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theitgirlnetwork · 17 hours

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Earn It

Ch. 5: Pretend With Me

Note: Hello! Thank you for all of the support you've all shown this story. Thank you for the notes, reblogs, messages, and comments I love interacting with you all! We've got our first time skip so I hope it's not too confusing. Once again, I'll remind everyone that the characters are meant to be just as complex as those in the movie and so they will do...questionable things. But that's part of the fun...not being them! So I hope you all enjoy! <3

Warnings: Cheating (fr this time y'all :(), explicit sexual content (MDNI!!!!!), small mention of disordered eating, and some strong language.

Taglist: @spookystitchery@anehkael@fkaams@butterflyybabe@sun2flower @holierthancunt @silkenthusiasts @wolflover384 @liziihorta @summerssover @jackierose902109

Present Day (California) :

“They won’t answer any questions about that, don’t bother asking. Make sure there’s at least one close up on the ring and we only film from the angles we discussed, understand me?” Kiely takes a deep breath, brushes her hands down her dress, straightening out the wrinkles at the bottom and noting to herself that she needs to stop by Target today to get a new steamer.

This job is a big opportunity, she can’t afford to fuck it up. Out of all the applicants they decided to give her a chance. She pushes through the dark front doors, fixing a potted flower plant hanging near the doorway before glancing back sternly at the camera crew and closing the door.

Kiely does wish that her trial week wasn’t the same week as this interview.

She presses her finger to her earpiece to turn on the speaker as her heels click across marble floors, her steps are long strides. “Crews’ in place, we need a clear house, just the family. They want this in one take. Let’s go.”

The blonde woman raises a shaky fist to the Grenadil African Blackwood door, knocking softly once before steeling herself and knocking more assertively the second time.

“Yeah?”

Kiely turns the cold golden door knob and stops right at the threshold of the master bedroom, her back rod straight as she addresses the people in front of her.

“Mr. and Mrs. Donaldson? They’re ready for you.”

12 Years Earlier:

3:22 p.m.: So, that smoothie that you recommended? It’s fucking disgusting.

Heaven giggles at her phone before flipping it over so she can’t see the front of the screen, sliding down into a split to complete her stretches. She hums in satisfaction to herself as she stretches forward to reach her front foot. It’s peaceful like this.

She loves coming to the studio early. After the bullshit classes she takes to remain eligible for the dance program, she rushes here to just dance. No other dancers, no teacher or choreographer watching. Heaven can just be with the choreography.

She has a habit of getting fixated on a piece and doing it over and over until she masters it. Then, she does it over and over until it’s not fun anymore. It’s her award winning strategy, to actually fall in love with the pieces she dances to.

For some reason, she was struggling to become Juliet. She knows she has the technique for the dance, that much is obvious. But something about this role wasn’t connecting for her. She just feels like she can’t force herself to give the vibe of a 15 year old girl whose parents were absent enough to let her fall in love with a 20 year old loser.

Oh and Romeo can’t fucking dance.

Correction. Peter who is supposed to be Romeo can’t fucking dance.

Heaven stands from her split, grabbing her phone with her to respond to the text waiting for her, not noticing the uncontrollable smile that had formed on her face.

3:30 p.m.: It’s not supposed to taste good, it’s supposed to be good for you, Arthur.

They had been texting back and forth a lot since the birthday party. Not many phone calls, but messages here and there. They range from checking in to arguing about the various media they both consume. It’s like an unspoken agreement they have not to talk about Tashi or Patrick. Anytime they did the jokes would halt and suddenly Heaven would feel a rock in her stomach, unable to text back.

Her phone buzzes again and before she can open the little white envelope on the screen she hears several sets of footsteps behind her. Without turning around she rushes over to put her phone in her duffle bag and heads back to the middle of the room, settling into first position next to Peter and staring tensely forward as they wait for the rest of the cast and the premier maitre de ballet, Madame Fontaine. Along with the older woman is her assistant choreographer, Fallon, the only other person who will acknowledge that Peter can’t fucking dance.

“Afternoon, all.” Madame Fontaine offers the group a brief, tight smile as she stands before them, her flats clicking on the stage. “Romeo, Juliet. We will work on the pair of pas de deux performances after warm-up.”

“Madame.” Heaven nods, turning to go to the bar toward the back of the room. She can feel Peter behind her, looking at her. His cheap ass cologne fills her nostrils as he leans forward to murmur in her ear.

“Think you can actually act like you at least like me today?”

Heaven slips into third position, facing forward as she continues through her warm up, shrugging at his question. “I don’t need to like you, Juliet needs to be in love with Romeo. The dance will show that.”

“Maybe if we spent some time together-”

“I’m in a relationship.” she dismisses.

“Really?” He scoffs. Gripping the bar Peter stretches his leg into the air, watching Heaven do the same, he strains to get his kick as high as hers. “What does your boyfriend do?”

“He’s a professional tennis player. So is my girlfriend.”

Peter’s brows furrow as he watches the woman in front of him wrap up her warm ups, cracking her neck absently as he stares at her. “You…so…”

“Okay.” Heaven huffs, turning to the man, craning her neck and fixing him with a wary look as she stands facing him with her arms crossed. “Yes, I have a boyfriend, his name is Patrick. I also have a girlfriend, her name is Tashi and she is the girl you saw here before. Yes, they are also together, no we’re not looking for a fourth and if we were it would never be you. No, we aren’t open so don’t ask me out again. And Peter, even if I was single, I would literally fucking never fuck someone who can’t do a simple fucking lift.” With that she pushes past him to find Madame Fontaine stopping when she hears him over her shoulder.

“Well maybe if you weren’t so heavy I could lift you easier.”

Heaven doesn’t even bat an eyelash at the insult, instead just pursing her lips and getting into the position for the first pose of the “Love Dance”, the first pas de deux of the piece. As she goes through the movements on the stage no one would be able to tell that Peter had said what he said.

She holds him close and twirls prettily. She leans into him with all of the trust of the world as he butchers his half of the piece, failing in the lift not because of her weight, she tells herself, but because his hand placement is wrong.

Heaven thinks logically, like Tashi would tell her to. Other people have lifted her before. It’s not her.

So she can swallow the lump in her throat until after rehearsal is over.

“Answer.” Heaven bites her lip as she drums her fingers against the steering wheel, her phone is balanced between her cheek and shoulder, vibrating against her ear as it rings. “Tashi, answer.”

Hi, this is Tashi Duncan, leave a message after the beep, thanks.

She shouldn’t have come. Tashi has two matches this week, Pepperdine and then Princeton, she doesn’t need to be distracted. She doesn’t have time to be distracted. That’s not what they do to each other, she knows Tashi needs to focus before a match just like Heaven needs to be distracted before a performance.

But after rehearsal ended, her focus on the beautiful dance, and getting her body to move the way it needed to to tell the story faded. Then all she was left with was the sound of Peter’s voice mixing with her mother’s and the personal trainer she’d hired her when she was only 10. And suddenly she found herself speeding down the road in a silent car, driving 5 hours and 13 minutes to Stanford.

She told herself as she weaved through the cars that she just needed to get away. That this was okay because she was supposed to be heading down the next day anyway. That she was only here to see Tashi.

“Fuck.” The girl huffs, pulling the phone away so hard one of her hoop earrings falls out of her ear, tumbling to the floor as she dials another number. Unlike Tashi, he actually picks up.

“Hey, babe.”

“Hi, baby, hi.” She sits up against the leather seat. “Are you, um, busy, or…”

“Uh, no, not-not really.” Patrick’s muffled voice through the phone settles her nerves a little. “What’s up?”

“Nothing I just wanted to talk to you or something-” Heaven hears laughter and the clattering of glass in the background. She can faintly make out the words to Candy Shop playing in whatever bar he was pretending not to be in. “You’re out.”

“Babe, I can talk, are you okay?”

“Mhm.”

“I hate that ‘mhm’, ‘hm’ shit you guys do just…Heaven, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I had, like, the most shitty rehearsal.” Heaven looks out at a couple of students stumbling drunkenly, shaking her head to herself as she sees a t-shirt with distinct letters spelling out “The Duncanator” on it. “The guy playing Romeo, he’s like a fucking idiot and he wants to fuck me-”

“Don’t most people?”

“I’m not-” Heaven huffs out a breath, head dropping forward against the wheel in annoyance. This is who her boyfriend is. He makes jokes about serious things. He doesn’t take anything serious because it never fucking is. But what is she supposed to do? Berate him for trying to make her laugh when she’s upset. Get mad at him for perpetually being in a state of relaxation that she’s almost never in. Heaven doesn’t want to live in the land of not giving a fuck about anything, she isn’t built like that. “H-yeah. That’s funny.” she forces a giggle, scrubbing her hand angrily at the drops that managed to squeeze their way out of her eyes.

“Good, you’re laughing, m’glad you’re feeling better.”

