seem obvious that you were hungover. The team had a big win the other day, and a lot of your teammates had gone out to celebrate last night. You didn’t join them, of course, being only 17. You knew the rules; you weren’t to drink. You were lucky enough they let you live alone, and you weren’t willing to risk that privilege. 

When you walked into the locker room, sunglasses over your eyes, shoulders slumped, face pale, it was almost a deja vu moment. Pina, Cata, Patri, Jana, and a couple others had walked in similarly a few minutes earlier. Your older teammates took one look at you, and instantly came to the conclusion that you were, in fact, hungover. 

There seemed to be some unspoken communication between your captains, who fixed their glares on you instantly. Not that you noticed. You were too busy trying to drink water, hoping the throbbing pain in your head would lessen before you had to start recovery. 

That was the thing. It was supposed to be a chill day, just a quick workout to get the blood flowing, and then a lot of stretching. Alexia and Irene had decided, though, that the girls who had come in obviously hungover were to be punished. They knew what they were risking when they went out, and they did it anyway. So, they were sentenced to the regular laps. The girls were already outside getting started when you’d made it to the locker room, so you weren’t aware at all that it was occurring. 

You were confused, then, when Alexia approached you, a hard look on her face. It wasn’t how Alexia normally regarded you; it was known your captain had quite a soft spot for you, but the thought that you’d been out drinking was infuriating her, and she wasn’t in the mood to be kind. 

Once you looked up at her, she pulled the sunglasses off your face, throwing them into the cubby behind you with a scoff. 

“Up. Outside. Laps. You are already behind.” Alexia demanded, rolling her eyes when you squinted up at her in confusion. 

“Why?” You asked, voice raspy, which didn’t help your case at all. 

“Do not play dumb. Go.” Alexia said roughly. You stood shakily, and walked out the door without another word. 

You thought Alexia was angry that you were sick. You hadn’t thought it would be like this, at Barça, when you got sick, like it had been at your old club. Where you were expected to train through everything, and if you showed any weakness, you were pushed harder and harder. It appeared that Barça was just as you’d feared; too good to be true. 

You still didn’t want to make anyone angry, so you fell into step with your teammates, who all looked to be in varying states of misery, ignoring the confused looks they sent your way. They at least knew that you hadn’t gone out with them the night before. They weren’t sure why you looked so ill, or why you were running laps, but their own feelings of sickness were rather distracting, and they continued on without asking any questions.

You didn’t know how long you ran for. Alexia had said laps, and she hadn’t specified how many, so you supposed you were supposed to run until she said you could stop. The other girls eventually finished their laps, slowly making their way inside to join the rest of the team. You stayed out there, going around and around the field, practically a zombie on your feet. You felt so sick, so bad. You were surprised you hadn’t fainted, or thrown up. 

“Nena, enough. You can come in.” A voice called from the doors. You slowed down, practically falling to your knees, before you forced yourself back up. Your whole body was sticky with sweat, and your vision was weird. There was a blinding pain in your head, now, and you just wanted to lay down. You couldn’t show weakness, though. If anything, the state you were in only reinforced that message. 

You stumbled over to Alexia, accepting the arm she wrapped around your shoulders gratefully. She was still angry, though, still stiff against you. 

“Idiota,” she mumbled. You blinked a few tears away, knowing that crying wouldn’t help you at all. You tried not to be surprised that Alexia was acting in this way. It wouldn’t help to expect to be treated differently. You didn’t deserve it, and you shouldn’t have gotten used to it.

 “Are you going to be sick?” She asked after a minute, her voice still all stern and gruff. 

You took a deep breath. Strong. You had to be strong. “No.” You said firmly. 

“Good. Get in the gym, stretch, and catch up.” 

Alexia handed you a water bottle and gave you a gentle nudge towards the stretching area. You ignored the eyes of the team on you as you headed there, acting much more steady than you felt. Your hands were shaking, and the bright lights were somehow almost worse than the sun beating down on you had been. You were sweating, but freezing, as you began your stretching, the mumbling voices around you not meeting your ears. 

It was Jana that came to your rescue, approaching where Alexia was working on arms with Mapi, Irene, Marta, and Frido. It was brave of Jana, considering how angry her captain was with her for the previous night's activities. 

“Ale?” She asked tentatively, wincing when the icy glares of four of her teammates met her. Mapi was smiling of course, a sympathetic look in her eyes. 

“What?” Alexia asked, crossing her arms and raising an intimidating eyebrow at the younger girl. 

“Why is nena being punished?” 

Alexia looked at Jana like she was crazy. “Because she went out with you all and is hungover. Which we’ll be talking about later. It’s one thing to be idiots yourselves, but to drag a 17 year old down with you? I am disappointed, Jana.” 

Normally, those words would have made the brunette’s stomach drop. Instead, she was just more confused. 

“Nena didn’t go out with us. We’d never do that, she’s practically an infant. She’s not hungover, I think she’s sick or something.” 

It was almost poetic, how quickly you rushed out of the room after that. Realization was dawning across Alexia’s face, quickly followed by guilt, and the little group surrounding her was turning towards you just in time to see you bolt out the gym door. 

“Fuck,” Alexia muttered, moving to follow you out the door. She was stopped, though, by Ingrid pulling her back and shaking her head. 

“Ale, she thinks you're mad at her for being sick. Hang back for a bit, Mario and I will go.” 

The blonde looked like she wanted to do anything but hang back for a sec. Still, she trusted Ingrid, and what she was saying made sense, so she nodded her head and watched as the Norwegian walked out the gym door, quickly followed by Mariona.  

They found you in the bathroom, practically collapsed leaning over the toilet, dry heaving as there was simply nothing in your stomach to come up. 

Ingrid took charge of the situation, turning to Mario. “Get some water, and a couple ice packs. And tell the girls to stay out. 

Mariona saluted dramatically. “Yes ma’am.” Ingrid rolled her eyes, walking over to your crumpled form. 

“Hey, nena,” she said softly, stopping in her tracks when you reached a hand back, gesturing for her to not come any closer. 

“I’m okay, just need a sec,” you mumbled, before you tilted sideways, almost going headfirst into the wall. Ingrid moved fast, though, grabbing your shoulders and sitting down next to you. 

“Easy, honey,” Ingrid soothed, leaning you up against the wall and taking a closer look at your face. “What are your symptoms?” 

“No, I’m okay. Just help me up, I can finish training.” You insisted, although you made no move to stand up. 

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “No, tell me what you’re feeling please.” 

You sniffed pitifully. “Migraine.” 

The Norwegian sighed roughly. “Let’s get you home, yes?”

You pulled away from her, then, stumbling to your feet. “No, I can finish training. Ale is already mad at me for being sick, I don’t want to make it worse, let me finish training please.”

“No-” Ingrid began, before she was cut off by the frantic sound of the door opening. Mario had returned with some water for you, and Alexia had clearly lost her patience waiting, and followed her in. 

“Pequeña, I am not mad that you are sick, I am so sorry. I thought you went out with the girls and were hungover,” 

You were swaying unsteadily on your feet, all three girls watching you very carefully. “You aren’t mad I’m sick?” 

“No, of course not, nena,” Alexia replied, watching as your expression transformed from guarded and determined, to one that was terribly upset and tearful. You leaned, just barely, in Alexia’s direction, and she took her opportunity to wrap you up in a tight hug. It didn’t take long for her to realize you were crying into her shirt and she was sure she’d never felt more guilty in her whole life. 

“I don’t feel good,” you murmured pathetically. 

“I know, nena, I know.” Alexia whispered, frowning at the fever that was very clearly radiating off of you. “Come on, I’m taking you home.” She nodded meaningfully at Mario and Ingrid, who left the bathroom to grab your bag from the locker room. 

Alexia really only realized just how sick you felt when you nodded, resigned, and put up no fight when the older woman picked you up. 

You were practically limp in her arms as she carried you out of the room, eyes falling shut as you rested your head against her chest. You were clearly quite uncomfortable, eyebrows furrowed with pain, and Alexia decided to just take you right to her car; she’d worry about both of your bags later.

------

You were pretty out of it all the way home. So out of it, in fact,that you didn’t realize you weren’t being taken to your home until Alexia was carrying through the front door of her house. 

“Olgui, ven aquí,” she called. The blonde’s girlfriend appeared, the smile on her face disappearing at the sight of you. Alexia very carefully laid you down, allowing you to flop onto the couch. You were a little more aware now, aware enough to squirm uncomfortably when you realized you weren’t at home. 

“Ale,” you complained, the room being much too bright for you. You rolled into the cushions of the couch, hiding your face under a pillow. 

“What did you do to pequeña?” Olga wondered, moving closer when Alexia looked at her rather helplessly. 

“I made her run laps and she’s sick,” Alexia admitted. Olga smacked Alexia’s arm lightly, and the blonde rubbed it even though it hadn’t hurt. “I thought she was hungover!” 

“It’s hot out, Ale,” Olga scolded. “What’s wrong with her?” 

“She said it’s a migraine,” Alexia murmured, avoiding her girlfriend’s eyes as Olga glared at her. It was obvious that Alexia hadn’t really thought through bringing you home. She wasn’t good at taking care of sick people, and she knew it. Her worry had been in overdrive, though, and all she could think about was getting you somewhere safe and comfortable. Thank god for her girlfriend, who took charge right away, crouching down next to you and carefully pulling the pillow away from your face. You groaned in complaint, and Olga smiled sympathetically. 

“Hey, nena, can I feel your forehead?” 

“Okay.” You replied, sighing slightly at the feeling of the brunette’s cool hand on your warm skin. 

Olga’s eyebrows pinched with concern. “You’re really warm, did you take anything this morning?” 

“No.” You mumbled, pulling the pillow back over your face when Olga retracted her hand. At this, the brunette turned to her increasingly panicked girlfriend, listing off a series of instructions and things to bring to you. When she was done talking, Alexia ran off to the medicine cabinet, and Olga pulled you into a sitting position, insistently handing you water. 

You let the two women hover over you, making you take a fever reducer, put a cool washcloth on your head, and drink an obscene amount of water. When they were satisfied with that, and you seemed to be on the verge of smacking the next hand that came towards your face, Alexia decided to bring you into the extra bedroom, and let you rest. 

You flopped right out of her arms onto the bed, and Alexia softly reminded you to shout if you needed anything, before leaving the room. You almost instantly drifted off to sleep, not sure what time it was, but relatively comforted by the knowledge that Alexia would probably come check on you soon. 

------

You slept right through dinner, and though Alexia wanted to wake you up to eat something, Olga advised her to let you sleep the migraine off. So at 10, when you still hadn’t woken, she refilled your water, left a snack on the nightstand, and headed to bed herself. 

The blonde had been sitting in bed, staring off into the distance for at least 45 minutes, before Olga got tired of waiting for her girlfriend to talk about whatever was clearly bothering her.

Olga put her phone down, and turned to Alexia, getting her attention. “Amor, what are you thinking?” Olga asked quietly, bringing a hand up to the nape of her girlfriend’s neck and scratching lightly. Alexia was deep in thought, though she relaxed a bit when Olga spoke. 

“Thank you for helping her.” Alexia murmured. 

“Of course.” Olga said easily. She paused for a moment, studying the blonde next to her that looked, shockingly and inexplicably, close to tears. “What’s bothering you?” 

Alexia just shrugged, but gave in when Olga gave her a familiar look, one that told her to start talking. 

“You… you will be a good mother one day.” Alexia mumbled, cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. 

“Thank you?” Olga said, blinking at her girlfriend, rather confused. 

“I do not think that I will be.” The blonde admitted. 

Olga softened, leaning closer into her girlfriend. “Why do you think that, amor?” 

“I was completely useless earlier. I hurt her feelings, and then I didn’t know how to make her feel better. She’s 17, and I couldn’t do it. What would I do with a baby? I’d just mess it all up.” Alexia cried miserably, bringing a hand to her face to wipe harshly at her eyes.

Olga’s hand caught hers, the brunette using her sleeve to wipe the blonde’s face much more gently. “That’s what you’re upset about? That you didn’t know how to help pequeña?” 

“When I used to get sick, Mami always knew what to do and how to help. It came so naturally to her, and it comes s0 naturally to you. It is not like that for me.” 

Before Olga could respond, your voice called out from the extra bedroom. 

“Ale?” you yelled hoarsely, and it was obvious that you were crying. 

Alexia was out of bed like a bullet, sprinting down the hall into the guest room where you were. 

“Nena? What is it?” She asked, hovering over you uncertainty. You were laying on your back, eyes squeezed shut, tears running down your cheeks. 

“It really hurts,” you sobbed.

 Alexia sighed shakily, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Your head?”

 “Yeah.” You replied.

“I am so sorry, pequeña. What can I do?” 

“I don’t know.” You whimpered, in too much pain to really be embarrassed about how pathetic you were acting. You were desperate for something, anything to make it stop hurting. Alexia could tell you were beginning to panic, the pain in your head becoming overwhelming. 

“Nena, look at me.” She instructed. You blinked your eyes open, doing as she asked. “Do you need to go to the hospital?” 

“No, this is how my migraines always feel,” you told her. Alexia nodded, filing this information away for later. 

“Okay. Take a few deep breaths for me, yes?” 

Again, you blindly followed her instructions, breathing in through your nose, and out through your mouth. After a few breaths, you opened your eyes again, and looked to your captain for further guidance. 

“How long do your migraines normally last?” 

You thought for a moment. “Not longer than a day.” 

“I think if you go back to sleep, you’ll feel better when you wake up then, right?” She clarified, trying to look at this logically when she knew you could not. 

“Yeah, probably.” You mumbled back, trying to relax yourself back into the bed. 

“Good. How can I make you more comfortable?” Alexia asked softly, pushing a strand of hair out of your face. 

You were quiet for a moment, looking cautiously at Alexia before you shook your head minutely. “I don’t know.” 

The blonde studied you for a moment. “Yes you do. Tell me.” 

“It’s stupid.” You argued back, refusing to make eye contact with her. 

“Tell. Me.” Alexia insisted, poking you twice in the stomach. You jerked away, giving her a dirty look. 

“Can you stay in here with me until I fall asleep?” You asked finally, because the thought of being alone right now was overwhelmingly horrible. 

Alexia softened. “Of course, nena. That’s not stupid.” She slid into the bed with you, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulder, encouraging you to snuggle up to her. 

“It is stupid, I’m not a child, I'm an adult.” You grumbled, but you went practically limp against Alexia when she began to rub your back soothingly. 

“You might not be a child, but you’re still a kid. And needing someone to take care of you isn’t stupid.” Alexia insisted. 

“Okay.” You muttered, already half asleep. Alexia smiled to herself, glad that she could do one thing right, at least. It was only a few more minutes before you were properly passed out on top of your captain. Alexia settled in too, her eyes just beginning to slide shut when Olga gently pushed the door open, a completely adoring expression on her face at the sight in front of her. 

“No maternal instincts, huh?” She teased, moving to the other side of the bed to kiss her girlfriend goodnight. 

“Shut up.” Alexia replied gruffly, though it was impossible to miss the protective look on her face when she pulled you in closer, or the shy blush that lit up her cheeks when she looked back at Olga. 

“Goodnight, mi amor.” Olga whispered. Alexia returned the sentiment, watching Olga leave the room, her thoughts completely overrun with images of her and Olga, and their future. 

What was another kid to the one they already apparently had?

-----

soft but confused alexia :,)

haven’t finished flipped (ingrid x mapi x reader) but i did finish this so hope you enjoy ❤️🫶🏻

[taylormarieee]

~Entranced~ sam winchester

Summary: You were a belly dancer and a singer, when Sam and Dean had to investigate you because your sister had gone missing, he couldn’t help but be entranced by you. In other words, he couldn’t help but want to get into your pants…

Word Count: 3.4k (wowzers)

Pairing: Sam Winchester x WOC!bellydancer

Warnings: porn with plot, long ass story line, obsessed sam, wingman dean, enticing reader, mentions of death and demons, typical supernatural tingz, smut, sexual tension, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, pretty lady, etc.) pussy whipped sam, sam drunk off readers love, reader is in love with sam, creampie, oral (male and fem receiving), cowgirl, use of 18+ language, MDNI!!!! enjoy cuz he's been on my mind for a long time.

A/N: ok hey guyyssss! I’ve been fantasizing about Sam ALOT lately like specifically season 2 Sammy so enjoy this smutty whoretastic slutty ass fic because I was indeed ovulating🙏🏽😭😁

*thump thump thump*

you smile as your body and hips move to the rhythm of the song. you were dancing and singing your heart out. mostly getting hollered at and whistled at along with a string of cheers. you laugh and smile as you move to the beat.

all of a sudden you feel yourself being watched. yes, that sounded stupid as there were hundreds of people watching you but these certain pair of eyes were burning. you could feel it.

you look around and walk all over the stage and that's when you see him. a man in a black suit along with another hot guy staring the same lust full daggers your way as everyone else.

but the other one, his hair was long and such a luscious brown. his eyes held one of admiration, as if you were admiring the mona lisa at an art gallery.

you liked him. he was cute, sexy even and that you certainly couldn't deny. when you got done with your performance you asked one of the security guards if they could kindly bring the two boys over to you backstage.

"hello boys, anything I can help you with?" you ask as you wipe off some sweat from your face.

"how'd you know we needed help?" the shorter one asked with a smirk on his face as he steps closer to you.

"well for starters, your both dressed in suits, sat in the back of the club all mysteriously, staring daggers right at me and shall I go on?" you list with a smile on your face.

you shift your weight from one foot to the other as you glance between the two of them.

the both of them look at each other and then chuckle. "guess you got us there" the taller one states with his charming smile.

"what are your names again? and who do you work for?" you asked as you sat down gesturing them to sit as well.

"oh I'm detective roadkill and this is detective showers." dean speaks out with a smirk.

"were FBI." he says as your face scrunches up into one of concern and confusion.

"why would FBI agents show up at our little club, no ones done anything wrong I hope, one of the main reasons we have security." you say with a dry chuckle.

"no no, not at all, uhm were looking in to the disappearance of your sister melisa?" sam asks.

"I-I don't feel like talking about it. she's not gone, she's dead." you say with tears prickling in your eyes.

"how would you possibly know that? police never found a body." dean says.

"exactly, main reason why I don't believe she disappeared or it was some freak kidnapping. even if she was kidnapped, she's been gone for 3 weeks, what are the possible chances she is alive? hm?" you say pacing and throwing your hands about.

"I know she's dead. I can feel it. It's a sibling thing, you two wouldn't understand." you explain.

"oh trust me, I get it. see I have this brother. means the world to me and yea he can be a real pain in the ass sometimes." he says with a chuckle which causes you to giggle too.

"I love him regardless because no matter how much we argue, I know he means well and just wants to protect me." sam finishes.

dean looks at him and you hum. they really thought you were stupid. you knew who they were, you just hated how these hotties could lie to you.

"sam, dean. this was a really fun talk but I don't know where my sister is." you say smirking at them with their confused faces facing you in return.

"H-How did you-"

"how did I know? oh it's pretty obvious, see word gets around that some fbi agents are asking around for my sister and then I find out you two are hunters? yea I am one of the ones that knows what's going on around here. what really goes bump in the night. what really lurks in the shadows when your not paying attention. my dad was a hunter, just like you guys. just like your dad." you say circling them as you go to pour them a drink.

"wow, that was-" sam starts.

"smart? impressive? amazingly cool?" you ask handing them the drinks.

"I was going to say hot. That was really hot but you know, those words work too." he says chuckling.

"aww thanks sam, I really appreciate it." you respond as you take a sip of your whiskey.

"ok seriously, we wanna help you. If you really know what's going on then maybe we can still save other people including your sister." sam states.

"now did you smell any sulfur in her house or maybe saw black smoke or maybe she was acting aggressive and erratically before her disappearance?" dean asks scooting up in his seat more.

"uhm not that I can recall. she was normal. my sister was a kind soul, she would never even hurt a damn fly. I mean the first week of her disappearance I thought it was her douchebag of a boyfriend. ex-boyfriend i should say, that ungrateful son of a bitch." you say with spite.

"oh so was he a suspect?" dean asks.

"ofc he was! He was the main suspect, but it was also stupid for the cops to think I would kill my own sister, like that's insanity." you argue.

"alright so, if it's not ghost or demonic possession..." dean starts.

"then what the hell is it?" sam asks. all of you shrug and sit in silence for a second.

"hey I got a question for you." dean asks you. you look up at him and nod with a hum.

"you think sammy could stay with you tonight?" dean asks. your eyes widen and sam turns to dean with a incredulous look.

"no it's fine." he turns to you and says. "I don't understand why I can't just stay at the motel dean, what the hell are you doing?" he whisper-yells to dean.

"you've been making googly eyes all freakin' night, just stop stressin' and get laid. trust me you need it. your veins popping out." he says as he clears his throat.

"so, can he? It would be really appreciated, see I have stuff to do and I don't want him to be in there alone, so maybe he can keep you company? plus we have no clue if whatever this thing is an M.O. and might come after you too." dean convincingly explains which persuades you to say...

"yea sure dean, sam it's ok. I'm cool with it, you can stay with me, i've got a cozy house." you say with a smile.

"plus I gotta get up outta here anyway, shall we?" you ask swaying your hips as you walk towards the door and walk out leading sam and dean out the back.

they watch your ass and hips sway and that beautiful little outfit you belly dancers always wore. sam couldn't keep it in anymore, he was entranced. obsessed. lured in like a moth drawn to a flame.

"here take m-my jacket. you must be cold." sam offers. you smile and accept it with a thank you, after all you were wearing a bra like top that covered little.

your hand brushed his for a mere second and it felt like electricity surged through you both.

you slide your arms through the sleeves of his jacket as you walk towards your car. your keys jingling in the process as they dangle from your hip.

you unlock the car and prop yourself in the drivers seat as same props himself in the passengers seat.

"oooo it really is cold out, thanks again for the jacket sam, don't know what I would do without you." you seductively say, without the intention of trying to be seductive but thankful instead.

"yea n-no problem. just me being me." he says as you start the engine turning up the A/C and backing out the parking lot.

sam looks out the window and notices dean in the impala with two thumbs up and a smirk on his face to which he rolls his eyes at and begs to god you don't see deans childish acts.

~ TRENTON, NEW JERSEY, 2007, 10:26PM @ YOUR HOUSE~

"get cozy, looks like your going to be here for a while." you say with a smile, shrugging off his jacket to place on the coat rack.

he takes off his shoes and makes his way immediately towards your fireplace and your couch.

you watch him trudge over there and sit down his tall lean figure finally shrinking just a bit but when he sits back up his broad shoulders are back on display.

‘god what was wrong with you.’ you thought, you just couldn’t get him out of your head.

but luckily the same goes for him because you racked his brain since the moment his eyes laid a glance at your face.

you were so enticing and enchanting, of course a guy like sam couldn’t resist, he was whipped for you so badly and you didn’t even know it.

“are you hungry sammy? can i even call you sammy or is that a you and dean thing?” you ask bringing over a bowl of grapes and some wine for you and a beer for him.

“you can call me whatever you want- i-i mean yea! you can call me sammy i don’t mind.” he stutters out nervously

you him again and take a sip of the wine straight from the bottle. sam watched as your plump and glossy lips wrap around the top of the bottle wishing it was his dick instead.

he gulps as he watches your throat bob up and down as you swallow the wine.

he quickly takes a swig of his beer and you watch his Adam’s Apple bob up and down. you watched as he wraps his lips around the beer bottles top wishing it was your clit.

the tension in the room was clearly escalating just a tiny bit. 'was it just you or is it hot in here.' you thought.

you take another sip of the wine and tuck your legs under one another as if in a criss-cross motion.

"so, what do you wanna do now? dean said he won't be back for a couple of hours." sam asks.

"honestly I usually shower and go right to bed after long nights like these, but I wasn't exactly expecting company so i'm stumped here." you say with a slight chuckle.

"yea sorry to be such a burden." sam says with a playful roll of his eyes. you scoff not seeing his eye roll and take his statement the wrong way.

"look i never said you were a burden, i'm just confused on how to entertain a fucking hunter sam." you speak with slight aggression in your tone.

"look, i was just joking with you. If you took my statement the wrong way i'm sorry. I'll totally leave." he says getting up to go grab his jacket.

'n-no sammy wait. I-fuck. I didn't mean that, i'm sorry. It's just been a really long day and I'm just stumped ok, please stay?" you apologize.

"ok, if you want to go take a shower and rest that's fine by me, i'll stay.' he says standing quite dangerously close to you.

you inhale his scent for a second, his scent bringing you comfort and warmth. you don't even realized you closed a few inches in the gap between you two.

"w-what are you doing?" sam asks. his hands stuck at his side just itching to touch you. you take note of it.

"do you wanna touch me sammy?" you asks seductively. you glide your hand up and down his chest as you stare up at him with your seductive eyes.

"w-what?" he stutters out nervously. he gulps as your hand goes lower and lower.

"I said, do you want to touch me sam." you repeat your previous question. "I know you want to, your hands are twitching." you say smugly.

"fuck, uhm yea. I do, very badly." he says as he moves his hands to grab your waist. you moan at the warmth of his hands on your body.

"I know you wanna kiss me." you whisper in his ear. your on your tiptoes as sam is much taller than you.

you grab his belt to pull him closer and that was his breaking point. his lips are immediately on yours in a feverish and desperate pent up kiss.

you both fumble with his belt and trip over each others feet. you both eventually fall to the floor letting out a fit of giggles and laughs at your clumsy shenanigans.

"fuck, your so gorgeous you know that?" sam compliments. you smile and kiss him again.

"and your so handsome, thank god your parents got together." you say with a grin as you unclip your bra.

he unbuttoned his nicely pressed shirt and unbuttoned and unzipped his dress pants.

your both crawling towards the couch now, sam ripping off the cushions and you taking off the rest of your outfit leaving you in your underwear only.

pretty black laced panties to match your outfit. his eyes bulged out of his head at the sight of you. your body was gorgeous. everything about you was gorgeous, your personality as well.

"god damn your beautiful." he whispers as he sinks into the couch and you climb on top of him.

"thank you sammy. can you please fuck me now." you ask.

with a primal like growl, sam rolls you over so he's now on top of you. "oh sweetheart, gotta prep you first. don't think you can take big ole me by yourself now can you?" he teases as he kissed down your body.

after an agonizingly long trip downwards, his lips finally coming in contact with the place you've been wanting him most all night.

his warm breath hits your soaking entrance and his skilfully long tongue teases your clit.

"f-fuck sammy, pleasee-ngh- please just fuck me I'll be a good girl for you p-please." you beg as you feel one finger slot itself inside of you.

you moan out at the feeling. the feeling of pain and pleasure combined as he stretches you out. 'fuck you haven't felt this good since your last boyfriend.' you thought.

your brain was soonly erased by the feeling of sam's second finger entering your dripping hole. his lips whispering dirty things into your cunt as he licks and slurps your cunt.

you tug on his hair and cry out his name, how can someone fingers and tongue work so skillfully together at the same time.

"yes sam! right fucking there, fuck fuck fuck-ngh-ugh! yea yea, holy shit daddy!" you scream out.

he moans into your cunt at hearing you call him daddy. you were a lot younger than him, he was 5 years older than you. he loved this dominance he had over you, but he became feral whenever you tugged his hair.

desperate to get off as he ruts himself against the couch. a feeling of ecstacy washing over you and determination washing over sam. he was going to make you cum and then he was gonna rearrange your guts like never before.

your walla clench and tighten around him and he groans at how rough your tugging on his lucious brown locks. your crying his name out like a prayer over and over again.

you moan one last time before silently letting out a scream as you convulse and shake as your orgasm floods your entire body.

"oohhhh fuckkk!" you moan out as your orgasmic feeling washes away intensely.

"was I good baby?'" sam asks curiously. his lips stained with your arousal and essence. you grab his face pulling him closer to you as you kiss him sloppily getting a taste of yourself off of his tongue.

"you did amazing baby, now lemme help you. looks painful." you suggest staring at his rock hard boner through his boxers.

a wet patch on the front from his precum and getting himself all worked up.

you let him sit on the couch normally and tug his boxers down slowly. he whines when the refreshing air hits his tip.

his tip is a pretty color, a nice hue of pink. ready... waiting to be sucked and fucked on.

you lick the precum around his tip and on his shaft. you engulf his tip in your mouth wanting to get more of a taste and he moans. he watches your pretty lips engulf him and swallow him whole.

he holds the back of your head pushing you down further and getting lost in the haze of lust. he moans out your name a little louder each time you gag around him.

your throat was so wet and so warm. your saliva pooling at the corners of your mouth. you mascara surrounding the under parts of your eyes as tears stream down your face in slow motion.

your head bobs faster and faster, you gagging each time but you didn't care you wanted to taste his cum inside your mouth, you wanted it so deep down your throat that you wouldn't stop until he was crying.

you wanted sam winchester and sam winchester wanted you.

he pushes you off him quickly when he feels his release approaching.

"no no wait i'm gonna cum! I don't wanna cum like this, I want it inside you. wanna creampie you and give y-you babies." he whines out.

you smirk and kiss him softly, "ok sam. gimme all your babies, come inside me like a good little boy hmm?" you asks seductively as you push sweaty strands of hair out of his pretty face.

you climb back on top of him and sink slowly down on to him. you cry out a bit at the pain of the stretch, he really was a big boy.

"he whines and the grip on your waist tightens. you moan and feel his cock slowly piercing you more and more and the feeling of pain easily subsides once he's in you all the way.

"I'm going to start moving now ok sam?" you confirm and he nods with a hazy smile.

he's drunk of you. eyes and mind entranced by you. filled with you. he's literally inside you. he's encompassed by you, your smell, your words. everything.

sam winchester is a simp for you and there's nothing that could change his mind.

your bounces start off slow and then they rapidly speed up in pace. your both moaning and groaning, incapable of holding them in any longer.

you needed to hear him as he needed to hear you. he honeslt ydidn't think hearing you moan could get him any more harder but it did.

you were both close now, on to your second orgasm of the night while trying to get him off on his first.

"sammy I-fuck-ngh. I love you so much sam, please give me your babies please!" you scream out as you gush all over his cock. "come on cum in me please!" you scream out.

sam groans as his climax hits him like a wave, he explodes. loads and loads of semen just squirting inside you. you sigh a sigh of happiness and content.

he was filled to the brim with cum and it was just never ending. he stays inside you for a bit, slowly but weakly thrusting up into you to keep his cum inside you.

your both panting and out of breath. he smiles and you do to giving him a long and passionate kiss.

"hey." you say with a giggle

"hey beautiful." he says chuckling.

"wanna go upstairs with me to you know, rinse the night off?" you asks with a smile as you slowly slip off his cock, hissing as you do so.

before sam can even respond your losing your balance causing you to fall over. you grab onto the fireplace mantle for stability as sam gets up to help you.

he grabs on to your waist and holds you there before smirking and picking you up bridal style.

"let's go get that shower huh? and then you are going to bed pretty lady." he says with a smirk.

your face is flushed even more than before and your flustered before wrapping your arms around his neck and snuggling into his embrace.

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©TaylorMarieee| All rights reserved. Do not repost, re-upload, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own without permission.

A/N: Sorry to all the people who were in my taglist box and i never tagged you in my latest works, i'm so sorry i forgot to check it, I hope you all and others enjoy this one!

[schemmentigfs]

Req/idea: Melissa wanting to pleasure the reader, but she’s inexperienced with women? (Talking her through it, reassurance, building trust, etc)

Her First Woman’s Touch.

Summary: Melissa goes through a difficult process of self-discovery and acceptance to learn more about intimacy between women, so she can give you pleasure during sex.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of religious trauma, internalized homophobia, a single slur, body insecurities, smoking, smut. melissa might be out of character sometimes? joe hate club

Notes: This is long, but it’s worth it. 🤍 i wrote it with so much love, so enjoy babies.

Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti wasn’t insecure and vulnerable. She always was the rock of her social circle, the unstoppable woman who could handle anything thrown at her with a steady, unflinching resolve. Her demeanor was tough, marked by a confidence that rarely wavered. But lately, a huge doubt consumed her.

After years of feeling trapped by a label that didn’t define and fit her, she finally came out as a bisexual woman. However, this new freedom came with its own uncertainties. Now, being in a stable four months relationship with you, a more younger, captivating and more experienced soul. Her heart was racing as she thought about how she wanted to please you and be sexually intimate, but her lack of experience with women made her hesitant.

The painful memories of her college years flooded her mind again and again, a time when she had yearned to explore her bisexuality but felt shackled by her upbringing. Her parents, deeply religious, had instilled in her a profound sense of guilt about any feelings that strayed from their beliefs. Melissa always watched with envy as others embraced their identities, while she remained in silence, suppressing who she was. This inner conflict persisted long after graduation, but now, as an adult, it felt heavier than ever.

The memory of her father’s harsh words cut through her like a knife. “You’re going to burn in hell, Melissa Ann!” he shouted, his voice thick with anger and disappointment. “You’re gonna be the black sheep of the Schemmentis. If you don’t stop with those stupid thoughts.” Those horrendous words, once echoing through their small, cluttered kitchen, now reverberated in her mind, haunting her even years later. “Someone corrupted you, that’s not the daughter I raised to make me and your mother proud. Non sei un fottuto frocio!”