“Yep, thank you, Patrick.”

“No problem, Hev, look I’m out right now but I’ll see you tomorrow right? You’re coming down to Stanford right?”

“Um, yeah.” She says staring out at the school buildings from the parking lot. “I’ll be there.”

After a couple more slurred jokes from her boyfriend who shouldn’t be drinking while on tour and a couple attempted calls to Tashi, Heaven climbs out of the car, deciding to just go to the girl’s building herself.

She was determined not to go crawling to he who shall not be named. No. She would not see Art, because then he would give her that look. That look he does with his stupid monochromatic eyes that puppy dog look he gets when she’s happy, when she’s sad, when she’s anything. Like he’ll just do anything. It’s distracting and it makes her feel weird.

And she’s taken. So, they’ll stick to texting, that’s safe. So, no, she won’t call him. Not to tell him about her shitty day. Not even to ask him where the actual hell Tashi’s building was.

So instead she planned to wander aimlessly until she saw a building that looked familiar.

She walks along the cobblestone roads, squinting to find something that would remind her which direction she was supposed to be going in.

“Heaven?”

The woman freezes at the voice behind her, cursing herself and whatever god that curated this situation as she slowly turns to see Art. “Arthur.”

Her breath catches as she gets a good look at him. He’s even hotter than she remembers, standing tall amongst a group of his teammates. His racket bag slung across his back, the strap tight against his chest that was currently filling out the dorky ass Stanford Men’s Tennis shirt that he was somehow making look like the sexiest outfit ever.

This college tennis shit was really working for him.

But what brings the wide smile to her face that she couldn’t bite back, despite how much the logical part of her brain telling her she needed to, is those damn puppy dog eyes and the bright crooked smile he offers her.

Art takes a step forward, it almost looks like a reflex, but he pauses, smile dropping slightly as he tucks his hands into his tennis shorts, waiting to see what Heaven does.

And she can’t help it. Her legs move on their own, she can swear she didn’t consciously take three quick steps over to Art. And she didn’t take two more big ones when he met her the rest of the way, arms open as he dips low lifting her up and hugs her waist. And she definitely doesn’t wrap her legs around his waist when they meet. “Hi.” he says softly, swinging her back and forth.

“Hi!” she smiles back.

“What are you” he places her down so close to himself that their chests brush, craning his head down to look at her, brushing his thumbs over her hips through her t-shirt before releasing her fully. “What are you doing here?”

“Um, Pepperdine.” She tries to shrug easily, struggling to focus with him this close.

“You’re…uh, you’re a day early.” Art says, biting his lip a little, rocking on his feet.

“I know, I just had a rough day and I came to, um-”

“See Tashi.” He finishes for her, nodding his head. “You had a rough day?” He asks, eyes searching hers as he ignores the calls from his friends behind him, demanding that he introduce them to his hot friend. Art’s lips part as if he’s planning to say something before he snaps it shut, a beat passes before he trusts himself to speak again. “She’s gonna be on the court until late.”

“Fuck, yeah, she’s gonna be pissed, she hates when I throw her off before matches, she has this whole ritual situation, I just really couldn’t be at school right now.” Heaven groans, tossing her head back in frustration.

“You could, you could come with me. I’m gonna go off campus for a little bit, go to Dave & Buster’s with my friends, you should come and blow off some steam, Hev.”

Heaven glances around suddenly conscious that she drove all the way here in a haze like a maniac and despite telling herself she wasn’t here for Art she managed to be here, standing in front of him, notably not with Tashi. And yet, next thing she knew, she was kicking her feet, sitting on Art’s bed while he took a shower, so they could go to Dave & Buster’s.

Art knows that what he’s doing is not…healthy. It’s not good that he’s currently out with his best friend’s girlfriend (though one might still argue that Patrick had two and Art had none.) and he was enjoying the fact that everyone here thought she was his.

It had started with his teammates. They’d seen the movie scene-esque display of Art lifting the girl in the air in excitement upon seeing her and suddenly, murmurs of the fact that Art doesn’t really entertain any of the girls who talk to him on campus seemed to make sense to them. They nudged him as they walked and wiggled their eyebrows as he held the door open for Heaven, guiding her with his hand on the small of her back.

He’d tried correcting them. Originally. Sort’ve.

Well, Matt asked if she was his girl and he’d responded with ‘c’mon man, what does it look like?’

Jesus, maybe there is a reason me and Patrick are friends.

But they were having so much fun, playing games and Heaven had been smiling so much. At him. And he didn’t have to share it. He was fucking happy.

“Let me get you something to eat, on me, Hev, come on.” Art says nudging her as he pulls their game card out of the skee ball machine. “Then we can talk about your shitty day.”

Heaven’s nose scrunches in a way that makes Art want to kiss it, her lips, whatever else she has to offer and she snatches the game card from him and takes a couple of steps back, a smirk on her face as she holds it away from him. “Or…we could play some more games.”

“I’m hungry.” Art cocks his head to the side, reaching for the card and laughing when she snatches it away. “And I want you to come eat with me. Please.”

“One more game.”

“Come on, Art, the lady wants one more game.” One of his teammates, Kyle says smugly, tossing his arm around Heaven as he approaches from behind.

Heaven’s lip curls in dismissal for a moment before her expression morphs into something more sinister. “Yeah,” she says sweetly, “M’just asking for one more.”

“Hev.” Art scoffs, holding his hand out again, embarrassed at how irritated he is by Kyle’s arm over her shoulders.

“How about ping pong? If you win, we’ll go get some food and talk about whatever you want to talk about. And if,” her manicured hand reaches up and pats the one Kyle is dangling off her shoulder. “Kyle wins, I’ll play some games with him.”

Something feels so familiar about this moment. The innocent look on her face was only marred by the challenging raised eyebrow that Heaven couldn’t help but have. The look of expectation. It reminds Art of the day he’d lost to Patrick. The expression of ‘is that all?’ on her face.

This is stupid. He thinks, working his jaw as he stares down at the girl. It’s dumb.

“This is really fucking dumb.” he laughs, bouncing the ping pong ball on the table, rolling his eyes when Heaven shrugs, tilting her head as if to say, ‘go on’. “You’re seriously gonna go with him if I lose?”

“You’re not gonna fucking lose.” she murmurs under her breath. “We’re just having fun.”

“You’re trying to get out of talking about whatever you’re upset about, but m’not gonna forget-”

“Kiss for good luck?”

That has him whipping his head to her. He would be embarrassed if he could think about anything other than the offer she’d placed on the table. Like a dog to a bone immediately all of his focus is drawn down to her lips. “What?”

“You heard me, Arthur.” Heaven grabs his hand holding the paddle and brings it up between their faces, switching it’s position so that he’s holding the handle out to her and brings her glossed lips down to it, kissing it softly. “Kay, good luck!” she chirps, bouncing away from him to watch the game.

“That’s not fair!” Kyle calls from the opposite end of the table.

“Shut the fuck up, Kyle.”

As dumb as Art thinks this stupid little was, he absolutely demolishes Kyle. Like it wasn’t even fun, at least, not for Art’s opponent. The blond played like he was at the fucking US Open and didn’t let the guy get more than one point that he only got because Art briefly looked away, eyes following Heaven as she skirts off to use the bathroom. “I think I won that one, Kyle.”

“Jesus, Donaldson, I wasn’t really going to get to go off with your girl. It’s fuckin’ ping pong at Dave & fuckin’ Buster’s.” His teammate rolls his eyes, tossing the paddle on the table before stalking off.

Art feels the heat rise to his face. All night while he’d been enjoying playing pretend he’d somehow avoided Heaven hearing what the guys were saying. He was quite literally ready to tuck his head to hide from the embarrassment when he felt an arm slide and loop with his.

“Oh, what the fuck ever, he’s a sore loser, you were better, that’s why he’s not fucking ranked like you are.”

He wants to ask her how she knows that. Did Tashi tell her or did she look up the men’s teams rankings on her own. But instead he just guides her over to a table to collect his prize.

“Take the last one.”

“Mm no, can’t have it.” Heaven says, taking a sip of her water.

Art’s jaw clenches as he thinks about how the smallest attempt at a bullshit comeback from some dickhead had her questioning herself when Art thinks she’s the most beautiful thing in the world. “He’s an asshole.”

“I agree.”

“And he’s wrong, Hev.”

“Not completely.” she shrugs, swirling her straw in her glass. “Not statistically…for a ballerina.”

He crosses his arms, leaning back against the red booth seat. “Well, maybe male ballerina’s need to work out more then, I can pick you up just fine.”

“Art.”

“I’ll come be Romeo. Put him out of a job and get to kiss you, that sounds like a pretty good deal.”

Heaven laughs, shifting in her seat, lifting one leg into the chair, wrapping her arms around it and resting her cheek on her knee. “Thank you for letting me talk about it.”

“Yeah.” Art smiles, quietly taking a sip of his own water.

“Now say what you wanted to say.”

“I didn’t wanna say anything.”

“Yes you do,” Heaven scoffs, you’ve got that look on your face, you wanna say something just say it, Arthur.”

“I told you I hated that name and you haven’t stopped saying it since.” he snorts.

“It’s your given name.” She exclaims. Her big brown eyes stare up at him from across the table and he can feel his heart racing in his chest. “Okay. Art. You always let me talk to you. Talk to me.”

Art swallows deeply. This is the part where she runs. He gets real and honest about his feelings and she retreats to Tashi’s side or under Patrick’s arm. He knows this isn’t healthy to do to himself. But then he has the shittiest thought that crosses his mind.

This time they’re not here.

He’d won the game today. There was no Patrick to beat in tennis, he wasn’t in a tug-o-war with Tashi. He wasn’t distracted by anything. He should at least try, shouldn’t he?

Like, how long could the situation between the 3 of them last anyway. Here she was again, upset, alone, and where were they. Tashi might have some years on him regarding Heaven but Art knows Patrick. He loves the guy, but he’s not good for them, either of them. This was just some fantasy for him, having two girlfriends, it wasn’t real for him. That’s why he’s here and she’s not. That’s why he was there when Heaven needed him when Patrick was out doing god knows what.

“Why didn’t you call me when you were upset? We text all of the time.”

Heaven breathes out heavily as she nods her head, as if she’d been expecting this conversation. “I called my girlfriend. She was busy.”

“And then?”

“And then I called my boyfriend, Art. Your best friend, Patrick, remember him?” Art scoffs, shaking his head and Heaven sits up fully. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, what?” she persists.

“It’s just, what makes him your boyfriend? Because I just…Patrick Zweig isn’t really the boyfriend type, is all.” He shrugs.

“Maybe he changed for me and Tashi. We tend to have that effect on people.” Heaven jokes.

Art laughs humorously. “I know.”

“Oh.”

“I just want you to be with someone that loves you.” He says in a tired tone. “That’s all I’ve been wanting for you-” He knows he should stop here. That placing seeds of doubt wasn’t the way he should win her. This was fucked up. She’s his friends’ girlfriend. His friend.

“And, you don’t think I have someone like that now?” She asks. That same brow raised as she crossed her arms, staring him down. It's the same bone chilling look she gave Tashi when she’d asked her about her audition dance. He can’t help but wilt a little under the stare, not backing down completely but suddenly questioning his decision to open this line of discussion.

“I…I just want you to be with someone who loves you, Heaven.”

Her face softens and Art can breathe a little easier. Brown eyes wide as she takes him in, shifting in her seat back and forth as if she was really thinking.

“You really mean that, don’t you?”

Art nods solemnly, hesitating slightly before standing, stepping out of the booth and walking over to Heaven’s side, holding his hand out to her. “I know what I’m about to say is so fucked up, and if you dont want to, I’ll listen. We’ll be friends, but…let me show you. I’ve, jesus this is embarrassing, I’ve been pretending you were mine all night. Pretend with me for tonight. Let me show you. Please.”

They're quiet the whole way back to campus. Heaven held Art’s hand, or maybe she let him hold hers…neither of them were quite sure. And they made their way back. And they both waited. They both were on the edge of their seats to see what happens next. They waited for Heaven to open her mouth, to ask him with indignity to direct her to Tashi’s dorm because, surely, the girl was back from the gym now.

They waited for the wave of guilt to hit Art, for him to remember who she actually belongs to, to remember that she’s only his in his fantasies and send her on her way to wait for Patrick to get here tomorrow. But instead, when his phone vibrates in the cupholder of his car with a text from his best friend, he simply flips it over before Heaven can see.

Once they’re safely inside his dorm Heaven is basically shaking next to him and he pauses, brushing his thumb against the smooth skin of her cheek. “Sweetheart, we don’t have to do anything.”

I’ll just die if we don’t, that’s all. He thinks.

Her eyes are shut tightly but she leans her face into his hand. “I’m scared. Meeting you guys was just supposed to be fun. This feels…” serious. “I’m…I’ve never felt like this for anyone other than her. So I was trying to avoid you.” she whispers, finally opening her eyes to look at him.

His heart almost hurts because he’s causing her stress. Almost. But this was the first time that she’s been clear that she’s feeling what he feels, and he physically cannot stand not kissing her. “I’m sorry.” He breathes, leaning down, brushing her lips with his own. “M’sorry.”

The gap finally closes between the two of them and Art feels like he’s really breathing for the first time. Like, up until this point he’d been holding his breath his whole life, like he had a taste of real air when they’d kissed in that theater and now he was breathing. The only air worth breathing is Heaven’s.

Heaven’s head swims as Art lifts her up, laying her down onto his small bed, placing her gently as if she was fine china. It feels unfair. She didn’t know that something could feel this good. Being with Tashi and Patrick, it’s the first time she’s really felt something. Tashi was the first person Heaven ever loved. But it was so alarming how quickly Art was making all of that feel less all consuming. All she could think about was him. The only time her mine was this clear, this focused, was…when she danced.

Art places kisses along Heaven’s cheek, jaw and neck before making his way to her ear, groaning when he feels her hand in his hair. “Heaven, baby, let me touch you, please.”

He pulls back to look at her to wait. He needed confirmation. He needed to know she was okay with it. That it would make her happy. “Okay.” she looks up at him from his pillow with a soft look, lifting her hand to his cheek and smiles gently as he kisses the palm of her hand.

“Yeah?” He asks desperately as he kisses his way up her arm.

Heaven brings Art’s hand to her lips, mirroring his action and kissing his palm before nodding.

That’s all he needs.

He has to focus hard as he breathes in her sweet, flowery scent as he drags his lips along her torso before he reaches the edge of where her t-shirt meets her pants, nudging the fabric up with his nose to expose the skin of her stomach and kissing his way back down. He feels himself hardening in his own pants and wills himself to calm down so he doesn’t cum before he even gets to really touch her. He reaches his hand down, undoing her buttons on her pants and looks up to the ceiling briefly as he hears her kicking the fabric down her legs, counting backward from 20.

“Kiss me again?” she asks sweetly.

The question barely leaves her lips before he’s racing up to meld their lips back together, humming in relief when he gets to breathe from her again. When he finally lets her get some real air, she takes his dominant hand this time holding it in both of hers. “I love your hands, Art. They’re strong,” she kisses one finger, “and talented,” she kisses the next, “and part of you. Let you play some really good fucking tennis.”

Art’s laugh turns into a moan when she places the two fingers into her warm mouth, staring up at him through her lashes. “Oh fuck, Heaven.”

She pops his fingers out of his mouth and she wraps her arm around his neck to hold his face close as Art slides hand down her body, holding the wet fingers away as he pauses briefly to squeeze her breast, drinking in the sound she makes. He would say he wants that noise as his ringtone, but then other people would hear it. Heaven. That’s what she is. His own personal heaven.

As he pushes his fingers into her his own grunt frustrates him as he tries to memorize the gasp that falls from her plump lips and chases it with his own. He pushes his fingers in and out of her again and again to hear her voice pitch as she chants his name and gasps obscenities. His own moans and whines fall from his lips and his ears and cheeks turn red at how loud he is.

His suitemates have to be used to the sound of him cumming with her name on his lips by now, especially considering his one attempt at not being in love with his best friend’s girlfriend that led him to stumble home from a bar just off campus with a sorority girl who promptly slapped the shit out of him and stormed out of the suite screeching when she’d given him head and he cried Heaven’s name when he came. To be fair, he’d gotten her off first…and apologized immensely.

But this? They weren’t gonna wanna room with him next semester. Fuck them.

He shivers as he feels her tugging his shirt over his head before pulling him back down to her, kissing him deeply again. “I’m gonna cum.” she whimpers, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Wait, wait, wait, please let me look at you.” Art pleads. Heaven’s head falls back against the pillow as her back arches slightly off of the mattress as she reaches her peak and Art nearly loses it from the sight. Not yet.

“Shit.” Heaven breathes kissing his cheek and neck, running her hands through his blond hair. “Let…let me-”

“One more.” Art blurts, sitting up and looking down at her, smoothing his hand along her body in awe. “Let me have one more, please. Let me taste you, baby. You’re so pretty, Hev. You’re,” he kisses her lower stomach, blue-brown eyes on her as he bites her panties, pulling them down with his teeth. “You’re a goddess. I want…I love you.”

“Art-” she gasps, pushing up onto her elbows to look down at him between her legs.

“One more, Heaven, please.” He pleads one more time, stopping just short of his destination to give her time. If…if she didn’t want it he wouldn’t do it. But he’d die. He would, he’d fucking die.