A knot tightened in her stomach, a familiar feeling of dread and nausea creeping in as she recalled her traumatic childhood. She remembered the confusion and shame she felt, struggling to understand why she was drawn to both boys and girls. It was a realization she had kept hidden for so long, fearing the wrath and rejection of her family. Every stolen glance, every fleeting crush on a girl, had been tainted with guilt and self–recrimination.

For decades she blamed herself for not being straight. For not fitting into the strict normal mold her family expected her to follow. The fear of condemnation had forced her to hide her true self, living in a constant state of doubt. The burden of carrying her secret had made her feel isolated and alone, as if she were the only one in the world grappling with these feelings.

In her teenage years growing up in a strict devout Catholic household, Melissa would often lock herself in her bedroom, her sanctuary from the outside world, and pray. The room was small, with a crucifix hanging on the wall above her bed, and a small statue of the Virgin Mary on her simple nightstand. The faint scent of incense from morning Mass still lingered in the air. On the days when the weight of her feelings became too much, she would kneel by her bed, clasping her hands tightly together, her knuckles white with tension.

But her prayers often turned into desperate arguments with God. She’d rail against the silence that seemed to mock her suffering. In fits of anger and confusion, she would scream at the crucifix, questioning why she was cursed with desires that didn’t align with the life she had been taught to lead. Melissa was supposed to marry a good healthy man and start a family of her own, wasn’t she?

“Dear Lord, why have you condemned me to this torment?” she cried out, her voice cracking with desperation. “Why have you made me this way? Why can’t you accept me for who I am? Am I so abhorrent in your sight that I must suffer endlessly? Tell me—am I so wrong, so irredeemable in your eyes?”

She paused. “And what about my feelings for both boys and girls? Is it a sin to love them both? Am I to be punished because my heart refuses to choose between them? Why must my own nature be a source of such unending pain? Why can’t you understand that my love for them is just as real, just as genuine, as any other?”

One evening, overwhelmed by the unbearable weight of her internal conflict, Melissa’s deepest frustration reached a boiling point. She hurled a wooden chair across the room, its legs scraping loudly against the floor as it crashed into the wall. The violent act seemed to punctuate her desperation, the chair’s splintering echo a stark contrast to her deep-seated pain.

“Why do you let Pa call me a dyke? Why do you let him say I’m an abomination? You know the pain it causes me! Why do you let him tear me apart inside while Ma pretends nothing’s wrong?”

Her knees buckled as she collapsed to the floor. The coldness of the tiles was a stark contrast to the feverish heat of her anger. One of the holy saints statues, a symbol of her faith, tumbled from its pedestal and shattered, its fragments scattering across the room.

The once serene face was now a mosaic of broken pieces. The porcelain, once pure and whole, now lay in shards, mirroring her own fragmented sense of self. The saint’s broken visage was a stark reminder of the purity that had been tainted by the harsh reality of her suffering.

“No! Not Saint Maria! Nonna’s favorite saint!”

The exhaustion was overwhelming. She felt her limbs growing numb and her head growing heavy. Her vision blurred, and the room spun around her. Despite her attempts to fight it, her body succumbed to the fatigue. Her breaths grew shallower as she drifted closer to unconsciousness.

As she began to lose consciousness, her lips parted, and a whisper escaped her mouth. “I’m just… a failure,” she murmured, voice barely audible. Her depressive words were a final, fragile admission of her internal turmoil. The words were soaked in the weight of her self-loathing and the pain of feeling misunderstood and rejected.

The door creaked open slightly, and Kristin Marie peeked into the old bedroom, her wide eyes searching for her older sister. She saw Melissa sprawled on the floor, her form partially obscured by the scattered shards and a amount of blood. Her innocent curiosity was momentarily replaced by concern, but the sight of her stillness made her stop.

“Sister Mel is sleepy,” she giggled, her words full of poor miscomprehension. The toddler turned to leave, deciding to give her sister the rest she seemed to need. “Play later!”

Hours later, Melissa slowly stirred, her head throbbing with a dull ache. As she tried to sit up, she felt a sticky warmth on her forehead. She reached up, her fingers coming away covered in a faint crimson. Groaning softly, she touched the spot gingerly and winced as the pain intensified.

“Son of a bitch...”

Gazing at the mess and determined to salvage what was left, she carefully gathered the shards of the broken statue, her hands shaking slightly. She meticulously cleaned the pieces, placing them in a small box as though they were precious remnants of something sacred. And pretended that nothing happened. It was now her dirty little secret.

One that Melissa would keep with her until her death.

Every family gathering, every holiday, was a reminder of how different she felt, how she didn't belong. The Schemmentis prided themselves on their strong values, and she felt like an outlier, a blemish on their perfect image. The weight of her father's words and her mother’s neglecting was a constant reminder of the expectations she could never meet the acceptance Melissa feared she would never find. The poor woman’s siblings, although supportive of their sister, stood in silence, afraid of going against their beloved ma and pa.

In the midst of this stifling environment as life continued, the older woman remained in complete denial. At work, she kept her personal life carefully hidden. Even though her closest colleagues sensed her discomfort and unease, they never pried. She wore her public mask of professionalism and cheerfulness, but beneath it, she was struggling with her own truths.

Becoming a tough woman and pretending to just be heterosexual, a role she embraced, took a significant toll on her mental being. This strength she presented to the world was both a shield and a cage. The weight to maintain this image meant suppressing her vulnerabilities and emotions, leading to a constant internal battle. Her moments of solitude were marked by a deep, unspoken sadness as she grappled with isolation.

The persona she projected often felt like a lie, one that she had to uphold despite the emotional exhaustion it caused. Her mental health suffered as she became increasingly disconnected from her true self. Not recognizing herself anymore.

Melissa’s failed marriage with Joe was a constant reminder of the life she had tried to conform to but never truly belonged to.

That seemed to change when Ava hired you as the new teacher to take third-grade class. You brought a warmth and openness that cut through the fiery redhead’s worst barriers, sparking a connection she had not anticipated. As your friendship deepened into something more, she found herself struggling with feelings she had long suppressed. Despite her growing affection for you, she hesitated to cross the line into physical intimacy.

This vulnerability and insecurity consumed her every single second. As she lay in her king-sized bed on a Friday night after a busy day at school, she couldn’t help but replay every moment of your relationship in her mind. She worried constantly about whether she was good enough for you, fearing she might be making you impatient due to her reluctance to have sex. The fear of disappointing you gnawed at her, and she found herself staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. She ached with the desire to connect with you on a deeper level, to show you just how much she cared, but the uncertainty held her back.

Each night, as she lay next to you in your complex apartment, the older woman would often find herself tracing the gentle curves of your sleeping body with her fingertips, memorizing the softness of your skin under her touch. You were a source of warmth and safety, still every time she opened her mouth to voice her fears, the words lodged in her throat. It was a silent battle, one that filled her with shame and frustration. Melissa felt as if she was a stranger in her own body, struggling to reconcile her desires with her reality.

You had been nothing but patient, reassuring her multiple times that there was no rush at all, that love was about connection and trust. Even amidst your understanding, a humiliation consumed her. How could she be almost fifty four and still feel so unprepared for something natural like that? The shame burned fiercely in her chest, a constant reminder of her late blooming, leaving her wondering if she could ever truly satisfy you in the ways you deserved.

“Santo cielo. I can’t do this I fuckin’ can’t.” Melissa cursed, tears threatening to fall into her green eyes. Why was this so damn complicated? The internal struggle felt unbearable, as if a storm was about to explode inside her. It consumed her, and even surrounded by understanding, the pressure of everything was overwhelming.

Turning her head toward the mirror, she stared at her reflection. The image staring back at her was a woman trapped between two worlds. On one side was the freedom she had found in accepting her sexuality, a liberation she had long yearned for. On the other hand, the harsh reality of her insecurities loomed large, amplified by her constant comparisons to others who seemed so much more experienced and confident. The weight of her inexperience made her feel small and inadequate.

She sat up in bed, wiping at her eyes angrily. “Fuck this, Schemmenti,” she muttered. The words came out as a broken whisper, a desperate plea to herself, but the self-reproach did little to ease the turmoil inside her. The tears came anyway, hot and unchecked, as she let out a shuddering breath. She needed to find a way to talk to you, to bridge the gap that her disquiet had created. But the question remained—could she overcome her past and embrace the love she had found with you? She wanted to explore, to learn, to share everything with you, but the fear of failing paralyzed her.

“There are so many things I still don’t understand,” the redhead continued, her voice choking, as if she was waiting for someone to answer her. “So many things that I need to explore. And I keep getting lost in doubts. It’s not fair to you, baby. It’s not fair to me either.”

Melissa let out a long, weary sigh as she sank into the soft embrace of the sheets once again, curling up into a tight ball of self–deprecation. The emptiness of the bedroom started to swallow her figure, a stark contrast to the comfort and safety she used to feel. She stared at the empty space beside her, her gaze tracing the outlines of the pillow and the indentations where you lain on weekends. The walls of the room, once so familiar, now seemed cold and distant, offering little solace from the storm of emotions inside her.

Memories of happy times with you surfaced, fleeting but powerful, when she would catch you looking at her with tenderness, and such understanding, that it felt like the world stopped spinning. In those moments, her apprehension would momentarily dissipate, replaced by the warmth of your company and gaze. She remembered how you would gently reassure her, your voice a soothing balm to her restless state.

I know I’m your first woman; that means everything to me.

I’ll be gentle, just take your time. You’re safe with me.

Your reassurances helped—sometimes. When you’d say things like those, a part of her believed you, trusted in your kindness. But another part of her couldn’t stop the flood of negativity, couldn’t shut out the fear that she would disappoint you, that she was fumbling through something too precious to ruin.

You’ll never be enough for her, Melissa. You’ve never done this before. She’ll get tired of waiting for you to figure it out. You’ll embarrass yourself.

You’re fumbling, and she’s just being nice. She’s just waiting for the moment she can walk away.

You’re too old for this. You’re too slow, too clumsy. She can do better. She will do better.

“Mi dispiace amore mio, sono un codardo,” she yelled punching the mattress with her fist.

That Friday, she cried until she fell asleep. Exhausted, her salty tears wet the pillow, and silent sobs shook her body as she tried, in vain, to calm the storm of emotions built up inside her. The deep need to feel confident and equal to the love you gave her. And as a troubled sleep finally embraced her, Melissa felt a small relief. The crying, in a way, had been a step towards releasing the feelings that tormented her.

Was she really a coward that would never face her fears?

What were you doing with an old lady like her who didn’t know anything?

Wouldn’t it just be better if you left her?

Over the weekend, the older woman was relaxing on the plastic couch in her living room, a glass of red wine resting in her right hand as she puffed away at a cigarette. The soft lights created a welcoming atmosphere, and the sound of the television, playing Celebrity Jeopardy, filled the space with a comfortable familiar distraction. She was distracted, but her mind was away from the entertainment, deep in thoughts about what she had just watched and what she still needed to do. Melissa watched the show's contestants, her eyes scanning the confident faces on the screen.

She looked at her cigarette, which was almost finished, and let it go out in the ashtray. Her old cigarette addiction had become a metaphor for her deepest insecurities — a habit that was difficult to break, but one that constantly reminded her of her challenges and rage. Each ember that dimmed seemed to echo the older woman's own struggles, a poignant reminder of the destructive patterns she fought to escape. The acrid smell lingered, an olfactory ghost of her past, stubbornly clinging to her clothes and her very soul. With a heavy sigh, she flicked the ash and resolved to confront the parts of herself she had long tried to ignore.

She leaned back into the couch, closing her eyes and taking another sip of wine. The warmth of the alcohol spread through her chest, loosening some of the tension. She knew she needed to do something, to find a way to overcome her fears and insecurities. But where to start? And how to reach information? The idea of opening up about her feelings, of admitting her lack of experience, felt terrifying since she hated to show any sign of weakness.

“Maybe I should do some research?” Melissa thought aloud, the idea dawning on her slowly. It sounded ridiculous at first, but the more she considered it, the more it made sense. She had always been someone who liked to be prepared, to have all the information before making a decision. This situation was no different. If she wanted to feel more confident, she needed to educate herself.

As the edition of Celebrity Jeopardy on the TV ended, replaced by a late-night talk show, Melissa stood up and stretched, feeling the tension ease from her muscles. She walked over to the windows, looking out at the night sky. The stars twinkled brightly, a reminder that the world was vast and full of possibilities. She smiled softly to herself, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

The redhead raised another cigarette to the empty room, striking a match with a soft scratch. As the flame illuminated the dark space for a moment, she took a deep drag, letting the smoke curl up around her. “To new beginnings, for me, for Y/n. To us,” she whispered, voice barely above a murmur. The words hung in the air, resonating in the quiet of the room. It wasn’t a perfect solution, and she knew doubts and fears would still linger. But it was a step in the right direction. As the TV continued to hum, Melissa felt a small flicker of hope. She might not have all the answers, but at least she was ready to start looking for them.

Over the next few days and weeks, on several sleepless nights, the teacher searched on Google. How to navigate a same-sex relationship when you’re inexperienced? she typed, pressing enter before she could second-guess herself. As the results loaded, she skimmed through the titles. There were so many women who had been in her shoes, who had felt the same insecurities and fears at one moment of their lives. With each click, she felt more intrigued and amazed as she noticed the many different options for how she could give and receive pleasure. Articles, videos, forums—an entire world unfolded before her, revealing nuances she had never considered or imagined. She read article after article, watched educational videos, and even ventured into The Womanizer and Quinn blogs where women shared their intimate experiences and advice. The sheer variety of ways to connect and pleasure each other was both overwhelming and fascinating to her.

As she read through personal stories and advice columns, Melissa felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation. She took notes, bookmarked pages, and even found herself blushing at some of the more detailed descriptions. It was a strange, exhilarating education that left her feeling more informed but still uncertain. The more she learned, the more she realized how much she didn't know. And as she delved deeper into this research, she began to realize that the key was not just in techniques, but in communication and emotional connection. The Sicilian woman recalled how your soft touches and kind words made her feel safe and wanted. Perhaps the most important thing would be to bring that same security and desire to both of you.

After weeks of diving into intense research, Melissa found herself at a crossroad. Each day spent pouring over books, articles, and seeking advice had only heightened her awareness of her inexperience. The redhead made a heartfelt promise to herself, one that resonated deeply within her. She resolved that rather than allowing her fears and uncertainties to overshadow her, she would harness the insights she had gained to fortify the bond between you. This wasn’t just about confronting her own apprehensions; it was about opening her heart fully and trusting you in ways she had never allowed herself before.

She envisioned a future where both of you could explore and embrace the full spectrum of love and connection. Melissa understood that the path ahead would not be without its challenges. It would require patience, understanding, and a willingness to be vulnerable. Although, she was committed to embarking on this journey with you. She was prepared to face her worst fears head-on and let the promise of love and trust guide her.

—

“C’mon. It shouldn’t be that hard, stop being a pussy.” The redhead huffed, walking through the busy streets and holding a small pamphlet with an address on it. Pushing herself forward. The words were meant to be a pep talk, but they came out more as a grumble. Dressed in a black leather jacket, her left hand buried deep in her pocket gripping her keys so tightly that the cold metal dug into her palm. While the right clutched the paper, she cut a confident figure. But inside, she felt like a terrified kid again.

On this afternoon, Melissa found herself standing outside a cozy queer café in Philadelphia. The establishment’s large windows framed a warm, inviting interior filled with plush armchairs, bookshelves, vases of plants and soft lighting. A sign with an impeccable handwriting on the door read Sapphic Women’s Discussion Group. All Welcome! The vibrant façade, adorned with rainbow flags and welcoming posters promoting LGBTQ+ events, felt inviting and intimidating.

She was resting on the door handle. The intrusive thought of turning around, retreating to the safety of her car, and forgetting this whole idea crossed her mind. For years, Melissa had thought about walking into a place like this, spaces that welcomed women like her, women who loved other women—but she never imagined she’d actually do it. Not at her age, not after a life of silence and denial.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods enveloping her.

“Here goes nothin’,” The Italian redhead said with a hint of sarcasm, her South Philly accent wry and unmistakable. “I swear if anyone makes funny of me, I’ll fucking ran away–”

Inside, the atmosphere was lively but casual. Women of various ages and backgrounds were seated at tables, engaged in conversations. Laughter and the hum of voices filled the air, creating a sense of community and belonging. The older woman spotted a table in the corner with a small group of women and made her way over, hoping to blend in while still taking in the atmosphere and aura. The table she chose was adorned with a simple centerpiece of fresh flowers, next to a hand-drawn menu filled with witty drink names like Sappho’s Latte and Audre’s Espresso.