But all she does is bite the collar of her shirt. And Art could fucking cry at how good she tastes. He kisses her center deeply, licking his way up her slit, sucking on her clit, holding her legs open as she squirms above him. Murmuring against her through his own moans. “I know, baby, I know.” He reaches his hand up tugging the fabric of the shirt to pull it from her mouth to stop her from muffling her cries. “Heaven, beautiful, talk to me, honey, please.”

“I-I’m, it feels so good.”

“Yeah? I wanna make you feel so good.” he whines against her thigh.

“Fuck, Art-” she turns her head to muffle into the pillow, squeaking when he gently tugs her down the bed away from it.

“Please don’t fight it. Cum for me baby, please. One more, Heaven.”

“Fuck.” She gasps.

This time when she cums Art can’t help it. Between her sounds filling his ears, her scent in his nose and her taste on his tongue, he was moaning out her name and cumming in his pants before he could stop it. He breathes heavily and sits on the bed because he’s genuinely worried he’s gonna pass out, the black spots in his vision apparently an after effect of coming harder than he’d ever had. “Fuck, Heaven. Heaven?” He breathes, confused when he can finally see again and the girl is no longer in his bed and his room door is open.

She comes padding back through his door and Art thinks if he wasn’t empty, he could cum again to the sight of her stumbling back on wobbly legs, wearing his shirt, holding a washcloth. “Least I could do since you tried to kill me by making me nut.” She sits next to him and he intakes a breath as she unbuttons his pants, coaxing him out of them and his boxers and taking the warm cloth and cleaning his dick.

“Fuck, baby-” he whines, burying his face in her hair. “Okay-”

“You know you sound like you’re having sex when you play tennis? Or you’re playing tennis when you have sex. Since you played tennis first.” She smiles, smoothing his messy blond hair.

“Fuck tennis, I wanna do that.” He jokes, lifting his head and reaching for a clean pair of boxers from his drawer before climbing into his bed and holding his arms out for her to climb into.

“As a pro? That’s prostitution, handsome.” she smiles, laying herself between his arms and entangling their legs.

“M’not chargin’ you.” he mumbles sleepily, kissing her head.

“Shut up, go to sleep.”

#oc #love #art donaldson #art donaldson challengers #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x tashi duncan #art donaldson x oc #art donaldson x patrick zweig #patrick zweig x oc #patrick zweig x tashi duncan #patrick zweig #tashi duncan x oc #tashi duncan x reader #earn it #challengers spoilers #challengers movie #challengers 2024

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lilithdeparis · 3 days

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A little help.

I swear to you guys

I've been having meaningless thoughts lately

l have to write it down, even tho l requsted it to someone.

If you don't like anything from here or don't feel comfortable reading about it, please don't read.

Forewarning: It will definitely be smut, the reader is a single mom, breastfeeding, etc.

Summry: The reader is a single mother who is having trouble breastfeeding her baby, but Simon wants to make it easy for her and helps her with it.

After six years in the army, you suddenly had to take a break, and that break was probably because you were pregnant out of nowhere.

Well of course you knew exactly who the father of the child was, but after talking with him about the pregnancy, you once again realized that sleeping with him that night was the biggest mistake of your life.

It was not easy for you to leave the army, probably because you had many friends there, and not only that, but you also loved your job very much.

You already talked about the problem with your Captain, you wanted to tell others the reason why you had to leave, but somehow you were embarrassed ? It's as if you imagined yourself as that stupid girl you always said you won't be,

"How can I have fun with a man for one night and get pregnant."

You used to say always and the love of a idle man really dragged your life to end, as if, as they say, God was laughing at you.

You left Task Force 141 and left all your friends behind, and the most painful thing was to see those disappointed eyes through the skull masked merciless Lieutenant, who once valued you so much, but now thought you betrayed him.

The pregnancy was the most difficult for you, you had no one by your side, no one at all, went to the doctor alone, took care of yourself alone, you didn't have a man who would run to the end of the world for you in the middle of the night to find strawberries in the middle of winter.

But you were a strong woman, you survived the worst, and you knew that the day you found out the gender of your baby, you would go through anything for your little girl.

And that's what happened, you walked to the hospital alone because you spilled too much water and left the hospital in a five days with a small, healthy and beautiful girl in your arms.

When you hold little Vivienne in your arms first, you felt as if all the problems around you were gone, after that day everything seemed to be going better and better, you had enough money because of your old job, you had a house, and now you had a beautiful daughter.

You continued living with your daughter, waking up with her in the morning, feeding her, taking care of her, enjoying her and you didn't want anything else until one New Year's day, you heard a knock on the door of your house.

Your six-month-old girl, who was still wrapped in cute deer pajamas, you immediately took her in your arms because when you left her at such a time, she cried, that's why you immediately went to the door with your girl in your hands.

As you open the door, met those familiar cold eyes and skull mask.

The man fastly turned his blue eyes to you and then looked at the little girl, he looked a little surprised. "Did you start working as a nanny ?"

"What ?! Of course not, this is my daughter."

It was the only thing that came out of your mouth in protest and that surprised Simon even more.

"And when did you have time to have a baby ?"

Simon asked directly and didn't even think before you closed the door, he put his foot between the door and opened it strongly, he was strong then and still is.

"Listen, I don't have time for you, I have to feed Vivi."

You said and the man didn't even listen, he entered the house with his muddy boots and closed the door behind him.

In ten minutes, both of you were in the living room, you were still holding Vivienne, Simon sitting on the couch, was looking at you still, he didn't seem to know what to do, should he be angry with you ? Should he be happy or should he just reached for your waist and kissed you hard because of longing ?

"Tell me why you hid from me ? you know that I would understand you, for you I would be the Simon that I was not with anyone else."

The man looked at you and said, then looked at the little girl, and as if there was sadness somewhere in his words, which was the most unusual for a lieutenant you knew.

As if you didn't need much to open up, just a little push which Simon happend to do, you immediately sat next to Simon with the baby in your arms and told him everything that happened to you, everything what you went through without him.

"I didn't want to leave you, but I had no choice, I was ashamed to tell you about my pregnancy."

Those were your last words, and after that tears started to fall from your eyes, you couldn't hold them back.

The man laughed suddenly, his big scarred hands immediately went to your face and the man wiped the tears from your eyes.

"Damn, what a fool you are."

He said and gently grabbed your chin, then lifted your head up and you couldn't see through his mask but you were sure he was smiling.

Before it could turn into something more romantic, Vivienne suddenly burst into tears and that because she was hungry.

You immediately started to calm her down, while Simon's big hands now went towards your angel's small hands.

"It's amazing how small and innocent ."

The man muttered to himself, you hear it too, perhaps life was amazing, the hands of an man with lots of human blood on it and the hands of a little angel who has never felt anything other than her mother's breast.

"Listen, can l hold her in my hands ?" Simon seemed to have the courage and asked and you didn't even need a few minutes to think because Simon was the only guy you trusted with your little girl.

The man took the little child in his hands, the hands with which he mercilessly suffocated and chocked men, so gently, he was so careful that even you were surprised and smiled.

In a few seconds, Vivienne started to look at Simon's mask and even touched it with her little hands, In one part, I think she even wanted to drool over the mask, which made the man laugh.

"Soo is this your little troublemaker ?"

Simon said and looked at the little girl who was smiling, maybe if there was someone else in her place, she would have broken her hand for holding on to his mask, but Vivienne, like you, already had the right.

"I think I better feed her or she might really drool over your mask."

You smiled and said, looking back at Simon, who nodded and gently hand the baby to you.

You watched him for the next minute, hoping he would figure out what to do, but then, when he didn't understand anything, you tell him.

"I have to breastfeed her Simon, could you... ?"

Simon looked at you and then when he understood, he shook his head, realized that it wouldn't be entirely comfortable for you to be watched by him, so he turned away.

When you fed Vivienne, the girl's stomach was so full that she fell asleep in seconds and you immediately put her to bed.

Although you had problems because you always had more milk left, full breast.

When you put the little one to bed, you tiredly went out to the living room where Simon was still sitting on the couch waiting for you and sat next to him.

"Vivi will probably be asleep for a long time."

You sighed and continued talking, but you didn't realize that Simon was busy with something else, he was probably already dying to see your big tits naked, In his hands or his cock right between them.

"Simon, are you listening?"

You spoke and the man immediately looked down at your chest, seeing the leaked milk coming from your breasts on your T-shirt.

"Listen, I think you have a problem with your chest right there."

Simon said it as sarcastic as he used to be with you most of the time, while you immediately looked down at your chest.

"Damn it's leaking, I need a drainer."

You spoke and before you got up, the man immediately put his hand on your waist, gently pushed you back on your sit.

"Listen, I can help you."

The man said in all seriousness and you raised an eyebrow, immediately asking. "And How ?"

The man immediately put his arm around your waist and placed you on his laps, so that he was now looking directly at your breast.

"Shhh, don't ask questions, I know you want my help."

The man spoke and then lifted his mask just up his nose, slowly moved his hand under your T-shirt to your stomach, and soon your T-shirt was nowhere to be seen, so that now you were in a white bra only.

"Damn it, how I missed them."

The man spoke and placed his lips on your stomach and kissed it gently, then slowly moved up.

"Hmmm Simon a bit fast."

Upon hearing your complaint, the man immediately take off your bra and almost started drooling when he saw your breasts so full and round because of milk.

"What a good girl you are, damn it."

The man cupped both of your breasts with his big hands and then bent his head so that he kissed one and then the other.

Before you could say anything, the man pressed his lips to your breast at full speed and then sucked hard with his tongue around nipple, squeezing it with all his might, more milk started to leak.

The man this time took both your breasts firmly in his hands and squeezed one harder to make the milk come out, when he pulled his head out, he looked at you, who had both hands covering your mouth.

"Honey, this is the best milk I've ever tasted."

You can ask me anything you want guys, l will try to write it, because l have no brain to think about it much, thank you for reading it ☆

#cod fanfic #cod modern warfare #cod ghost #cod x reader #ghost smut #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon riley x reader #Spotify

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 4 hours

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How did it end?

Summary: A flashback to the night that changed your lives forever.

Pairing: past Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.4k

Rating: T

Warnings: angst (so much angst), flashbacks, some really hurtful words, cursing, crying, pregnancy tests, Joel being a dick, Calvin being the best supportive brother

A/N: somehow I feel in my mind like this should have been worse, but I am sure you all do not feel like that at all so I'm sorry lol

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part three of invisible string

Even before the outbreak you dealt with your anxiety or with big life decisions the same way.

You were stress cleaning.

After walking out from Joel you made your way into the town centre, picking up your kids and then got back home where your brother Calvin was already trying to cook something but you mutually made the decision that you were gonna cook while he bathed the kids.

You both did not want him to burn the house down.

He wanted to ask you how it went, having run into Maria on his way home from the Patrol meeting, who had told her that you had been at the clinic to see Joel.

But this wasn’t the time or the place.

It ended up being a nice evening all things considered.

You had dinner, played some boardgames, read a good night stories to your kids and watched them sleep in their little beds until the nervous energy in your body left you walking back downstairs.

Once the house got quiet after the kids and you brother were asleep (he had an early morning with his first big day on Patrol the next day) you were alone with your thoughts.

And your thoughts were loud, and demanded to be heard.

So you went into the kitchen, took a look at all the cleaning supplies that were still stocked under the kitchen sink and got to work.

You started with the top of the kitchen cabinets, standing on the counter as you scrubbed what felt like centuries of dust off of them until you were satisfied and moved to inside the cabinets.

What a picture it would be if one of your new neighbours caught the crazy lady next door deep cleaning the kitchen at 2 am during the literal apocalypse.

Cleaning usually had the power to make the thoughts inside your head shut up.

But as you emptied the cabinets so you could clean them inside, your mind drifted to the last time you had tried to deal with whatever was going on in your life by extensively deep cleaning every surface around you.

The Outbreak might have been an excuse for many people to let things like cleaning the place where they lived become unimportant.

Which deep down it was of course.

Why have a clean kitchen when just down the street, behind the fences and walls the so called new government had pulled up, there were people and what once were people dying or fighting (or eating) each other?

But you always lived by the mindset of clean home, clean mind.

And what you desperately needed right now was a clean mind.

Two ten year old positive pregnancy tests you took this morning after feeling off for the last couple of weeks and missing you period were enough reason to freak out.

But you couldn’t freak out.

Joel would do that for you, you were sure.

That was, if he ever decided to come home to you again after being on a run with Tess for the last four days.

He hadn’t even told you or kissed you goodbye this time.

You had woken up to a note on the kitchen table telling you that he’d be gone on a run with Tess and he didn’t know how long.

Something about your husband had changed in the last few months.

It changed ever since Tommy left and Tess was his only influence outside of you. Not that you had much influence on anything he did nowadays.

It wasn’t like he was the most attentive men to begin with.

But you fell for him.

You fell for the complicated, traumatised and closed off man who to this day was the most handsome man you had ever met.

And deep down you knew he fell for you, mumbling his confessions of love into your skin when he thought you were asleep.

It was the way he looked at you.

The way he brought home a new book to read whenever he went out of the QZ.

The way he made you forget about the fucked up word outside of the walls you made your home whenever he gave you his full attention.

He wouldn’t have put a ring on your finger years earlier as you laid in his arms, asking you to be his until the day you both died, if he did not love you, would he?

You loved him, you loved him even when he seemed to make it his personal goal to make you hate him.

He used to be home every night in the beginning.

He used to love to spend time with you and you with him. Staying up just talking for hours if he wasn’t making love to you.

Because even when he was fucking you, it felt different. More… intense. More passionate.

He used to smile at you.

By now you couldn’t remember the last time he smiled at you now.

And by the time you had practically polished the whole shitty apartment you and Joel lived in it was dark outside and he still wasn’t home.

In hopes he would be home and it would lift his mood you had made dinner that now sat cold on the stove.

It was after 11pm and you were tired, having been in the bathroom brushing your teeth when you heard the door unlock and open.

A nervous flutter in your stomach made the dinner you had earlier almost come up but you took a deep breath, looking at yourself in the small mirror over the sink.

You were wearing one of Joel’s old worn flannels, his familiar scent in your nose.

What was the worst that could happen?

It was not like you could just turn back time?

You were pregnant and he just would have to deal with it.

Right?

You would never forget the way his eyes hardened once you said the words

„I am pregnant.“

He had been in a relatively good mood when you joined him in the small kitchen, having already taken his shoes and coat off, his hair damp from the rain outside.

It made you reconsider telling him for a tiny moment, wanting to just enjoy this with him. But maybe he would not react like you thought he would? Maybe he would be happy?

You wanted to ask a million question about how it went but you were too nervous, having instead kissed his cheek with a whispered „I miss you“ and then offered to warm up some food for him.

He had put his hand on your waist, his fingers brushing over your stomach as he went into the bathroom, his lips against your temple telling you that he would just take a quick shower.

It was after he ate, the table cleaned that you told him.

Sitting across from him at the tiny shitty table you had, your hands flat on the surface, the silence after you told him the news sickening.

His whole face had changed, expression hard, by the time he opened his mouth to speak.

„Is it mine?“ He asked and you just blinked at him, speechless, your head falling back as if he had slapped you, before you answered.

„What do you mean? Who else would it be? We’re married,“ you said and he scoffed.

„Doesn’t mean you don’t open your legs for anyone else while I’m gone,“ he sneered and you flinched at the accusation and the tone he used.

Sucking your bottom lip in you looked at your hands, still on the table, nodding your head slowly.

„Good to know what you think of me after all these years,“ you whispered, still trying to process his words.

„What did you think would happen? That I’ll be happy? Newsflash darlin’, this isn’t one of your dumb romance novels you keep reading,“ he said, before he brought his fist down on the table, making you jump. He got up from where he was sitting, walking over to the cabinet that held all the liquor he scavenged, opening the one bottle of original Jack Daniel’s and taking a long sip.

„You gonna get rid of it,“ he said and you looked at him.

„Excuse me?“ You asked.

„Don’t want no kids of mine in this fucked up world. And especially not with you,“ he said and you felt slapped again. One blow after the next coming from him. You crossed your arms in front of your stomach protectively.

You had imagined his reaction would be bad, but this wasn’t bad. This was destroying you.

„So that’s it, you don’t want a kid, and I have to just comply?“

„That’s exactly how it is, sweetheart,“ he grinned darkly at you, shaking his head and leaning against the wall and you desperately tried to find the tiniest part of the person you had fallen in love with as you looked at him.

But there was nothing left.

Maybe you just had been too blind to see it until now.

„I thought you loved me,“ you whispered, tears in your eyes.

„How can someone love you? You thought because I put a ring on your finger everything would be okay? We’d be a happy little family and live in this shitty apartment in this shitty QZ while the world around us is fucking dying? How did you think this would go?“ He asked.

„You made it sound like I planned this. Do you think I like this? Do you think I like being pregnant by a man who even though treated me like the fucking dirt beneath his shoes for the last months, was still the man I thought I would spend the rest of my life with?“

„Then get rid of it and we can get back to it,“ he said and you scoffed.

„You really think things are gonna get back to how they were after you said all that?“ You asked.

He shrugged.

„Where would you go? You have no family. No friends. All you have is me,“ he said.

„And you’re so different? Who do you have? Tommy left because…“

„Do not talk about my brother,“ he threatened and glared at you.

You shook your head, taking a deep breath.

He was drunk.

This was not going anywhere.

This would never go anywhere.

„Things are not going to go back. I can find someone better than you on every corner,“ he said and you could not stop the sob that shook your body and you were pretty sure you could hear your heart breaking.

„I don’t love you. I never did,“ he said and the tears you had tried to hold in finally fell.