“Mind if I sit here?” she asked, her voice betraying just a hint of nervousness.

They nodded, murmuring polite welcomes, and she sat down, smoothing her jacket out of habit. Just as she was settling in, a woman in her mid-thirties approached, a friendly smile lighting up her face. She had short, dark hair that fell naturally across her forehead, and her denim jacket was covered with pins advocating for various causes—pride flags, feminist slogans, and more. There was something about her presence that radiated both strength and warmth, an unspoken understanding in her eyes that seemed to invite openness.

“Hey, you’re new here, right? I’m Jules. Can I join you?”

She managed a small, nervous smile and shifted her gaze downward, politely giving her a clumsy handshake. “Sure, it’s my first time being here. I’m Melissa.”

Jules took a seat and leaned back, her presence somehow instantly putting her at ease. “So, what brings you here today?”

Melissa took a deep breath. It wasn’t easy to open up about something so personal, especially to a place full of strangers, but something about the atmosphere in the shop made her feel safe enough to try.

“Recently, I came out as bisexual,” the older woman began, trembling. “It took me years to figure it out...or maybe I knew all along, but I was just too scared to accept it because of, you know... religious guilt and family trauma.”

“That’s a huge step, Mel. Coming out, especially after carrying something like that for so long... It’s not easy. You’re brave for even being here.”

Encouraged by understanding, she continued, though her words still came out haltingly. “I.. I’m in a relationship now, with a younger woman. She’s amazing, and I really care about her. But I’ve never been intimate with a woman before, and I... I’m so scared. I want to pleasure her, make her feel good, but I don’t know where to start. I was afraid to come here and open up about this. I thought... I thought people might laugh at me or think I’m not ‘really’ bi because I’ve never done it before.”

Jules reached across the table and placed her hand on Melissa’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring pat. “You’re definitely not alone in feeling that way. A lot of us have been where you are now. It’s completely normal to feel nervous, especially when it’s all so new. But what’s important is that you’re here, willing to learn and grow.”

The green eyed woman felt a lump forming in her throat.

“I was married too," she confessed, tinged with bitterness and pain. “My ex-husband, Joe… he was a dickhead. He was always drunk, and he cheated on me more times than I can count. I stayed with him ‘cause I thought it was the ‘right’ thing to do, you know? Because of my family, because of my faith… But it was killing me inside. I was miserable, and it took me a long time to realize that I deserved better.”

“I’m sorry you went through that,” the youngest said sincerely. "No one deserves to be treated that way. But you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

As they spoke, Jules gave a subtle signal to a few women seated nearby. One by one, they began to gather around, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and encouragement. They formed a small semicircle, their presence a quiet testament to the power of community. Each woman seemed to carry her own story, her own struggles and triumphs, but there was no judgment here—only acceptance.

One of the women, a young woman with thoughtful eyes, spoke up first. “You know, sometimes the most important thing is to listen and learn without rushing. Every relationship is different. What works for one couple might not work for another.”

Another woman, slightly older, nodded in agreement. “And balancing personal space with intimacy is key. You have to be able to communicate openly about your needs and boundaries.”

Melissa nodded, absorbing their words like a sponge. The advice was practical, yes, but it was the honesty and openness in their voices that struck her most. They weren’t just talking at her—they were sharing pieces of themselves.

The conversation continued, flowing naturally between experiences of first loves, heartbreaks, and everything in between. They discussed how vital it was to take things slow, to be attuned to each other’s needs, to ask questions, and most of all, to approach intimacy with openness and care. Each woman offered something unique, from personal tips to deeply felt wisdom, and by the time the gathering wound down, Melissa felt an overwhelming sense of relief and empowerment.

As the women began to disperse, exchanging hugs and goodbyes, Melissa stood up from the table, feeling lighter than when she had walked in. Jules caught her eye one last time, giving her a reassuring nod.

“You’ve got this, Mel. Just remember to trust yourself, okay?”

She smiled, a genuine warmth spreading across her face for the first time that evening. “Thank you… really.”

As she stepped outside, the sun still hung low in the sky, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. For the first time in a long while, she felt hopeful. She wasn’t just carrying the weight of her past anymore—she was moving forward, armed with the knowledge, support, and confidence she’d gained from this little café and the women who had opened their hearts to her.

Melissa was ready to take the next steps in your relationship.

—

Wednesday was different for Melissa. From the moment she woke up, she could feel the weight of anticipation pressing down on her chest. After dropping her second graders—whom she affectionately called her “little eagles”—off at the gym for physical education, her day should have felt like any other. But instead, her mind raced, a nervous buzz thrumming beneath her skin. She spent the rest of the morning mentally rehearsing what she planned to say, her palms growing sweaty each time she replayed the words in her head.

By the time the lunch bell rang, her resolve had formed, but her body still trembled as she made her way to the cafeteria. She spotted you immediately, seated at a table with Jacob and Janine. The three of you were deep in discussion, laughing about the success of the recent library program project. The sound of your laughter, bright and carefree, made Melissa’s heart flutter. It grounded her, reminding her of why she wanted to do this in the first place.

But as she approached, her heart raced, and the familiar anxiety crept back in. What if she said the wrong thing? What if you didn’t want the same things she did? She had planned something special for the two of you tonight, something that would show you just how much she cared. She just hoped she wouldn’t trip over now that she was so close to making it real.

You were in the middle of recounting a funny story about one of your students when your gaze shifted, and you saw her walking toward the table. Instantly, your surroundings blurred; the laughter and conversation between Jacob and Janine faded into a distant hum as your focus zeroed in on her. Melissa wasn’t often nervous, but there was something in the way she carried herself now—vulnerable yet brave—that made your heart swell with affection.

She hesitated for a moment, standing a few feet away. Her green eyes flicked to the floor as though she was searching for the right words. Her hands, you noticed, were fidgeting at the hem of her blouse, tracing the fabric as if seeking comfort. She drew in a breath before speaking, her voice soft but laced with determination.

“I, um… I planned a romantic dinner for us tonight.” She was cautious, almost tentative. “Would you be able to come over to my place at seven, hon?”

Your heart warmed at her nervousness, and you gave her a soft, reassuring smile. “Of course, babe. I’d love to.” The tenderness in your tone seemed to ease her tension, and you couldn’t help but add. “Do you want me to bring anything? A bottle of your favorite white wine or—”

“No, just you and your beautiful body,” The second the words left her lips, her face flushed a deep, fiery red, the color climbing up her neck and spreading across her cheeks. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth as her eyes went wide in shock at her own boldness. It was as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just said, and the mortification was clear in the way her shoulders tensed. “Oh?”

Jacob and Janine, who had been standing just far enough away to give you both some privacy, exchanged a quick glance. Janine, ever the romantic, stifled a squeal of excitement, biting her hand to keep from bursting into giddy laughter. Jacob, always the supportive friend, gave Melissa a discreet thumbs-up, mouthing.“You’ve got this. Just breathe, Mel Mel.” Their silent gestures of support didn’t go unnoticed by Melissa, and despite the fiery embarrassment burning in her cheeks, she felt a rush of warmth and gratitude.

You, too, caught the brief exchange between your friends and chuckled, though your gaze quickly returned to Melissa. There was no mistaking the anxiety in her posture, but beyond that, you could see the flicker of something else—determination, excitement, maybe even hope. She was putting herself out there, more than she usually allowed herself to, and that touched you deeply.

Just me and my body, huh?” you teased gently. “That’s quite the invitation, Schemmenti. What’s the occasion?”

Melissa’s face, already flushed, deepened into an even darker shade of red, but there was a spark in her eyes now, a glimmer of resolve. She was nervous, yes, but she had made her decision. “I just thought it was time to switch things up a bit,” she replied, her voice steadier than before, though still laced with vulnerability. “You know, take a leap and maybe… celebrate us.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. This wasn’t just about a dinner; this was about moving forward, about her desire to deepen your relationship. You could see how much this moment mattered to her—the courage it took to say those words, to open herself up to the possibility of rejection, even if that fear was unfounded. You stood up and closed the distance between you. Without hesitation, you wrapped her in a tender hug, your arms encircling her in a protective embrace.

She stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden display of affection, especially in such a public setting. But as soon as she felt your warmth enveloping her, she relaxed, melting into your arms as if this was exactly where she was meant to be. The proximity, the way you held her so tightly yet so gently, made her realize how deeply she needed this, needed you.

“Baby, that sounds perfect,” you whispered softly, your breath warm against her ear. “I can’t wait for tonight.”

Melissa’s hold on you tightened as she buried her face in the crook of your neck, the anxiety that had gnawed at her all day slowly ebbing away. She pressed a soft kiss to your hair, the gesture filled with such tenderness it made your heart ache. With your bodies pressed together, she could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against hers, the calming syncopation reminding her that she was exactly where she belonged.

As you held her, you caught a glimpse of Janine and Jacob, who were watching from a distance with proud smiles. Janine gave Jacob a giddy nudge, her spirit high and full of excitement for you both. Even Mr. Johnson, who was still sweeping the cafeteria floor nearby, muttered something about “first love making messes,” though there was a small, almost imperceptible grin on his face.

Eventually, you pulled back just enough to look at her, your hands resting on her arms. “So, what’s on the menu tonight?” you asked, with playful curiosity. “I’m guessing it’s not just spaghetti and meatballs.”

Melissa’s lips twitched, the nervousness in her eyes slowly giving way to something warmer, more confident. “You’ll just have to wait and see,” she said, her voice teasing now. “But I can promise you, it’s going to be unforgettable.”

You grinned at her, the excitement for tonight bubbling up in your chest. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

As you stepped back and returned to your spot, Melissa lingered for a moment, watching you with a cute, almost dreamy expression on her face. The weight of the day’s nerves had finally lifted, replaced by a sense of joy and anticipation. With one last glance at you, she turned and headed back to her classroom, her heart feeling lighter than it had in months.

“You two are seriously the cutest couple ever,” Janine gushed, nudging you with her elbow as she sat back down.

Jacob nodded in agreement, a small, knowing smirk on his face. “She’s a lucky woman.”

You felt your face flush with warmth as you beamed softly, your thoughts already drifting to the evening ahead. “I’m the lucky one,” you murmured, more to yourself than to them.

—

The soft glow of candles flickered across the kitchen, casting gentle shadows that danced on the walls. Melissa had taken great care to set the table just right. The white linen tablecloth was smooth and immaculate, the polished silverware gleamed under the dim light, and delicate crystal glasses sparkled like tiny stars. A simple yet elegant centerpiece—a vase filled with fresh roses—added a touch of romance, their soft petals a gentle reminder of the evening’s purpose.

After a quick shower, Melissa stood in front of her bathroom mirror, wrapped in a thick towel as her reflection stared back at her. She untangled her hair with her fingers, letting the soft waves settle naturally around her shoulders. The evening felt charged with meaning, and as she pulled on a deep green dress that highlighted the rich color of her eyes, she couldn’t shake a sense of anticipation that made her fingers tremble. But before she slipped into the dress, Melissa lingered in her reflection, standing there in her bra and underwear.

Her fingers brushed lightly over the delicate lace of her bra before trailing up to her cross necklace. The small, familiar weight of it rested against her skin, a reminder of her faith and the strength she often sought from it. She gently kissed the cross, her lips touching the cool metal, as if grounding herself. Closing her eyes for a moment, she whispered, “I’ll be okay.” Her voice was steady, a quiet promise to herself. When she opened her eyes again, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She was ready—nervous, yes, but there was an undeniable sense of purpose in the evening that outweighed her fears.

The act of kissing her necklace and reminding herself that she would be okay brought a small but real sense of calm. She unclenched her jaw, letting herself breathe before stepping away from the mirror to pull on the deep green dress she had picked out.

Slipping into the dress, Melissa took one last look at herself, smoothing down the fabric and adjusting the straps. It wasn’t an extravagant gown—just a simple dress that made her feel beautiful in a way that mattered most to her. It hugged her curves in all the right places, the fabric complementing her fiery red hair and highlighting the vibrancy of her eyes. She added a light touch of makeup, just enough to enhance her natural features, before stepping back to admire the final result. A moment of calm settled over her, the flicker of nerves tempered by the reassurance she had given herself.

The house was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of lasagna, garlic, tomatoes, and bubbling cheese coming together in the oven. The familiar, comforting smells filled every corner of the room, making it feel warm, welcoming. Melissa stepped into the kitchen, checking on the lasagna and adjusting the heat, ensuring everything was perfect. The faint sound of the record player drifted in from the living room, where a playlist of your favorite songs played softly, romantic melodies filling the air with warmth and intimacy. Everything was set, and now, all she needed was for you to arrive.

The doorbell rang, cutting through the quiet with a soft chime, and Melissa’s heart skipped a beat. She stood still for a moment, gathering her courage. This evening wasn’t just about the food or the setting—it was about the leap she was taking, the love she wanted to show you. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her dress once more and made her way to the door. As her hand reached for the doorknob, she murmured to herself, “I’ll be okay,” one last time, her fingers briefly touching the cross around her neck.

When she opened the door and saw you standing there, her nerves melted away at the sight of your smile. You looked at her, taking in the beautiful green dress, her soft waves of hair, and the way her eyes shone with a mixture of happiness and vulnerability. There was a beat of silence, the world falling away for a moment as you exchanged a quiet, meaningful look.

“Hey, babe,” you said warmly, stepping forward and pulling her into a gentle hug. You could feel the slight tremble in her body as she relaxed into your embrace, her arms wrapping around you as if she had been waiting for this all day.

“Hey, mia principessa,” she whispered back softly, but there was a strength in it. You could sense how much this night meant to her, how much she wanted it to be special. “Come in. I’ve got everything ready.”

The smell of lasagna welcomed you as you stepped into the cozy warmth of her home. You glanced around, admiring the thoughtful touches—the candlelit table, the vase of roses, the soft music filling the space. It was intimate, and it spoke volumes about the care she had put into this night.

“Lissa, this is beautiful,” you said, turning back to her. “You did all of this?”

Melissa smiled, the nervous energy that had been building inside her easing just a little at your reaction. “Yeah, I wanted to do something special for us.”

You reached out, taking her hand and giving it a gentle peck. “It’s perfect.”

For the first time that evening, your girlfriend felt a deep sense of calm.

You followed Melissa to the dining table, where the soft glow of the candles illuminated the spread before you. The lasagna sat perfectly golden in its dish, steam rising from the surface, and the fresh roses at the center of the table filled the air with their delicate scent. She pulled out a chair for you, her hand brushing against your shoulder as you sat down.

The older woman served the lasagna with careful hands, the utensils clinking against the plates as she handed you your portion. As you took your first bite, the rich flavors of garlic, tomato, and cheese filled your mouth, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes for a second to savor it.

“This is delicious, Mel,” you said, smiling up at her as you set your fork down.

“I’m glad you like it,” she replied sweetly, still carrying that undercurrent of vulnerability that made your heart swell with affection. You could see how much she wanted tonight to be perfect, and it already was. The evening felt like a beautiful, slow unfolding of something deeper, something you both had been moving toward for a long time.

For a while, you ate in companionable silence, the music playing in the background as the evening settled into a comfortable rhythm. Melissa stole glances at you as you ate, and each time your eyes met, she smiled a little more freely. But there was something else too—an sexual tension hanging in the air between you, unspoken but unmistakable. It made every touch and every shared look feel heavier, more charged.

After a while, Melissa set her fork down, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her wine glass as she spoke, quieter now. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while…” Her eyes lifted to meet yours, and you could see the seriousness in them.

You frowned, sensing the shift in the conversation. “What is it?”

“I’ve been… I’ve been wanting to take the next step with us. I’m ready. For sex.”

The weight of her confession settled between you, and for a second, it felt like the world outside this moment ceased to exist. Your heart skipped a beat, the meaning behind her words sinking in. You knew how much this meant to her, how deeply she felt things, and how careful she was with every step in your relationship. And now, here she was, opening herself up, offering all of her to you in the most vulnerable way possible.

You reached across the table, your fingers finding hers, and she held onto you like she’d been waiting for this connection all night. “Mel,” you began. “I’ve been waiting for you to be ready. I’m here. I’ll always wait for you.”

A soft laugh touched her lips, her thumb brushing over your knuckles as she held your gaze. “I know,” she whispered, and then, as if the moment couldn’t hold itself back any longer, she leaned across the table and kissed you. Her lips were soft, warm, and full of promise. The kiss started gentle, but there was a sense of urgency behind it, a need she had been holding back for too long.

You stood up, gently pulling her with you, and without breaking the kiss, she wrapped her arms around your waist. The closeness felt intoxicating, the room spinning with the scent of roses, the warmth of the candlelight, and the taste of wine still on her lips.