„Get rid of this, before I take care of it,“ he said, and a chill ran down your spine at his tone.

„And then get the fuck out of my life.“

You were in the last touches of finishing cleaning the kitchen when you heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

You hadn’t even noticed the tears until Calvin pulled against his chest, his hand running soothingly up and down your back.

„You wanna talk about it?“ He asked and you shook your head.

„Not yet. Not ever if I’m honest,“ you mumbled and he chuckled.

„Need to talk to him though,“ you said and leaned back, turning around to turn on the stove to heat up some water and make some tea for the both of you. Looking at the clock hanging on the wall you noticed that it was just before 5 am.

„Don’t need to do anything,“ he said and opened the fridge, getting the lunch he had prepared the day before for his day out and grabbing some stuff to make himself a sandwich.

„I can’t ignore him forever. As much as I would like to. He’s…. He’s here and he won’t go anywhere. Neither will we. So we have to…. Co-exist somehow.“

You both get to your tasks before you both sat down at the table, you with two mugs of tea, one for him, him with two sandwiches, one which he pushed towards you.

„You still love him,“ your brother said after a while and you sighed, looking up at him.

„Yeah. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t think I’l ever be able to forgive him for everything that happened,“ you smiled sadly.

„Well,“ your brother said before he got up and put his plate in the sink.

„Then you should talk to him and tell him that so you can both move on with your lives.“

You followed him towards the front of the house where he put his shoes on and checked if he had everything in his little backpack for this first patrol.

„What if he wants to be in their lives?“ You asked, nodding upstairs to where both your children were still sleeping.

„Do you think he wants to? He made himself pretty clear from what you’ve told me,“ Calvin said.

„I don’t know. It’s been a long time and he seemed…. He seemed really sorry? I just….“ You took a deep breath, shaking your head.

„Nope. I am not gonna spend any more time thinking about Joel Miller. I’m gonna go upstairs and take a two hour nap and then I’m gonna go and explore our new home while my children are learning stuff in an actual school,“ you said.

„There you go!“ Calvin grinned.

„Be safe today!“ You said, grinning back and hugged him quickly.

„You too,“ he smiled, before he opened the door, your face falling as you saw Joel stand on the porch, his hand held up in a fist as if he was about to knock.

„I’m here to pick you up for patrol? Tommy’s gotta stay home today,“ Joel said as he looked between you and your brother.

„Well that is gonna be fun,“ Calvin said, winking at you, before he stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him, giving Joel no chance to try to say anything more if he wanted to.

You watched them through the window next to the door as they walked down the porch and then down the street until they were out of sight.

Letting your shoulders fall while you exhaled with a sigh you shook your head before you made your way upstairs.

This was gonna be a long day.

#my fic #Joel Miller x fem. reader #Joel Miller #Pedro Pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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kakiastro · 2 days

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The Astrology of the age 27

Butterflies represent growth and change

This is one of the most infamous ages due to the reputation of the “27 club.” If you don’t know who the 27 club is, it’s basically a group of famous celebs who passed from unfortunate ways at the age of 27.

There’s been a lot of conspiracy theories over the years about this phenomenon but it’s really a simple answer and it’s in the stars!

Astrology + Numerology

So when you turn 27, you enter a 4h profection year. Profectiòn years is a branch of astrology that focuses on the house that rules that year for you that year based on your age.

1 years old =1h

2 years old= 2h

3 years old = 3h

4 years old = 4h

So on and so forth..

This process goes up until your 12 years old= 12h profection year then the process starts over again. This is a 12 year cycle.

This is a good way to track certain patterns during your life.

So back to the 4h profection year…

The 4h in astrology represent your deepest psych, it’s who we are when we’re alone with our thoughts. Only a handful of people if any at all see this side of you. 4h is connected to your soul.

The 4h rules over our home life, family, ancestral roots, our emotional state of being.

The 4h is ruled by the moon, so your moon for that year is also being activated. This includes aspects to your moon and IC(4h)

During this year, you will feel

-emotionally overwhelmed with your deepest thoughts and emotions. If you’re the type to bottle up or hide your emotions, this year will challenge you on that. What are you feeling? Why are you feeling this way? What caused it? It can be a lot so take it easy on yourself.

-dynamics with your family may shift during this time, it doesn’t have to be a bad shift but it can uncomfortable. You may be thinking about your role in your family, family trauma, what type of family do you want to have.

-establishing a safe and secure home for yourself emotionally. Is this really a place I want to lay my head at night?

Saturn pre-return. Many people think your return starts at 29 but the energy of starts when you’re 27 years old. I call it the “pre-shadow period” it’s when you start to feel the “shift” happen in your life. Late 20s, you start to ask yourself, am I headed in the right direction? You may feel like you’re behind in life. You may start to have more responsibilities or you’re feeling like you need to be more responsible. Your worldview on people and those around you start to change, you start to view your own self differently.

So on top of your 4h/moon energy, you start to feel the beginning of your Saturn return energy.

Reversal Nodal Return. So this is when the current North Node transit is aspecting your natal South Node. The South Node transit is aspecting your North Node.

So, the SN represents our early life and the things that made us who we are essentially. It’s also connected the things you’ve learned in your past lives. So with the NN transit aspecting your Sn, a lot of past behaviors from this life which stems from past ones will resurface. It’s not all bad! During this time, you may re-explore your talents and gifts! It’s like the scene from lion king “remember who you are” 😅

Lunar progressed return. This is when your progressed moon returns back to your natal moon sign. You’re remembering who you wanted to be before the world told you something different.

Numerology.

So first 27 is a Gemini number. It’s the highest one. Your brain and your thought process start to really mature. You’ll be more open to communicating your thoughts. You’ll see things differently.

2 + 7 = 9. 9 is the number of completed cycles and endings. 9 is the humanitarian number as well. Too me, this is the end of one of your many adult cycles and the start of a new one. You’re entering a new phase in your life 9 is a sag degree, your worldview and you’ll be thinking about your philosophical ideas and beliefs. What do you believe? What shaped those beliefs? What role do I play in society and who else have these beliefs? Finding like-minded people who share those beliefs. It can be overwhelming because you can become more self aware on what happening around you and around the world.

I know this was a long post but I felt called to do it today! I’m opened for reading as well !

#astrology #astrology community #knowledge #astro observations #advanced astrology #birth chart #kakiastro #tropical astrology #age astrology by kakiastro

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sublimeinal-messages · 15 hours

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youtube

OKAY OKAY SO THE TRAILER’s DROPPED AND WHILE IM SO BEYOND PSYCHED TO SEE EVERYONE I HAVE SOME OBSERVATIONS. (With pictures). Apologies for the long post lol

First off:

Powers confirmed coming back for everyone!

Five is teleporting, Viktor’s powered up, Ben’s got the horror, Luther has his muscles again

Speaking of Luther, he seems to be all over the place. In some shots he has his muscles, in some he doesn’t, in one shot he’s donning spacegear, another he’s in a ballpit, and they even make him sit in the back of the van for old time’s sake

No Sloane tho?? No sparrows at all as far as I can tell :| idk how to feel about that

Another little detail I noticed was when they all pile in the van together, Lila calls shotgun and is promptly shoved aside by Five out of sheer pettiness. And then she has to sit in the middle

They seem to have a bonding moment in the subway with Lila sobbing as Five holds onto her, which I’m very curious about (and scared)

Diego’s shown at a birthday party taking care of a little girl!! With braids! Possibly their daughter? Talk of a rescue mission makes me think their daughter might be kidnapped

Allison shown with a kid also has me thinking Claire returns which makes me so happy

Allison also doesn’t seem to be shot in a villainous or shunned light, so it looks like this season isn’t intent on bashing her (yet. As far as I can see, which honestly thank goodness…)

The dark circles under Ben’s eyes worry me, almost as much as the shot of him in prison(?) and him seemingly being out of sync with the others. Is this Sparrow Ben perhaps? Does it have anything to do with the possibility of there being another Ben? (Maybe he’s accused of identity theft?)

There’s also Another Tentacle in the promo image shared yesterday which I noticed. Maybe a second horror?

I thought maybe it had something to do with Jennifer since there’s been an actor hired for a character with that name, but now I wonder with the two Bens situation…

Reginald might have his Umbrella academy in the woods again? aligning with the comics. Unless this is someone else’s house. But the windows and white brick match.

Really curious how the academy has been rebranded in this universe to be a house for boys. Six, specifically. Seeing as how Allison is the only umbrella-born girl, it’s interesting to see how this universe has shifted to accommodate them all

Viktor might be a bartender?? The area looked familiar but it could just be my eyes. But apart from his Direct Interview with Reginald, (oooh scary) he seems to get in a physical fight with someone. Which is a new approach for him as a characater

Forgive my shitty captures but if it’s not Luther, diego, klaus or five I’m guessing it must be Ben?? But it’s hard to say, but he sure is going at it tho

Who are the square dancers??? My heart wants it to be jayme and Alphonso but the people here look older to me, so it could be Nick Offerman and Megan Mullalley.