Melissa pulled back slightly. “Come upstairs with me.”

You nodded, unable to speak, the weight of the moment settling in your chest. With her hand in yours, she led you out of the dining room and up the stairs, her grip firm but trembling ever so slightly. The steps felt endless, each one echoing the rapid beating of your heart, but when you reached the bedroom door, everything else faded away. It was just you and her, the world quiet and still, as if this moment had been waiting for you both for a long time.

After going upstairs hand in hand, you enter her bedroom. The environment is spacious and welcoming, with a palette of neutral tones that creates a soft and intimate atmosphere. The walls are painted a light, almost sandy beige, and there are several old photo frames hanging in an elegant pattern. The floor is covered in a large, shaggy rug in a soft brown tone that provides a pleasant contrast to the dark wooden floor.

The center of the room is dominated by a king size bed, covered with sheets and bedding set in beige tones. The pillows and duvet combine in different textures and subtle patterns, creating a feeling of comfort and simplicity.

You lay down on the bed, messing up the bedding set and pillowcases that were still fresh and spotless. Melissa sat on top of you, with her knees on either side of your hips, and began to unbutton the elegant blouse you were wearing. Her movement was careful, almost reverent, as if each blossoming bud revealed not just your skin, but also the vulnerability and trust you were building together.

“I’ve never looked like that,” she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your own in a long kiss that was both hesitant and eager. As her mouth lingered on yours, she noticed the way you slightly shudder beneath her touch, a clear sign of your nervousness. And how anxious you seemed, more so than she felt herself. “You’re trembling.”

Melissa reaches for the lamp, her digits brushing against its switch as she considers dimming the light to make the room more comfortable and less intimidating. But before she can, you reach out to stop her, grabbing her wrist feeling the subtle pulse of her beat beneath your touch.

“No, I want to see you too,” you peel off your blouse, followed by your pants and underwear, letting them fall to the floor in a silent haze.

The older woman gulps and bobs her throat and starts to undress too. Her long green dress fell away in soft folds to the edge of the king size bed, followed by the delicate unfastening of her bra, revealing her full, supple and delicious boobs. Their natural weight makes them sway slightly and her nipples, a dusky rose, stood erect in the cool air. Her panties followed, slipping down her legs to reveal her glistening, damp center with some reddish, slightly trimmed pubic hair above her mound that was a stark contrast to the smooth milky white of her thighs.

For a fleeting second, doubt and insecurity crept in. She wondered if you saw her as beautiful or if the passage of time, with its subtle marks on her skin—fine lines around her eyes and mouth, the gentle curve of age. Arms flaccid and a little droopy, and the fact that she is not completely shaved underneath—might be off-putting. The decades that had shaped her were etched into her form, a testament to experiences and moments lived, but she questioned if they would overshadow the intimacy of the present.

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the side, overwhelmed by the thought of you finding her less than desirable, maybe even disgusting like Joe did when they used to have sex in their marriage years. The idea of her imperfections being too much to bear made her shiver with apprehension, and unexpected tears dropped into her cheeks as those thoughts almost brought her to the brink of crying.

In that vulnerable instant, Melissa searched for any sign of disapproval, any hint that the years might have dimmed her allure. But as your gaze locked with hers, she saw something entirely different—an intense, unspoken admiration, a hunger that seemed to pierce through her insecurities. This recognition of her allure gave her the courage to continue.

“You’re so beautiful, bambina.” She tilted her head, her swollen lips meeting yours again in a passionate kiss that deepened as she felt your response. Your hands roamed over her back, feeling the heat of her skin and the subtle firmness of her muscles. Her auburn hair fell around her shoulders, cascading like a dark waterfall that framed her face and partially covered her chest. The sight of her, disheveled and beautiful, made you catch your oxygen.

Melissa lets her thumbs glide down your abdomen, feeling the softness of your flesh beneath her fingertips while she trails imaginary patterns. That only she can see. She squeezes your breasts gently before she leans in to nip at your earlobe. There’s a hunger in the way she worships you, a need to feel you, to taste you.

She begins to kiss her way down your neck, her lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. When she reaches your boobs, she pauses for a moment, her breath ghosting over your nipples before she takes one into her mouth slowly. The feeling sends a shiver down your body, and you can’t help the loud whimper that escapes your lips.

“That feels so good. Don’t stop. Suck harder,” you gasped, unable to contain the fervent need building inside you.

The redhead hums in response, her gaze locked onto yours as she continues to suckle on your hardened peak. There’s something almost reverent in the way she’s looking at you, as though she’s in awe of the effect she’s having on you. Her hair, now tousled and wild, brushed against your skin like a silken curtain. You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of her lips on your sensitive areas, and opened your mouth to draw in deep, steady breaths, trying to ground yourself amidst the swirling sensations.

She traces a slow, deliberate path down your body, her lips grazing the curve of your waist, until she’s almost between your legs. Her hands rest on your thighs, gently urging them apart, and you feel the smirk ghosting over your most intimate area. When she parted your legs, her eyes widened slightly at the sight of your wetness dripping down and the intoxicating smell that made her drool.

“Can I put my mouth on you?”

“Please.”

Melissa’s hands move to your hips, and with a deliberate, almost possessive grip, she pushes you down against the mattress, pinning you in place. The bed creaks softly beneath you, but all you can focus on is the way her mouth hovers just above your aching pussy.

She lowers herself between your thighs, her breath hot against your skin as she leans in, her mouth finally making contact. The first contact of her tongue against your wet folds is electrifying, a shiver running down your spine. She’s never felt anything like this—so raw, so intimate. The sensation of your taste, warm and sweet on her tongue, ignites something deep within her.

The older woman begins to lick through your wetness, her movements grow more confident, more assured. Her face becomes slick with your arousal, but she doesn’t care—if anything, it only drives her to delve deeper, to explore every inch of you with her warm mouth. The soft slurping and suckling sounds she makes while she eats you out, along with guttural groans of satisfaction vibrating against your most sensitive spots muffled against your folds, tell you everything; how much Melissa is enjoying this. Amplifying the pleasure coursing through you. And you can’t help but moan, your fingers tangling in her hair, urging her closer.

“Oh, Lissa…go faster,” you murmur breathy, trying to guide her with gentle encouragement. “Just like that, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

She’s teasing your clit now, her tongue flicking over it teasing it with featherlight strokes that makes your hips buck involuntarily. She seems to be memorizing, learning and responding to your every movement, every sound. You can feel her fingers hovering at your entrance, the pads of her tips brushing teasingly against your folds. The need for more—more of her, more of everything—builds inside you like a tidal wave.

“Fingers. Use them to fill me up.”

Two fingers slide inside you easily, the heat and slickness enveloping her in a way that makes her gasp. The knowledge that she’s the one making you feel this way, that she’s the cause of your pleasure, is almost overwhelming for her. She starts to pump her fingers, slow and deep, crooking them just right to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

“Fuck, hon,” Melissa groans. “You’re so tight… so fucking good.”

“Mhhm.”

The older woman intensifies her pace, her fingers moving faster, deeper, her thumb circling your clit in slow, lazy circles. Her brow furrows in concentration as she continues.

The pressure builds rapidly, and your hips buck against her hand, your need growing more urgent with every passing second. Her eyes stay locked on your face, absorbing each scream and tremor that escapes you, her lips parting slightly as she watches your pleasure build.

“You feel so good,” she murmurs, never letting up the pace. “Are you close?”

Your breath catches, the coil tightening inside you. “I’m so so close, please let me come,” you beg, your voice trembling as you ride the edge.

A flicker of confidence crosses her face as she leans closer, her thumb pressing harder against your clit, her fingers driving deeper. “Cum for me,” she whispers, laced with longing. “I want to feel you, pretty girl.”

That command, spoken so softly but filled with intent, sends you spiraling. With a final, perfect stroke, you fall over the edge, your body arching as the pleasure crashes through you, wave after wave. Your whines grow louder, desperate, as Melissa guides you through the bliss.

She keeps going, drawing out every shudder and whimper until you’re completely undone beneath her. Only then does she slowly withdraw her fingers, leaving you trembling and breathless.

Collapsing against you, her face finds the crook of your neck, her figure trembling with emotion. It takes a moment to realize she’s crying, low sobs muffled against you.

“I did it?” she breaks in disbelief. “I made you feel good… I can’t believe I did it.”

You wrap your arms around her, pulling her close. “You did, baby,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You were perfect.”

Melissa shakes her head slightly, still clinging to you. “I was so scared I’d mess it up… but I did it.”

You gently lift her chin, forcing her to look at you. Her emerald eyes are red and glistening with tears, but the satisfaction you see there only makes your love for her grow stronger. You cup her face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over her cheeks to wipe away the tears.

She lets out a shaky breath, her curvaceous body leaning into yours as if seeking reassurance. Her pink lips brush over yours in a tender, almost desperate kiss. Between soft pecks, you speak against her lips, “You’re safe. I love you. You're safe with me.”

She gives you a small, tearful smile before pressing kisses to your chest, resting her head there as if she never wants to let go.

And you don’t want her to. Not ever.

[susansontag]

my guide to lesbian anime both canonic and subtextual

(won’t include every lesbian anime ever, this is a personal list)

the canonic-gay section:

revolutionary girl utena

nothing before or since has ever done it like this. trigger warnings for everything imaginable. loads of homosexuals in this one. gender commentary, fairytale allusions, a lot of kids who are having a hard time growing up and moving beyond their pasts. sword lesbians.

flip flappers

the problematic favourite, in that there’s at least one uncomfortable sexualised shot each episode (roughly speaking; some have none and one has even more, unfortunately), so be warned. but at its heart flipflap is about repressed cocona going on adventures with outgoing and expressive papika, and their exploration of various fantastical lands/inner worlds of people they meet. hugely inventive and pretty, and a core thread is cocona discovering she’s gay.

aoi hana (‘sweet blue flowers’)

the comfort lesbian show, with not a romantic relationship at its heart, but a friendship between two childhood friends who meet again, both of whom are gay (though only one realises this during the show’s run, as it’s based on a manga). one of them dates an upperclassman at her school, and there’s various gay and bi side characters. it’s just very wholesome, lovingly animated, sweet and sometimes painful stuff.

bloom into you

I controversially do not care that much for bloom into you, but as the best, high-production, non-skeevy yuri show in years - that is based on a manga by a woman - it’s worth mentioning. late-bloomer girl dreams of romance, though has never felt it, and finds affinity with a girl who similarly is disinclined to date. that is, until said girl says she fancies her. genuinely moving exploration of developing gay identity at times, only downside is my personal disinterest in the black haired girl. some weird ‘heightened’ moments that feel inauthentic and titillating do arise, but it’s very few - to the point where some would disagree with me on my reading of it, I’d imagine.

sailor moon

the bits which the lesbians are in, etc. it’s a classic. I haven’t watched all of it myself because I don’t care much nor do I have nostalgia for sailor moon, but it’s one of the most notable examples of a butch/masc lesbian in anime, so that’s nice.

o maidens in your savage season

nerdy teenage girls who are part of a literature club make it their quest to discover sex and dating, in various ways (unfortunately, not all of them dealt with well… teacher/student foolery that is fortunately abandoned before it gets worse but is nonetheless handled with mixed results, imo). mostly though it’s hilarious, sweet, silly, and there’s a gay girl in it, but I won’t spoil which one. adults predating on children is also handled much, much better in another of the show’s storylines, and I do appreciate it for trying to tackle that difficult subject matter.

oniisama e (‘dear brother’)

an oldie, based off a shoujo manga by one of the greatest (riyoko ikeda). there’s a central relationship to root for (better articulated in the manga), but it’s mostly just what if we were messy depressed lesbians at an all-girls school and we were also melodramatic and mean as hell.

revue starlight

what if we were at an all-girls dramatic arts school and engaged in utena-like duels to become the top performer? main implicitly gay couple with canonic side gay couples. it’s quite cute. also worth watching if you like takarazuka in any way (prestigious all-female japanese theatre troupe), because the main conceit of the school is very much based on that idea.

the gay-themes section:

sound! euphonium (season one)

in which director naoko yamada’s awesome legacy of writing lesbians and then saying “who’s to say though, ha ha” continued (she did it already with a side character in tamako market). this one is known as the gaybait to end all gaybait, but hear me out: the first, and best, season, is not only a fantastic self-contained story with many great characters and plot points, but it’s main character is undoubtedly lesbian-coded and even has a love interest you can argue about. frankly I think she’s gay-coded throughout the whole show (even when she dates a guy for two minutes), but this feels very “I wanted to focus on this compelling relationship between two female characters but the adaptation’s success meant we had to revert back to the source material in later seasons”. what we got from this is perhaps my favourite lesbian anime of all-time, following utena.

a place further than the universe

this show is about four girls who join an expedition to antarctica, and what if I told you they’re all great, believable dorky teenage characters, and they exist in a well-written and thematically satisfying show… and there’s nice lesbian implication between one of our adult female protagonists and her old (deceased; not a spoiler) friend who was the main teen girl’s mother. there’s some sad here, obviously.

puella magi madoka magica

the well-known, much beloved deconstruction of the magical girl genre is also pretty gay, as it happens (so gay in fact it started a trend of gay-coded pink+black magical girls). it’s not a particular favourite of mine, but it’s visually one of the most notable anime productions ever, so it’s well worth seeing just for that.

NANA

the 2000s manga+show about the two twenty-year-olds who meet on a train and discover they’re both called nana is also pretty gay! to the point where there are heated fandom debates about nana komatsu’s (pink one) possibly being a lesbian. they both have many relationships with guys, but it’s their bond that forms the heart of the show, and the bisexuality (or, who knows, homosexuality) of the leads is pretty undeniable. to the point where you’ll get blasted on the nana subreddit if you try and suggest otherwise.

the wild-card section:

keep your hands off eizouken!

this is a show about three oddball girls who start a club to create anime, but have to pose as the film club instead for various reasons. it’s not even subtextually gay, I just personally think that all three of the leads are gay and the whole thing feels like a very female-centred creative endeavour. hugely fun watch, and very high production values. you wouldn’t regret seeing it.

skip & loafer

these two you see here are side characters. this show is actually about mitsumi, the greatest female protagonist of this kind of shoujo-esque slice of life show, who moves from the countryside to tokyo for high school. here she meets many a misfit, including the pretty blonde and the nerd girl who have undeniable chemistry and form one of the most popular pairings in the show. it’s just a good time.

chihayafuru

I’d get in trouble for this, because the primary romance factor in the show is a famed heterosexual love triangle with chihaya at its centre and her two male childhood friends at the side. but go with me on this. chihaya is oblivious to romance and feminine socialisation, she is obsessed with a card game and with her equally dorky dark-haired rival… she’s anime’s greatest autistic lesbian lead. and you get more than what you pay for, because the two boys I mentioned? a lot of gay stuff going on there too.

the big-screen-cinematic section:

the adolescence of utena

revolutionary girl returns in the sequel of a lifetime, slightly older (sixteen, say) and gayer than ever, to escape this place with the love of her life. cue the impromptu dance sequence (with stars and rose petals)!

liz and the blue bird

the naoko yamada directed gay cinematic universe continues with a gorgeous film starring two of the side characters from sound! euphonium’s second season (not necessary to watch beforehand). that means it has plausible deniability whilst being so crazily gay it’s almost some kind of joke. this is a highly detailed, laser-focused character study of two girls in their high school band club and their ever more strained relationship. yamada never misses.

the summer

this is korean! it’s about two girls who meet at school and start dating in secret, what happens as they grow up and move to seoul, and how their relationship changes and strains when met with the conservatism of contemporary korean society. it was sweet and like aoi hana above for japanese girls, felt pretty frank to the experiences I’d imagine young korean lesbians might have.

puella magi madoka magica: rebellion

if you’re a fan of the show, you probably don’t talk about this movie. sure, it’s a visual feat, sure, it’s insanely entertaining, but it’s also frustrating and upsetting and potentially undermines the neatness of the original as a perfectly-crafted story. BUT. kyouko/sayaka becomes all but canon in it, and everything else aside, that’s all that really matters. but you should definitely watch the show beforehand.

[saeclipse]

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄

alexis ness x gn reader

word count: 895

summary: alexis ness gets injured from soccer. kaiser taking him home, he spends the day under your care

𝐆𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍 fill the room, the soccer player has yet to get comfortable on his couch. His right leg propped up after suffering a terrible injury. Kaiser just stands there, staring at his misery, bouncing his leg up and down impatiently.

“When are they gonna come?” The blue haired man asked, “Waiting all day isn’t exactly my specialty, Ness.”