Actually upon inspection the fuzzy square dancer has a matching beard pattern to Nick offerman Exactly. So that’s absolutely him.

Klaus really seems to be struggling again, and has those plastic gloves in almost every shot I see. Him dressing dark and drab also says something about his state of mind as well as the panic attack he seems to have :( but at least they’re all back together 🥲

Looks like they also seem to celebrate Christmas together? And a birthday. Honestly I’m just so happy to see them together for events like this I love these dysfunctional dorks so much

There’s so many more things I’m sure I missed and I’ll be rewatching this a few more times until the season drops (three months!!) but in the wise words of Diego: Let’s Fucking GOOOOOOOO I’m so excited for this. HELL YEAH, THE UMBRELLAS BACK TOGETHER AGAIN BAYBEEE

#tua #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #tua s4 #tua s4 spoilers #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #lila pitts #ok no more tagging I’m just #psyched #lol #WERE SO BACK #long post

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black-arcana · 3 days

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LZZY HALE: New HALESTORM Music 'Will Be Worth The Wait'

During an appearance on the May 23 episode of SiriusXM's "Trunk Nation With Eddie Trunk", HALESTORM frontwoman Lzzy Hale spoke about the progress of the writing and recording sessions for the band's follow-up to 2022's "Back From The Dead" album. She said (as transcribed by BLABBERMOUTH.NET): It's a strange year because instead of us taking three months off to do a record, or 'hey, now we're only focusing on touring' or 'we're only focusing on other avenues,' we're kind of doing everything all at once. So we've had a couple just kind of three-week sessions in the studio, and we're finishing up new music, which has been so exciting. We've been recording with [producer] Dave Cobb, of all people, and he's just amazing and, I think, exactly what the doctor ordered for where we're at in our life. And so we're really excited about new music. But then we're touring all over the States this year because we spent so much time in Europe last year. So, yeah, we kick it off with I PREVAIL in July. And then in the fall, we're going out with EVANESCENCE to Canada, for all the people up there. It's how we live. This is life. We just keep the train rolling down the hill. So it's all very exciting. And I can't wait for you to hear the music, and I can't wait to see everybody this summer at all the festivals. And yeah, we just have a a great year coming up."

Asked how fan along she and the rest of HALESTORM are on the new music, Lzzy said: "This has been an amazing experience because Dave Cobb, he's like half wise old oak and then half A.D.D. five-year-old in the sandbox, which works very well with our little camp in HALESTORM, because we're all perpetually 15 years old anyway. And so it's been a beautiful process.

"We've been doing all the things," she explained. "So I've been writing during our off time, but then also we're writing and recording in the studio, but kind of all at once. So as it's being created, we're getting the final takes. So, half of the record is done, and then there are some things that we have one more session to kind of go in, after our next tour, to kind of just kind of finish everything up, put the icing on the cake, if you will, and make sure we have everything there and then it should be kind of sewn up. But it's been really beautiful because we've been recording, actually, out in Savannah, Georgia. Dave Cobb has a house [there]. And if you can imagine, it's just the four of us staying in one house. No distractions, 'cause it's Savannah, Georgia — they love their tea and they love their food and that's about it. And unsupervised, so there's no managers, there's no crew, no tour and nothing going on. So, in a lot of ways, this record feels like our beginning, when we were all just kind of living with each other in the same apartment and every day is something new, everything is ready to record, ready to go. So whatever you do, as long as you're chasing what gets you excited, it's going to get down on tape. So, it's just been a great experience. And I'm looking forward to the finished product and being able to tease everybody with dates as to when we're gonna unleash it."

Speaking about Cobb's somewhat unorthodox recording approach, Lzzy said: "There've been a couple of songs where we'll have forgotten to put on the click track as a guide, and then that ends up being the take because we were all playing with each other and there was a different energy. Or [Dave] really understands the line between when you're excited about something and it's happening, and then that post, after that line when you're trying too hard to rock, or you're trying too hard to be a singer, or you've memorized it too many times. There's a fine line with performance and getting magic on tape, whereas a lot of people are… I mean, we all do it, but you shoot for perfection. But somewhere, if you're shooting too hard for that perfection, the human element gets lost. And then the magic is lost, or it just sounds like you're reading it, or it sounds like you've played it a million times and you're tired, or you're thinking about something else. So, for a band like us, it's really worked. And it was actually nerve-racking in the beginning because we went in, and you always have your bank of songs you've written or riffs for days and, like, 'Okay, what do we start with? And Dave was very adamant about not having a plan, which was nerve-racking. I'm, like, 'Wait. No, we have to have a plan or it's just gonna be chaos. What's happening? I don't know how to work like this.' And then, after a couple of days, I'm, like, this is actually really nice because every day we just get in the sandbox and we play, and, 'Oh, I brought a LEGO set, you brought a rocket. Let's see what we can do with this.' And so it's been really beautiful to see these things develop and almost the music telling you what to do, not the other way around. I'm so used to going into a studio where it's, 'Okay, we have our 15 songs that we know we want on the record, and we're just gonna do a song a day and get them all done and recorded.' This is completely different because he doesn't want to lose — again — that intangible magic that comes with the excitement of when things are new and you're creating. You don't have time to think; you've just gotta get it done. And so it's been beautiful to kind of. see all of that come together."

Asked if she thinks HALESTORM will release some new music this year or fans will have to wait until 2025 to get something fresh from the band, Lzzy said: "You know what? I've learned this — I can make all the promises in the world. I would love to do that. I'm hoping that we will at least have something to show before the end of the year, but I know how this goes — I end up promising dates, and then something happens and some recall from mastering or something doesn't work out with numbers or with whatever it is. So I'm not making promises, but I will tell you it'll be worth the wait."

HALESTORM is working with Cobb after making three records with Nick Raskulinecz.

Cobb has shared in nine Grammy wins, including four for "Best Americana Album" and three for "Best Country Album". He's also been named "Producer Of The Year" by the Country Music Awards, the Americana Music Association (twice) and the Music Row Awards, and has been a Grammy nominee in the category.

Lzzy and her brother Arejay (drums) formed HALESTORM in 1998 while in middle school. Guitarist Joe Hottinger joined the group in 2003, followed by bassist Josh Smith in 2004.

In May 2023, HALESTORM teamed up with country singer Ashley McBryde for a reimagined version of the band's song "Terrible Things", which was originally featured on HALESTORM's latest album, the aforementioned "Back From The Dead".

#lzzy hale #halestorm

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cbk1000 · 2 days

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So, I have another crazy story about the clinic where I used to work; this time as a patient instead of an employee. Under a cut because it's very long.

So back when I first got really sick, I was in the hospital a few times primarily for really high heart rate. I work out a lot and my normal resting heart rate is in the 60s; back in February I suddenly started getting palpitations, and my heart rate was going up to like 140 bpm just standing at my bathroom sink washing my face. I wore a seven day monitor at one point and my highest recorded heart rate on that was 157 bpm--just shuffling like a zombie around the house. I was also super weak and just felt overall like death.

Hospital runs a bunch of labs and imaging tests and can't find anything that would explain it. The last doc I saw said there was a bright spot on my echocardiogram monitor that could just be flashback from the monitor, but taken with some of my symptoms, he felt OK with a presumptive diagnosis of pericarditis (inflammation of the sac around your heart), especially as the treatment is just high dose ibuprofen for a week, nothing invasive or drastic. I need to follow up with a cardiologist, but I don't have a primary care physician who can refer me to the heart clinic. I had just turned in new patient paperwork at a local clinic so I contacted them to see if I could get in, but they said it would likely be a month before I could be scheduled with anyone.

In the meantime, the ibuprofen isn't working and my condition is getting worse. I have my next period, and after a couple of heavy days, I get even weaker, my heart rate goes even higher, and I get really dizzy all the time. I also am now short of breath just rolling over in bed. I legit feel like I'm dying. Because my symptoms get worse after blood loss, it suddenly pops into my head that about 17 years ago after a blood donation I got really sick, and all my symptoms that I can remember having at the time are the same, especially the cardiac issues. I took iron back then and that resolved it. I started wondering if my iron was low, did a bunch of research into iron deficiency without anemia, and realized every single symptom, including ones I had been having for a while prior to the heart issues (terrible fatigue, brain fog, headaches, sleep disruptions, restless legs at night) could be from low iron.

So I need to get labs done, and also I do still need a referral to make sure my heart is ok. I can't get in with anyone, so out of desperation, I go back to my old clinic because I know they'll get me in quickly. They schedule me an appointment for the next day with a doc who is going to turn out to be batshit crazy.

I go to my appointment with my presumptive diagnosis of pericarditis, and the doctor asks if I had the Covid shot. I tell him yes, but my last booster was in 2021, so not relevant here.