The shorter man quickly comes to your defense. Forgetting his injury, he abruptly gets up, but he then almost screams in pain with the stress on his knee. Keys then fiddle with the door outside, prompting Kaiser to dash to the location. You sprint pass the tall man to get to (you’re favorite) German. Kneeling in front of the couch you examine his knee with concern.

“Are you okay? I heard a noise from outside.” You question your lover.

He grunts for a moment but responds with that sweet voice of his, “Of course, meine hübsche.” (my pretty)

You give a small chuckle as you stare at his leg more intently, using your experience as a nurse to tend to your boyfriend. You ask the normal questions; did you take your medicine, how’s the pain 1-10, etc. After caring for your partner, you notice a tall figure still standing in front of the door.

“This is disgusting, I’m leaving.” Is all Kaiser said before he makes his departure. You have no idea how your angel of a boyfriend ever even liked that demon. Not trying to toot your own horn here but… you like to say you take much better care of him than Kaiser ever will.

“You okay, beautiful?” Ness asked, it only melts your heart more. This guy could literally beat up a person and you would just stare with big red hearts as eyes, it was so cartoonish your love for him. What was even more silly was his love for you. He would turn the world upside down, left and right, and end it if you gave him the word. It truly came out of a fairytale – his everlasting love for you. Some called it like a dog and master, but it was much more. If it truly was dog and master, you would be the unconditional loving dog who worshiped Ness, you would do just as crazy a thing for him just as he would for you. It was a mutual insane obsession, some might call it unhealthy, you guys called it love.

You only smile at him and give a chaste kiss to his cute forehead, making sure to get straight in the middle. You travel over to your kitchen – one that you rarely used when Ness is over as he always suggested going on a date to a fancy restaurant, but now here you are making your best to imitate the cuisine from his favorite German restaurant. If Ness was gonna spend the next couple weeks on your couch, isolated from the world, he was gonna get the best food he got since his birth.

You sang delightfully in tune with the song, Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana del Rey played on the speaker. Cooking some meat, Ness layed there, staring at the most ethereal person attempt to cook him a five star meal (you would fail but he wouldn’t tell you). God he wish he could capture this moment on his camera so he could keep a physical copy, but he supposes a phone will do.

After eating a sweet treat for dessert (which ended up being ice cream because somehow you fucked up the original dessert). You hold Ness on your shoulder, traveling to your room so you have easier access to him in the middle of the night. Unsurprisingly being extremely heavy, it takes a while before you settle your boyfriend on the bed.

“Wait here, I have to get the kit.” You state before heading to the restroom. It only takes a few seconds but you come back with gauze and other materials to rebandage the injury. No words are said as you focus on his knee, with the silence saying everything that's needed. Ness once again oogles at your focused state, making him question if he should visit you at work more often. Phantom hearts fill his eyes, thoughts of you caring for him, this time with a ring on your finger flood his mind. He wonders if he should start getting injured more – but then you would have to worry more and he doesn’t want that. However, seeing you here, with the soft orange light from the lamp capturing your features beautifully. He feels like home here, maybe he will move in with you next month. After all, no house is a home without your presence to warm it.

Putting the kit back, you come back to bed with pajamas. You guys set your TV on a show, and although you don’t particularly find it entertaining, hearing Ness laugh next to you is a more than good enough reason to keep it running.

And when the lights go off, when it’s just you two in the dark in your bed – that's when most of the memories happen, the talks, the jokes, the moments of adoration of the other, where one could stare at the other’s resting figure and recollect the day. Where you two laugh at Ness’s new lockscreen of you cooking peacefully in the kitchen.

@lakeside-paradise @tofumiarchives @rini-rushed @shrii-kk

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

So we have Yuu’s pseudo-parents(Crewel and the fab five) having insane lore, but what about Yuu herself having quite the backstory before she even got transmigrated to Twisted Wonderland. We love to see a seemingly innocent girl actually being involved in the wildest incidents a kid has ever gone through.

Yuu drinking too much energy drinks one time to stay awake for an exam only discover that she made it halfway to school on foot (she lived an hour away from school by bus).

These are just some examples off the top off my head.

Yuu starting a revolution about the dumb dress code in her old school that resulted in her classmates tying up the principal in his chair and a statue getting toppled over

Yuu accidentally falling out of a ferris wheel, but somehow surviving.

Yuu having a secret sibling somewhere who she secretly writes letters to.

Yuu accidentally blowing up a bridge for a science experiment.

Yuu and her friends being chased by maniac at night.

And finally…

“Yeah, I guess that happens to you when you use dragon meat to resurrect your best friend”

Hades is like, “You WHAT?!”

Someone else is like, “I thought she can’t use magic.”

The best part is that nobody can tell if she’s lying because they’re either in denial believe that Yuu wouldn’t lie about something like that. She tells her stories with the utmost sincerity and casualness. Not even Maleficent or Chernabog can detect any lies, so it must be true.

Idk I just love the idea of Yuu being a wild child when she was younger then mellowing out enough with her experience to boot just so she has the fortitude to handle even more wild children at NRC.

OH MY GOD YES THAT WOULD BE AWESOME!

Like the kids could be trapped somewhere and Yuu would be like "Don't worry guys, I've broken out of prison before so this should be a piece of-"

"YOU WHAT?!"

Or, alternatively:

Yuu: This reminds me of that time I was in jail

Mickey: You mean like in Monopoly, right?

Yuu:

Mickey: (sweating) you mean like in Monopoly, right???

I bet Pete would think twice about messing with the club when chaotic!Yuu is around because his schemes always bite him in the back. Twofold.

In fact, all villains know that Yuu is not someone you want to mess with. I know that girl always has makeshift weapons on her. And a very comprehensive/convoluted plan on how to commit murder and hide the body (+ as well as any alibis) with like fifty back up plans and a few dozen contingency plans for those back up plans.

She and the scientist characters like the BH6 gang, Jumba, Yzma, Prof Von Drake etc are always off causing trouble so there's a rule in the club (that Yuu always breaks anyway) that she's not allowed to be left alone with them

I can see her helping one of the magical characters with a spell or whatever and her nodding along like "yeah, I got this. So which animal are we sacrificing?”

"what?"

"what?"

I can see her wanting to test out different potions but Crewel and the fab five are stopping her and she's like "but I've drank poison before :( it's really no big deal :("

Oh you bet that there are like ten places her and her friends are banned from back in her world

Hades is so done with everything because he's just gotten used to this magicless mortal girl that trespasses into the underworld because Pain and Panic wanted to play just dance with her

So I'm into Epic the musical and now I'm just thinking about *SPOILERS FOR THE VENGEANCE SAGA* Yuu just casually dropping that one time she stabbed an immortal being into compliance as the entire club just stares at her in awe/horror.

The Fab Five whenever chaotic!Yuu is being chaotic:

Thanks for the ask ♡

[somany-fandoms-solittle-time]

My favorite type of Jamikali angst or Hurt/Comfort is when Kalim decides to slowly back off on complimenting and being around Jamil.... So Jamil gets that "shit. Oh fuck. Oh God oh Fuck." thought process while he realizes how much he misses it.

And then he has to overcome his pride and emotional constipation to start going out of his way to interact first. Just having to deal with the consequences of his actions and the absolute despair of not being the most important person in someone's life anymore and having to consciously pine over what was. The misunderstandings. Sifting through all the misplaced feelings while laying in bed staring at the ceiling. KNOWING that something had to change, but maybe you went too far and now everything's broken. You fucked everything up and the most precious person in your world is no longer the same.

But, ofc, Kalim is thinking THE EXACT SAME THING but he's slowly opening up to his support group (the Pop Music Club, the other 2nd years etc). Everyone's just watching this trash fire of a complicated relationship and how these completely down bad idiots are circling each other but too stuck in their own issues to do anything about it. It's painful and raw and it'd be perfect of they were JUST HONEST WITH EACH OTHER!!!!

Cue one of them is having a nightmare about the Overblot. Or Kalim takes Jamil's servitude in his own hands just for Jamil to suddenly feel tossed aside. Maybe Kalim gets sick or poisoned and has to go through the motions of that shared trauma but the status quo has shifted. A badly timed visit back home. The Al-Asim family sends a different servant to take care of Kalim and Jamil is not fucking having it.

[bisnes-socks]

i've read people's thoughts on the album as a whole and i've analysed most of the songs myself by now, so here's my thoughts on the whole people's champion album.

1. in ready to go, well he is just that, ready to go and try, even if he fails. he's not afraid and going forward and doing his thing is what he intends to do and what he loves to do. he has agency over his career and image, autonomy over himself.

my longer and more in depth song analysis posts are linked here in the text.

i personally don't think the album has a single narrative through it. the songs are thematically connected, but it's not one chronological and cohesive story to me. i've seen people speaking a lot on the theme of agency. i'd agree, that agency and autonomy are the major themes of the album, but i would specify that in my opinion, it's about finding and claiming agency. i think he has agency in almost every single song, but it's about him realising that he does have it, even when it feels like he doesn't, and him finding it and holding on to it.

2. in cha cha cha, he's talking about different sides of himself. in this song the two aren't necessarily living in perfect harmony, because one man needs piña coladas to coax him out, but both are.. intentional. and ultimately it's about finding the bravery to be who you are, which he is always advocating for and has really succeeded in, it seems.

3. in takavoltti, yes he is being sort of incited into crazy shit, but he absolutely recognises himself as a person who just.. gets into crazy shit easily. this side of him is also very present in mic mac. he's not bullied or abused into insane stunts and things, he recognises his own agency and both mental and physical autonomy in all of it by comparing himself to the dudesons etc. i think the song recognises the toxicity of the situation, but he's in control of it - as much as you are in control of your own personality and impulses.

4. ruoska is getting into the territory of maybe lacking some agency - life treats him harshly sometimes, and maybe he feels a bit powerless in front of all that. but then! he claims agency, by essentially going well yeah this hurts but hehe i'm into pain bitch. he literally says "baby hei mä oon valmis, anna tulla" meaning i'm ready, give it to me.

5. in kot kot i feel like he is at his most helpless. he's trying to control his situation by running away from things, trying to dance his worries away, but it's all crumbling down. in this one his agency in the situation is pretend.

7. in sex = money he is taking back like aaaalll of his agency and autonomy. his image, his work, his power, his role, his personality, his sexuality. autonomous agency anthem! he doesn't give a fuck! let's make sex moneyyy. BUT at the same time the song recognises the risks concerning agency and autonomy in the world of music, where selling sex is so prevalent. i think he is choosing to hold on to his.

6. in skit + autiomaa, he has lost agency and control over his life yes, but he is learning to find it again. he is listing things that he has done, to help himself feel better and to improve. it might not help (immediately anyway) but he's doing it. and he has thought about it, he has sought for help, he has sought for solutions, he has taken the steps. he is actively trying to help himself. i think that makes the song all the more emotional and sad, but it is not without hope, it's not without his own personal action for himself, and not without progress.

8. bananas is more about togetherness and collectivity i think. but i think it's also a song where he is truly enjoying himself. feeling himself, you know? if kot kot is a pretty sad song about partying, this one is pretty sexy. he's feeling like the hottest boy at the club, you know? truly into himself and into his crew and everything they get up to.

9. huhhahhei is about new connections. making the choice to be open and even vulnerable with new people. setting your own boundaries and giving yourself the permission to enjoy new people. self-confidence! 

10. in icip, he's not so much in control of things that happen to him, but he doesn't seem to be toooo bothered about it. which i find quite fitting. he sees things for what they are but he doesn't seem insecure or scared about any of it.

11. people's champion is a recap of him finding himself in a whole new situation and finding his footing in all of it - and recognising the help he has had along the way, while also being proud of everything he himself has achieved.

so overall, i think thematically this album is quite heavy, maybe dark even, but to me, it's not a sad album specifically. he comes across as someone incredibly tenacious. he's able to stay very strong, and he is able to recognise when things aren't going great. i think ultimately, the album is him going through life changing events, both good things and bad things, and coming out on the other side stronger and wiser than ever. it's an album of many emotions, but at the end of the day, he persists. and naming it people's champion, the single tear on the cover.. he's facing it all, taking it all head on, claiming his pride and moving forward. he's strong.

it's a powerful album.

[jarofstyles]

FICTOBER DAY 11- Smile

FICTOBER Prompts/Masterlist

Patreon

1.3k

Warnings- incubus/succubus, smut, threesome mention/ sex w other people mention, mmf/ffm mention, demons, blood, halloween etc

“It’s never a good thing when you smile like that…” Y/N whispered as she tugged her partner’s arm towards her, eyes narrowed in humorous speculation as she watched his smirk grow. The club was dark and foggy from that god awful fog machine the hired DJ had brought, the scents mixing in the room making her want to plug her nose. 

Halloween made it much easier for them to be their authentic selves. Harry and Y/N often had to hide their eyes, curtain them with human presenting ones when they went out to search for trouble. Tonight, Halloween night, had to be the best of the year. Mischief and sex, costumes galore, sin city personified. Their black eyes were assumed contacts, Y/N’s sharp black nails dragging over the front of Harry’s chest. A short black skirt barely covered her thighs and a lacy black corset top was doing little to hide her swirls of black markings down her neck and back. Harry’s were slightly more hidden, but his form always got attention. It’s what made them so good at what they did. 

Succubus and Incubus. 

“It’s a good thing you love to be bad, isn’t it my love?”

Y/N chuckled, trailing her fingers up his bare skin and catching his jaw, nails digging into the skin as she turned it back towards him. “What’s the point of wearing a shirt if you’re barely going to button it, hm?” She squeezed his face, her own saucy smile rising on her lips. “Who’s caught your eye, darling? Someone pretty that we can feed on?” Her eyes met his, reading that he had done exactly that. 

When they normally went on the prowl, they’d take their time- but it was like a buffet tonight. People ready and willing, eyeing both of them up. They were made for pure sexual attraction, humans being drawn to them like a magic spell as their energy infiltrated a space. To be chosen by both of them? The human would have stories for days. Being in a threesome with two of the best looking people they’d ever seen, bragging rights for days. They wouldn’t miss the blood that either of them took, nor would they mind their sexual energy being feasted on. For humans, it was a magical experience. No loss, no hurt, only one of the most pleasurable and euphoric experiences of their lives. The haze would follow them for days and they’d feel their touches for weeks on end, but it wasn’t harmful. Wistful, perhaps.

 The only drawback? No one would ever compare. 

They’d search the world for a human who’s cock was able to press right into that spot like Harry’s had, someone’s tongue that swirled around their most sensitive bit the way Y/N’s did, desperate for a taste of either of them, but they wouldn’t. Not unless they came about another of their kind. 

Their routine varied, as Harry claimed that ‘Variety is the spice of the afterlife’. Sometimes her chose, sometimes she did. It wasn’t like there was a lack of interested participants who approached them either. But Halloween was a night that all sorts of guidelines were lifted, and their rule for only having one encounter a day was lifted. With the ability to keep the spread of diseases, they didn’t have to wait to leave from one club to another, working on their third now. The high was lifting them up, their first two playmates safely tucked in cabs to get back home and surely sleeping off the exhaustion they had given them. 

“Show me, H. I chose last time, so it’s your turn now.” She watched his eyes flutter shut as she dragged her nails back down his throat to rest at his chest, a subtle growl leaving his throat. He loved pain, loved her nails, and his one and only soul mate. The sex with others was fun and games, a way to provide energy, but his real lifeforce was loving his sweet goddess. No one would ever compare to her, to the way she made him feel both inside and out of the bedroom. 

There was a difference between fucking for fun and for their needs, versus the love they made to one another. Their lovemaking varied between soft, soppy morning sex to bloody, rough, primal sex. There was no doubting what they preferred, and it was always each other. His arm wrapped around her waist, swinging her swiftly in front of him as he dipped his face to press cheek to cheek. “The one in the little devil costume.” He murmured, brushing his cock against her ass. “We did an angel earlier, but I’d like to see what the little devil has in store. Bet it’ll be a lot of fun, don’t you think?” He brushed his lips against her cheek, pecking it lightly. “Messy girl. Still have a bit of blood on you.” Swiftly, his tongue licked against the corner of her lips and hummed before tightening his grip on her. “We’re only halfway through the night. Already getting messy for me?” He clicked his tongue at her, feeling her eye roll despite knowing her arousal was at the top. 

“It’s the one day we can be. I can get blood all over my outfit and no one will blink an eye, think m’just a sexy creature.” She laughed, turning in his strong arms to peer up at him. “You know how much I love a mess, but you’re worse than me, aren’t you?” Her thumb was gentle now, brushing his bottom lip. It was still swollen and some of her lipstick stained them a cherry red, enhancing his pale skin even more. His clean shaven jaw was sharp as a tack and his white teeth tried to nip at the pad of her thumb playfully, but she was too quick. Her man was too handsome for his own good. “Mm… I know you love to bury your tongue in holes, any of them, and get all wet.” She had seen it firsthand just 30 minutes ago, the woman writhing under them as Y/N sat pretty on her face and watched Harry lose himself in the taste of their new friend.  “I can still smell that girl on you. She was a fun one, wasn’t she? Had to revoke those wings as soon as you touched her.” She purred, wrapping an arm over his neck. “And you love when they choke on your cock. The other boy I chose did such a nice job taking you into his throat, hm? Amazed him a little with how much you can cum… All over his face, and his ass too.  So don’t tease when you’re just as bad as me.” Her voice floated to him, making him groan. His cock was against her tummy this time, perpetually hard and her words only made it worse. “And if you want to take care of the hard time you’re currently having, throbbing against me, you better go pick up our playmate and bring them back to me.” Her hand slipped rom his neck, dow between them and cupping his erection. 

His cock was her favorite and alway would be. Perfectly thick and curved, she’d never met a person who didn’t like it, but to her it was perfection. Her prized possession. Having a soulbond with someone who pressed right where she needed, that filled her up to the brim and fucked her good enough to have her growling was all she needed.  Leaning up, her lips pressed against his own with a soft ‘pop’ as she pulled away, not getting too carried away yet. “Go on, pretty boy. Since you know how much I love to be bad… get us a slice of our trouble for the night. We’ve got so many more friends to meet.”

[thee-horny-thicky]

SingleFather!Nanami Headcanons

During a bout of insomnia, the idea of SingleFather!Nanami came to me. Out of all the JJK men, he'll be the best parent, and you can't change my mind.

TW: Platonic Nanami/Reader. Fem!Child Reader. Mentions of death. Mentions of sexual harassment. Angst. Canon Compliant. Approx 1K words.

Thinking about SingleFather!Nanami who after Haibara died, drowned himself in women to try to ease the pain. After all, Gojo and Geto always said how good sex felt, and he needed a pick me up. 

SingleFather!Nanami panics when his sneaky link tells him her period’s late. He rushed over to her place, pregnancy tests in hand. 

SingleFather!Nanami paces outside of the bathroom as she takes the tests, whose world comes to a halt when every single one is positive. He nearly had a panic attack when his FWB was adamant about not getting an abortion, and when changing her mind didn't work, he stormed out. 

SingleFather!Nanami ghosted his FWB for a week, until his consciousness got the better of him, and he called her up. 

SingleFather!Nanami swears to be present in the child's life and tries to attend every appointment. 

SingleFather!Nanami who pulls away from the world of Jujutsu, already decides his child's life is more important than a thankless duty.

SingleFather!Nanami only found out his FWB had a heart condition when it was too late, going into shock when he found out she died during the delivery. He doesn't see his baby for two days, too busy mourning the woman he'd formed a bond with. 

SingleFather!Nanami who first meets his daughter when he has to name you. When he holds you, your tiny hand clings to his fingers, melting his heart and making him swear to himself that he’d play both roles. 

SingleFather!Nanami who is a worry wort over you. He reads parenting book after parenting book, frets every time something is slightly wrong with you, and has more sleepless nights monitoring his baby girl than due to you screaming your little head off. 

SingleFather!Nanami who doesn't leave your side for the first six months, living off savings he stored away when he was a sorcerer. 

SingleFather!Nanami cried for nearly an hour when you said, “Dada,” as your first word. 

SingleFather!Nanami rues to leave your side when money dwindles, forcing him to work again. He takes as many jobs as possible to support you, whilst also going to college and caring for a baby. It's stressful, but he does it to give you a good life. 

SingleFather!Nanami nearly tripped over himself to get his camera when you take your first steps. 

SingleFather!Nanami fights back tears when he drops his daughter off during your first day of school. He's so emotional, you have to comfort him. 

SingleFather!Nanami can't help but narrow his eyes at the little boy who kissed his baby girl's cheek when he picked you up. You’re too young for boys, after all! 

SingleFather!Nanami helps with every assignment, signs you up for whatever club you want, and attends every recital, play, etc. Rather your performance is good or bad, they will be recorded, he will fawn over you, and he will give you pointers if you feel the need to improve.

SingleFather!Nanami catches the attention of many of the mothers, much to the dismay of their husbands. When he starts to get a little lonely, he starts to entertain a few of the single mothers.

SingleFather!Nanami swears off sex and dating after a girlfriend hits you. It took great restraint for him not to return the favor.

SingleFather!Nanami often thinks about when his daughter was small and gets a little teary-eyed. 

SingleFather!Nanami who can't help but feel dread when you start puberty earlier than expected. After getting over his initial panic, he starts prepping for your first period and takes it upon himself to buy you book after book about puberty. 

SingleFather!Nanami whose interest in Malaysia is piqued when you start gushing about the country's nature, especially the Sarawak Chamber and Taman Negara. He makes it a life goal to take you to Malaysia one day. 

 SingleFather!Nanami returns to sorcery when you confide in him that you see strange things. Still, he tries to keep you hidden from the higher-ups and Gojo, not wanting the sordid world of Jujutsu sorcery to reach you. 

SingleFather!Nanami reluctantly introduces you to Gojo when the man's stalking reveals your existence. He can't help but feel jealous when he sees how much you take to Gojo. He glared at the strongest when he insisted you call him Uncle, after promising to teach you cool things your father couldn’t. 

SingleFather!Nanami almost catches a felony when a group of teenage boys catcalls you. You may look older than most girls your age, but that doesn’t give them the right to harass you. After dealing with those lowlifes, he comforts you and starts teaching you self-defense.

SingleFather!Nanami gladly signs you up for martial arts classes and attends every tournament and competition. When Gojo finds out, he insists on tagging along, and cheers even louder than the blond.

SingleFather!Nanami wanted to take you trick-or-treating as he does every year. Instead, he’s forced to report to Shibuya, and can’t help but feel envy when you go with some friends instead. He swears he’ll bring you back buckets of candy to make it up.

SingleFather!Nanami fights his hardest to return back to you, but still can't escape Jogo's flames. 

SingleFather!Nanami can’t help but shed some tears when Mahito gets the best of him, knowing he’d never be able to see you again.

SingleFather!Nanami confides in Yuuji that he has a daughter, sharing your name with him. His dying request is that the boy be there for his baby girl. The relief he feels when his student agrees is indescribable.

Somehow, SingleFather!Nanami still dies with a smile on his face, knowing that even though you lost a father, your new big brother would do everything possible to protect you.

[o-hora-o]

do you have thoughts about any other researchers/scientists who the NA branch scientists might have known? such as Ford, Bohr, etc? I know you've mentioned them before and I was wondernig if you had thoughts about them.

I'm so thankful for this top-tier question 😭❤️ tho I'm not sure that you expected such delulu answer but I'm a nerd so here we go. To understand who the NA branch/42 lab might have known, we should dive into the world of science lore and go through connections between scientists who lived mostly in the late 19th-first half of the 20th century (hello, Hans Bethe, you 100-year-old cheater).

So, we have these 4 major groups: physicists, inventors/electrical engineers, chemists and mathematicians (yes, some of them can be put into several groups, but don’t mind it pls).  

Of course, this map can be expanded even further but it’d be too much. The main idea here is that all of them kinda knew each other one way or another.

Let's start with the biggest group: Physics

Niels Bohr is undoubtedly one of the biggest figures along with Einstein and Planck. They were like 3 holy spirits who became guiding lights for many other scientists. As a fun fact, Niels was in this Indian mythology fan club too.

For example Albert was fascinated by Hinduism and Buddhism, philosophical and cosmological concepts (the Upanishads text to be precise) and the idea of unity of all existence. So was Carl Jung btw, but he was more into the mythology part itself. Schrödinger, being a sucker for philosophy, was deeply influenced by Upanishads and Vedanta (It can be seen in his What is Life? book where he explored the idea of unity of the self with the universe and the existence of two souls: individual and universal, which was a parallel to how particles behave in the observer's presence). And in Bohr’s case, he was influenced by Hindu cosmology. Just as Erwin, he found parallels to his ideas in Indian philosophy. 

So, as I said, Niels Bohr was one of the most influential physicists and a central figure in the history of quantum mechanics and atomic theory. He was a life-long friend of Einstein but they had a silly relationship: they often debated on the interpretation of quantum mechanics. For example, Bohr was rooting for Copenhagen Interpretation.

The main idea of the Copenhagen Interpretation was that until you look at a particle, it doesn't have a certain position or speed, therefore it exists in different places all at once. But the moment you look at it, it chooses its place and speed. It's as if until you open your eyes, all things around you exist in different states. Feel paranoid now? You can thank Bohr and Heisenberg for that. "It’s not the particles' fault for acting weird, it’s just how the universe works at this super tiny level". But Einstein was skeptical of the view "How can particles be in two places at once? That’s just crazy!" and commented it as “God does not play dice with the universe”. 

So despite different views Einstein and Bohr kept being bff with mutual respect and admiration for each other. Imma just leave it here:

Max Planck, being not only one of the founding fathers of quantum theory but also a father figure to the science world itself, was both Einstein and Bohr’s mentor (Planck’s biography aka driven by vision broken by war is still my angst roman empire help, that was the saddest thing you can read). And Bohr, just like Planck, played a key role in mentoring the following generation of physicists too. 

And this is where we meet Werner Heisenberg, one of Bohr’s most gifted students. Heisenberg aka Uncertainty Principle guy, Heisenberg aka one of the main Architects of Quantum Mechanics guy, Heisenberg aka Schrödinger’s pain in the ass guy.

Friendship between Heisenberg and Bohr was truly a legendary one, Bohr treated Werner like a family member, like a son, but unfortunately this friendship was shattered when Heisenberg took part in the German nuclear project. 

There’s this mysterious story about Heisenberg’s visit to Niels Bohr in nazi-occupied Denmark in September 1941 and the story about unsent letters which were significant episodes in the history of quantum physics. “Mysterious” because it is unknown what exactly they talked about but it is said that during their conversation, Heisenberg seemed to avoid direct discussion about the atomic bomb and its consequences. That meeting was emotionally tense, with Bohr feeling betrayed by Heisenberg. 

It is also said that after the 1941 visit Heisenberg wrote an unsent letter to Bohr. The content of this letter remains unknown but it is known that Heisenberg was deeply upset and troubled by their tense conversation and relationship. Heisenberg had likely tried to express his confusion, regret, or desire to explain himself to Bohr. Some historians say that Heisenberg may have been trying to signal to Bohr that he had not been fully loyal to the German nuclear project or even that he had deliberately slowed its progress. 

In 1943 Bohr fled Denmark to escape the occupation. Before leaving, Bohr wrote an unsent letter to Heisenberg. He wrote how disappointed he was with Heisenberg, Bohr believed that the pursuit of knowledge could not be divorced from the responsibility of how that knowledge was applied. There was also the “Copenhagen” play written by Michael Frayn about this story between the two. Angst fic right there. 

Nevertheless, Werner interacted with many many greatest minds. Planck influenced him deeply and supported his work, Werner’s father was a friend of Sommerfeld, then he studied with Wolfgang Pauli and Max Born was another mentor of his and they both worked on Matrix Mechanics.

Schrödinger aka "I don't like it, and I'm sorry I ever had anything to do with it" guy, Schrödinger aka “I insist upon the view that all is waves” guy, being inspired by Louis de Broglie, had a totally different approach and contrary to Matrix Mechanics he developed Wave Mechanics. Bohr was more of a philosophical mentor-debater to Erwin and even then their relationship was far more distant than the one between Bohr and Heisenberg. Just like Einstein, Erwin was wary of Copenhagen Interpretation. Unlike Einstein, this classical vs modern approaches disagreement became a rift that didn’t let Erwin build a strong bond with Heisenberg or Bohr.

And the funniest part is that Schrödinger’s “cat experiment” was created to prove Copenhagen Interpretation wrong and absurd (though it didn’t contradict Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle).

Once Bohr invited Schrödinger to be his house guest and then started a debate about the Copenhagen Interpretation. He tried to convince Erwin that it was right for several days after which Erwin fell ill and Niel’s wife had to nurse him.

“There was Bohr, the indefatigable debater that he was, sitting on the edge of the bed continuing the debate, oblivious to the late hour, as though he were engaged in the most serious of scientific discussions, while I, in my bed, could hardly keep my eyes open".

Btw De Broglie's theory was inspired by Einstein AND became publicly known because of Einstein. De Broglie's work could have gone unnoticed for years, if Einstein had not paid attention to it. Einstein told Born about this idea and therefore triggered a chain of new theories in the world of quantum mechanics. At that time, physicists listened to every word of Einstein, and as soon as he mentioned de Broglie's ideas in an article, Schrödinger was immediately inspired.

Speaking of Max Born, he was also one of the central figures in the quantum mechanics field and a part of Copenhagen Interpretation club. He first studied mathematics and turned to physics only after finishing his doctorate. Because of that Born wrote his works with exceptional mathematical precision which was very different from Bohr's intricate theoretical sketches, which contained brilliant ideas and physical intuition, but often required refinement in the mathematical part (the curse of many physicists). However, both geniuses were important to a new understanding of atoms. And of course Born knew everyone I mentioned previously and even more since he mentored not only Heisenberg or Oppenheimer but he had many assistants who were also well known physicists.

But let’s go back to the one who had the most connections, Einstein, and look at his relationship with the Curie family (of course Chemistry group can be expanded way more but we’re trying to not go far away from the ae cast here). Even though Albert didn’t have such a strong bond with Curie as he had with Bohr and Planck, he and Marie were great friends who built their friendship on shared experience of being outcasts. In his letter Einstein expressed admiration for her work on radioactivity while Marie was deeply impressed by special theory of relativity. Their friendship is mostly known for Einstein's support during Curie’s scandal in 1911 (Einstein was one of a few who defended her). And in return Marie supported and encouraged Albert’s work that at that time was seen as absurd and outrageous. Moreover they both played important roles in the Solvay Conferences (another science world crossover aside from Manhattan Project). 

Yes, they didn’t work together on scientific projects but instead they just preferred sending letters to each other discussing either work or personal matters like families, concerns about too much public attention or Sklodowska expressing how difficult it was for her to be a woman in the male-scientific world. 

By "concerns about too much public attention" I also mean that Einstein disliked giving interviews. As he once said:

But I can give you this silly anecdote instead:

Since I mentioned how Einstein’s work challenged the science world shaped by Newton, we need to meet a certain astrophysicist in this story. To many, Einstein’s ideas seemed to rock the foundations of classical mechanics which was a true blasphemy. But most importantly, everyone thought that it was unprovable. How to measure the bending of space-time?

And this is where Sir Arthur Eddington appeared on stage, a British astronomer and mathematician.

In 1915 Einstein published his general theory of relativity, which proposed that massive objects like stars and planets could bend space-time. This theory, even more radical than his special theory of relativity, predicted that light could be bent by gravity - a phenomenon that could be tested by observing stars near the Sun during a total solar eclipse. Eddington saw an opportunity. For years, astronomers had speculated about Einstein's theory and the coming eclipse of 1919 would offer Eddington the perfect opportunity to put Einstein’s prediction to the test.

As the moon passed in front of the Sun, they observed stars near the Sun's edge. According to Einstein’s theory, the light from those stars should’ve appeared to shift, bending as it passed near the Sun’s massive gravitational field. Eddington’s results confirmed the prediction. The light had indeed bent, just as Einstein had said it would.

The news sent shockwaves through the scientific community. Einstein’s theory of general relativity had been validated by experiment. The very fabric of space-time, once a mathematical abstraction, became a proven reality. Eddington’s observations were seen as a triumph for the world of physics and for the first time Einstein’s name became known to the wider world. 

In the following years the friendship between Eddington and Einstein deepened. Eddington explained and defended Einstein’s work to the English-speaking world. Their correspondence, filled with mutual respect and admiration, continued until Eddington’s death in 1944.

Of course I also should mention Marcel Grossmann. He was a Swiss mathematician and also Einstein’s friend and a classmate. They had a close work relationship regarding development of General Relativity theory. 

You see, despite the stereotype, Einstein was good in mathematics, but he was more about physical intuition. And since he didn’t have this intuition in mathematics like, for example, Ramanujan, he encountered mathematical problems that were beyond his own skills while developing his theory of General Relativity. Therefore, he needed help from mathematicians like Marcel Grossmann. 

Grossmann was well-versed in the mathematics needed for the theory of General Relativity. He introduced Einstein to mathematical concepts such as Riemannian geometry and Ricci calculus which was much needed for the equations that describe the bending of spacetime in General Relativity. Without Grossmann's help, finding mathematical language to express physical ideas of the theory would’ve been Einstein’s huge headache.  

Aside from Grossmann there was also Hermann Minkowski – another great mathematician and a former professor of Einstein. Instead of assisting in the theory of General Relativity, he helped with the development of Special Relativity theory. Minkowski realized that Einstein's theory could be elegantly expressed in terms of a four-dimensional spacetime through the mathematical language.

While we’re in this Mathematics group, let me introduce you to one of the big heads - John von Neumann. A true legend of many fields and thanks to that he had vast connections (and thanks to participating in the Manhattan Project too).  

One anecdote about the relationship between Einstein and von Neumann comes from von Neumann’s colleague and Einstein’s friend, mathematician Kurt Gödel. According to Gödel, one day, while Einstein was talking with von Neumann, the topic turned to the nature of space and time. Einstein was very passionate about this and more philosophical while von Neumann took a more practical mathematical approach.

"You are thinking about space and time as something fundamental. But we can make it all a product of the way we approach the equations".

Einstein chuckled and remarked:

"Well, John, you have a way of turning the most beautiful ideas into something utterly cold and mechanical".

And of course, Bohr had intense debates about the Interpretation with John too.  But, despite their differences, they respected each other’s intellects, and Bohr even referred to von Neumann as “the cleverest man in the world”.

Von Neumann’s relationship with Enrico Fermi was a close one. Fermi and von Neumann could converse about everything, be it nuclear physics or latest developments in quantum mechanics. Yeah, they shared many interests. Together, their abilities led to some interesting collaborations during the Manhattan Project and in nuclear physics.

My boy, my proud and joy, Richard Feynman, the charismatic and playful physicist (no, really, he was the legendary childish rascal, Surely You're Joking, Mr. Feynman was a chef’s kiss) who would later become famous for his work in quantum electrodynamics and his ability to dumb down complex ideas (no, really, The Feynman Lectures on Physics -), had a deep admiration for von Neumann and was influenced by von Neumann’s ability to make tough problems elegantly simple.

Yeah, one of the most famous stories about von Neumann is that he was a child prodigy. When he was just six years old, he could divide large numbers in his head. Then, his parents had to hire a tutor to teach him mathematics but the tutor quickly realized that von Neumann was far beyond him. One day, von Neumann’s father gave him a large number and the young John immediately calculated the square root. The father asked him how he could do that and Von Neumann simply replied with "I memorized the tables of square roots".

The reason why it was important to add him here was that not only that he knew mostly everyone but also he knew Alan Turing and Alan Turing is someone lab 42 might have worked with.

Enrico Fermi, usually known for his paradox (shout-out to Remembrance of Earth's Past fans) was also a huge figure in physics, a brilliant man with dry humor who created the first nuclear reactor and took part in the Manhattan Project. 

Fermi and Niels Bohr were two of the central figures in the development of nuclear physics, and their collaboration during the Manhattan Project was essential to the creation of the first atomic bomb. 

Oppenheimer described Fermi’s ability to get to the core of a problem saying:

"When I have a difficult problem, I go to Fermi. He just looks at it, and then, within minutes, tells me what’s wrong and what I should do"

Another Fermi’s famous collaboration was with physicist Leo Szilard, with whom he developed the concept of the first nuclear reactor. 

Szilard and Fermi had this funny interaction during the construction of the reactor:

Szilard: Enrico, are you sure this will work? 

Fermi: *smiles* We’ll know in a few minutes 

Now, the inventors. Let’s talk about Ford and Edison~

They were THE besties. The story of how Ford and Edison met is just dhsdfhfjgh it’s the story of two pioneers who first met in the early 1890s and formed a strong friendship that lasted till the end. 

Ford was kinda an unknown engineer with a huge passion for machinery and innovations who worked at the Edison Illuminating Company in Detroit. One day, Ford got a chance to meet Edison, and according to Ford himself, the encounter was nothing short of life-changing.

"I was just a boy, and when I met Edison for the first time, I had the feeling that I had met the right man at the right time. He was a great influence on me. I was keen to learn how things were done, and he had a way of seeing things that made you want to follow him". 

Ford admired Edison’s vision of using technology to improve everyday life. Ford saw in Edison a kindred spirit, someone who was not afraid of failure and who constantly looked for ways to change the world through innovations (no, fr, the man couldn’t live a day without coming up with new ideas). In return, Edison was impressed with Ford's enthusiasm and his skills in the engineering field.

Ford's dream to build a car and his persistent drive to make things work even when others doubted him resonated deeply with Edison’s own mantra: “Genius is one percent inspiration, ninety-nine percent perspiration”. 

It is said that once Edison told Ford:

"I’ve never met a man who knew so much about engines as you do. I think you’re going to make a lot of progress, young man. You have something inside you." 

These words meant the world to Ford (At that time he was working on his Model T and established his Ford Motor Company which, of course, Edison used to visit). In the 1900s Ford and Edison began to form a deep personal friendship. The two often spent time together at Ford's estate or in Edison's laboratory. 

"Ford is one of the great men of the modern age. He has an instinctive ability to build things, and he's not afraid of taking risks. I think he will be remembered as the man who revolutionized the way people live".

"He taught me to never be afraid of making mistakes. Edison was a man who would look at a failure as nothing more than a step in the direction of success. He always kept moving forward".

In later years, the friendship between Ford and Edison continued to flourish. Moreover, Edison and Ford (+ Harvey Firestone and John Burroughs) had camping trips which became a cherished tradition, they called themselves "Vagabonds" who annually embarked on a journey to reflect on life. Ford became a revolutionary figure of the automobile industry while Edison’s inventions changed the world in ways that Ford could hardly have imagined when they first met.

Edison’s health worsened during the 1920s, he had been suffering from many illnesses but still continued to work in his West Orange laboratory. Ford offered financial and emotional support and was one of the last people to visit Edison before Thomas died in 1931.

Ford wrote:

"It is a great loss, not only to us, but to the whole world. Edison was a man who believed in progress and the power of human imagination. I have always thought of him as one of the greatest minds America has ever known."

Yes, Edison was a world-changing man who was interested in many things, including wireless telegraphy. He even received a patent for the early version of wireless telegraph before Guglielmo Marconi’s breakthrough in the history of radio. But Edison was more focused on the DC (direct current) and even though he was highly competitive, Thomas never fought with Marconi about radio patents. Instead of competing with Marconi, Edison chose war with George Westinghouse. 

In the meantime Tesla was involved both in the radio patents war and AC/DC war. Tesla felt as if Marconi stole his ideas or copied his patents about wireless transmission through radio frequency. Marconi was awarded in 1904 which Tesla felt bitter about, especially since he had the curse of not being recognised by the public. But then in 1943 it was acknowledged that many of Marconi’s innovations were based on Tesla’s earlier work. Unfortunately Tesla died earlier that year. 

And if we talk about the AC/DC war, Tesla was rooting for AC (alternative current), so was Westinghouse. Westinghouse hired Tesla in the 1880s to work on improving the AC and together they successfully competed against Edison. 

"War of Currents" is the most famous rivalry in the history of science and technology.

Edison thought that DC was safer and easier to control. “We will make electricity so cheap that only the rich will burn candles” he said. But Edison’s success was limited by the nature of DC itself, it required power stations to be built very close to where the electricity was used. Tesla, on the other hand, created the AC system that could transmit electricity over long distances, unlike DC.

"I don’t believe that the electric current will ever be the one to be destroyed, I am confident that my system will triumph". And Tesla was right about it.

If you've read this far, you likely share a similar reaction:

------------------The AE hcs------------------

Planck took Ein, Schrödinger, and Bohr (let’s change Niels name to Ellen) under her wing. Emma corresponded with her colleagues, mathematicians and astrophysicists, to help Lieserl prove her theory. It was decided to send Lieserl to London where she studied under Eddington and greatest mathematicians of the time. She eventually stayed at the College, continuing her research there. Meanwhile, Schrödinger and Bohr stayed in the NA branch. At some point Schrodinger escaped Bohr to rehab to finish her work in peace and quiet and Bohr, being bohr-ed out of her mind, entered her mentor era and met Heisenberg. Together, they developed the Copenhagen Interpretation - unfortunately for Schrödinger who returned around then and immediately regretted it. Ellen and Lieserl had a deep passion for cosmology that Emma had introduced them to during the early years of mentoring them. Ellen would often engage in long passionate debates with Ein about the nature of the universe. Her fascination with the cosmos wasn’t the only strong forte of hers for she also loved discussing Indian mythology with Tesla, and at times, Schrödinger would get dragged into these discussions as well. On the other hand, Nancy’s father had been a lifelong friend of Ford and not only her family owned Ford cars but also, after Thomas’s passing, Ford supported Nancy both financially and emotionally. This was crucial as Nancy had inherited the biggest influential company of the country. With Ford’s mentorship, she was able to step into her new role with confidence.

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

If someone has more hcs, please be welcome

[embracing-the-ineffable]

Advice for Challenging Times

Do something kind for yourself today. Cuddle your fur baby. Spend time playing with your kids. Get outside and feel the sun on your skin. It’s okay to feel joy today, too, and if you find some pass it on.

Take care of yourself, today and going forward. Get a good night’s sleep, eat what sustains you and gives you energy, move your body as you’re able. We need you at your best to fight this fight. Don’t give up on your life or your sobriety or whatever hard-won progress you’ve made fighting your demons. We need YOU, full stop.

Take inventory of what you need to do, right now, to protect yourself and the people you love. Do you need to seek preventive care, get surgery, figure out long-term birth control, or anything else before the end of the year? What vaccinations can you get or get a booster for in case they’re banned or dropped from insurance (not just COVID and flu, though definitely those, but also pneumonia, shingles, HPV, Tdap, etc.)? What legal protections do you need that will be more accessible now than in January? Is where you are the safest place you can be? Is it where you feel called to be, to make a difference?

Make a plan for how you’ll build resistance as a daily practice. Will you pack a bag with everything you need to show up to a protest, so you can come whenever you’re called? Can you write letters to reps during your lunch breaks or as you’re having your morning coffee? What tools do you have that can be bent toward justice, and how can you use them regularly and sustainably? You don’t have to pick one huge battle and win it; you do have to be a part of the work.

Connect with your community. They need you; you need them. If you don’t have community, prioritize finding it. Make a practice of smiling at your neighbors; join a dinner group or a club or a spiritual community; come together with your colleagues; ask friends to introduce you to their worlds. The work is more manageable together. The world is less scary with others by your side.

Make a plan for how you’ll stay informed without becoming paralyzed. You must know what’s happening, but do not mistake self-flagellation for action. Find a space and a community that acknowledges the pain of what’s happening and feeds your hope and fires you up for the fight.

Know where to place your blame and anger. There is plenty of it to go around, much of it deserved. But there are also, undeniably, systems that were built to work against us, and more people who want to make the world better than who want to watch it burn. Those in power want you to lose sight of the humanity around you; cling rebelliously to it instead. I love you. I believe in you. I believe in us.

Wonderful advice by Rachel Stark

[yourlittlettoy]

Alright, it’s long overdue but let’s finally get a lil intro post going ☺️

Hi everyone!! My name is Cece 💕👋🏻 it’s so very nice to see you here 🥰😉

My pronouns are she/her 🎀 , I’m in my 20s 🙆🏻‍♀️, I’m bisexual 🤝🏻, and I’m a… lee 🙈 (18+ only on this account pls and thx ☺️)

T-wording (yeah yeah I can’t say the t-word, sue me lmao) is certainly my main kink, but I may or may not also have certain other “preferences” as well 😳 but you’ll have to find those out yourself if you were so inclined ~

I’m a shy gal, despite sharing more than a reasonable amount of traits as a typical golden retriever lol. I’m very nerdy, enthusiastic, curious to a fault, certified member of the good girl’s club 😇, and have so much love 4 u 💖💘💗!! However, unfortunately for you, even the love won’t stop me from being a serious pain in the butt. Consider this your warning ⚠️😂.

Last thing I really want to mention, is that I am not good at being consistent when it comes to responding to messages/asks. I just want to make it clear right now that: my response times or responses at all (or potentially lack thereof) does not reflect a lack of affection and/or enthusiasm towards getting to know you, valuing you, or appreciating your interaction! I truly am so thankful for each and every one of you that take time out of your day to reach out/interact with lil ol’ me 🥺 and in a perfect world I would be responding to everything and everyone with full attention and time devotion! I just also lead a busy life outside of Tumblr and often time is simply scarce. Please grant me this grace 😊 and believe me when I say I LOVE READING ALL YOUR INTERACTIONS whether I have a chance to tell you that in a response or not! Thank you for this treat even though I can’t always reciprocate 💞 (feel free to double/triple etc message to keep yourself at the top of my inbox if you really want a response tho! Cause believe me I wanna give it to you! So the frequent reminder helps!)

Anyway, if you made it all the way here, thank you for reading my intro post!! Welcome to my blog! Hope you enjoy your stay here 😚💝 stay lovely ✨💫⭐️

[crowsource]

🐦‍⬛ 𝐖𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 — quotes taken from the first novel in hafsah faizal's sands of arawiya duology. some edits have been made to allow for rp purposes. feel free to adjust for pronouns/names/etc.

❝ We hunt the flame, the light in the darkness, the good this world deserves. ❞

❝ A thousand leagues and a thousand sands. For you, a thousand times I would defy the sun. ❞

❝ Heart of my heart. Moon of my soul. ❞

❝ If I told you my name, would you bow? Or would you flee? ❞

❝ A life without purpose may be no life, but a life without love is nothing but an existence. ❞

❝ Bring the desert to its knees. ❞

❝ He was a mess of scars like the sky was a mess of stars. ❞

❝ Love is for children. Death is for fools. ❞

❝ Suffering is our fate. ❞

❝ There is a certain beauty in chaos, magnificence in the uncontrollable. ❞

❝ Promise me that if you die, you will die fighting to return to me. ❞

❝ Knowledge without action is vanity, but action without knowledge is insanity. ❞

❝ Darkness is my destiny. ❞

❝ There was nothing more respectable and dangerous than a woman of confidence. ❞

❝ But eyes couldn't stay closed forever, unless one was dead. And the dead never dreamed. ❞

❝ Monsters preferred solitude. ❞

❝ Together, we will raise the dunes from the earth and rain death from the sky. Together, we are capable of anything. ❞

❝ He didn't live. He existed. And no one understood the difference between the two until they ceased to live. ❞

❝ They'll tell stories about us. ❞

❝ Death is the one thing certain in human life. Why does it still come as a surprise when it happens? ❞

❝ If you want me obedient, ___, kill me and carry my corpse. ❞

❝ He would not fear the darkness. He was the darkness. ❞

❝ A monster will always be enslaved to a master. ❞

❝ Sometimes, when you live a life of captivity, trapped for so long, freedom becomes a thing to fear. ❞

❝ May your hearts remain entwined beyond death. ❞

❝ The first step to getting anywhere is believing you can. ❞

❝ He came here for one act alone: murder. ❞

❝ He's not always this grumpy. Then again, he's one of those people who talks less and murders more. ❞

❝ A person without hope is a body without a soul. ❞

❝ People lived because she killed. ❞

❝ People died because he lived. ❞

❝ Who decides what's out of reach, if not we ourselves? ❞

❝ You are the compass in the storm, the guide in the dark. You will always find your way. ❞

❝ This was pain worse than a sword. This was forgetting and then remembering everything afresh, the curse of memories. ❞

❝ Men can be such beautiful trash. ❞

❝ A life without purpose is no life at all. ❞

❝ You remind me that hope is not lost. ❞

❝ That was life, wasn't it? A collection of moments, a menagerie of people. Everyone stranded everywhere, always. ❞

❝ Confidence breeds freedom. ❞

❝ No one can be that pure. ❞

❝ Death will be her companion. He's kept her safe all this time. Why stop now? ❞

❝ If only you knew what it was like to feel the weight of your gaze. ❞

❝ I just think that once you're bound to another, you change. That for the happiness of the one you love, and for your own, you change without knowing it. ❞

❝ That does not mean I cannot love a monster. ❞

❝ What are you? To define is to limit. ❞

❝ If you're going to save the world, you might as well do it in style! ❞

❝ Congratulations, ___. You're officially a murderer. Welcome to the club. ❞

❝ Think of all the women you can help by being you. ❞

❝ Did you think this was your chance for redemption? Darkness is your destiny. You were born for hell. ❞

❝ Tragedies happen once; memories relive them eternally. ❞

❝ You do it for them. For them to love you. ❞

❝ I once loved. ❞

❝ How come something so painless as the loss of memory hurt so much? ❞

❝ A life with magic means nothing to me if you aren't in it. ❞

❝ You and I are strangers. ❞

❝ I'm big enough to keep anyone busy for awhile. ❞

❝ Will there ever come a time when you won't see me as a monster? ❞

❝ You care for him. ❞

❝ I've never seen a face so open. ❞