Well boy howdy was I wrong. He launches into a whole-ass rant about how bad the shots are, how many people have been injured by them, tells me I, a formerly very healthy, athletic woman, now have heart issues due to the shot, etc. etc. I say, 'Ok, but would the shot really randomly cause me issues three years later when I was perfectly fine after I got it?' (The answer is no.) Doc stays the course in blaming the shot. I have paperwork I need filled out for medical leave from my job, and he PUTS ON MY PAPERWORK THAT I HAVE TO TURN IN that my cardiac issues came on and progressed after the shot (three YEARS after, you DUMBASS) and that his impression is post vaccine injury. I feel too badly to do much more than sway on the exam table and occasionally interject that I had the shot three years ago and I don't think that's the problem. The majority of my appointment is him ranting about the shots. Whatever, I'm desperate, give me my fucking referral to the cardiologist and order my iron panel.

I get labs done and sure enough, my iron is low. I start supplementing and shortly afterwards get a call from the cardiac clinic; I lucked out and got in just a few days after my referral was sent to them because someone canceled their appointment last minute. I see an ARNP at my first visit and she says the echo I had done at the hospital looks fine to her, but they'll do a seven day monitor, a repeat echocardiogram, and have me follow up with the cardiologist just to make sure they don't miss anything.

So they do this, and in the meantime, after a couple of weeks on iron supplements, I start slowly but steadily feeling a bit better. My fatigue and brain fog that I was having every day improve significantly after only a week on supplements. My dizziness goes away. I feel a tiny bit stronger every day and now can sit up longer and start holding conversations with people. It's slow but steady progress for about three weeks: and then I get my period again. It doesn't knock me back to square one, but I definitely take a couple of steps back in my recovery. It's a little lighter this time, though, which is a good sign.

I follow up with the cardiologist. He says actually my heart is in really good shape; no signs of pericarditis or anything wrong with it; my high heart rate isn't due to a cardiac issue. Cool. I didn't think so at this point, but good to hear I don't have heart issues.

So I go back to follow up with my doc and plan to ask to really focus on the iron issue since the cardiologist confirmed my heart is fine. I have come a long ways but am still mostly bedridden; it is very slow to get your levels up on iron supplementation, and every time I get my period, it sets me back a little. Maybe some low dose iron infusions would help boost my levels so my recovery doesn't go backwards on account of me bleeding for a week every few weeks.

Doc comes in the room. He is clearly Not Happy cardiology did not confirm his conspiracy theories about the shot injuring me. I tell him about the symptoms I have seen improve and even resolve after about six weeks on iron supplements, and how I think most if not all of my problems are from low iron. He pretty much completely ignores this. He asks me if my fatigue and brain fog have improved. I say, yes, they were some of the first symptoms to improve after I started taking iron. He does not even acknowledge I have spoken. He tells me he thinks I have a combination of chronic fatigue syndrome and POTS (postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome) caused by the shot. I remind him I just told him my fatigue had improved a lot since starting iron. And my heart rate is coming down too and not spiking as much, my issue is that every period after I've been improving, I suddenly get a little worse again. He ignores this. He tells me he is going to refer me to the neurologist to check for chronic fatigue and POTS. Ok, whatever, I'm pretty sure I don't have those things, but fine, have another specialist tell you you're wrong.

After about eight weeks on supplements, I really feel like I'm starting to turn a corner. I don't feel normal, but my heart rate has come down quite a bit, I can stand and walk around a lot longer without feeling like I'm going to pass out, and I feel the closest to normal that I have been in months.

And then I get my period again and my heart rate goes back up. I'm super frustrated at this point because I was So Close to being a functioning human again, so I decide to push for a low dose iron infusion. I just want to boost my levels high enough to get me over this hump so every period doesn't set me back right as I feel like I'm coming back to life. I've read lots of papers on iron deficiency without anemia (meaning your hemoglobin is normal) and decide to make an appointment armed with one paper in particular which was written by a doctor who has been treating iron deficiency for decades, and which lays out really comprehensively the numbers at which patients should be considered deficient based on their labs and symptoms, what numbers you should shoot for when treating the iron deficiency (I am higher now but still quite a ways away from the goal), and also lists a bunch of symptoms women in particular have reported that have resolved with iron treatment. I highlight all the symptoms on the list that I have had, as well as other sections particularly relevant to my specific case. (Spoiler alert: I did not even give him the paper.)

So I go to my appointment and he asks if I've heard from the neurologist yet. I say no, I'm sure it will be a while (there's only one in town, and I'm sure it takes a long time to get in). In the meantime, I really want to focus on getting my iron levels up. I lay everything out: all the improvements I've seen, how my period keeps setting me back, and how I want to try just a low 100mg infusion to boost me up so I don't take two steps back every time I get my period. He tells me I have chronic fatigue and POTS as a result of the Evil Shot. I tell him, once again, that my fatigue has greatly improved on iron supplements. He does not even acknowledge I have spoken. He tells me a local doctor is being PERSECUTED and PROSECUTED for prescribing Ivermectin for Covid. Ok, that doesn't relate to my personal medical issues that we are here to discuss, and also, Ivermectin is not approved for the treatment of Covid. I ask him again if I can get a low dose infusion. I understand insurance probably won't cover it, that's fine, I can pay out of pocket, I just need him to order it. He tells me he personally takes Ivermectin. Good for you. Again, not related to my medical issues that I am here to dicuss.

I mention that I have had restless legs at night for a long time, because I know this at least is commonly associated with low iron, maybe that will get his attention; nope. He totally ignores me again. I even try blaming the shot for low iron (sorry, Covid vaccine, sometimes you have to take one for the team). I say I have read Covid and maybe even the shot can deplete your iron; maybe the shot did this to my iron. No dice. (Mr. Jenn did applaud me for trying when I told him about it, though.)

He starts in about my POTS again. I say, ok, but POTS is a postural issue, right? He says, yes! I say, ok, then if I have an issue where my nervous system doesn't regulate my blood flow properly when I change from sitting to standing, why is my resting heart rate way higher than normal when I'm just lying in bed doing nothing, and why has my heart rate been coming down and is not spiking like it was after several weeks on iron supplements until I get my period? I'm not sure that fits with POTS.

He again does not even acknowledge I've spoken.

I ask again for an infusion to help boost me up so I'm not set back every period. He says as long as I'm menstruating it will set me back. Yes, I am aware I will lose more iron on my period, what I am asking is that while I am in ACTIVE CLINICAL IRON DEFICIENCY can we please do something to speed up getting my levels high enough so every time I bleed it doesn't knock me down again. He asks if I have considered a hysterectomy or uterine ablation for the bleeding (you know, invasive surgeries, instead of talking about birth control pills, which he didn't even mention). I said that was kind of extreme and I didn't want to consider that right now. I ask him about the infusion again. He says it's not a concern. I say, yeah, it is, I am having debilitating symptoms that have left me bedridden for three months. I need to get back to my life and my job. He tells me Congress is investigating the shots and it will come out how bad they are, but a lot of people won't believe it. I say, well, that's Congress' business, can I please have an infusion. He tells me insurance won't cover it. I say I know, I already mentioned that earlier (while you were ignoring me in favor of ranting about a vaccine I had three years ago), I have a health savings account, I can pay out of pocket. He tells me he's pretty sure I have chronic fatigue and POTS but we'll see what the neurologist says. I need to call and see if I can get in more quickly with the neurologist. I say, ok, in the meantime, since realistically it could take months for me to get in with the neurologist, can I PLEASE HAVE A FUCKING INFUSION. He tells me if I want one I will have to badger another doctor into it. (I can't remember the exact word he used, but the way he worded it made it sound like I was trying to bully him. No, you jackass, I am asking for an extremely common, low risk medical treatment for issues that have left me unable to work or leave my house for anything other than doctor's appointments for THREE MONTHS.)

So I left incredibly frustrated, needless to say.

Next day Mr. Jenn goes to his appointment at the clinic I initially tried to get into to follow up on labs he had done for an annual physical, and his doctor tells him his cholesterol is slightly high, but not enough to be concerned, he just needs to watch his saturated fats and red meat intake. Mr. Jenn tells him we've actually temporarily increased our red meat intake because of my health issues. He then mentions all of the issues I've been having, my lab results, and how I've improved a lot on supplements, but keep getting set back by my period. His doctors goes, 'Have you guys looked into infusions for her? You should try that.'

I DID BUT MY DOCTOR IS CRAZY.

Mr. Jenn explains that I had asked for an infusion and my doctor refused. His doctor gives him a weird look and wants to know why. Mr. Jenn explains it's because he's super set on it being chronic fatigue and POTS and won't consider anything else even though my 'chronic fatigue' and 'POTS' symptoms have both improved on iron supplements. The doctor again gives him a weird look and asks why he's stuck on those diagnoses and won't consider iron deficiency.

Because he's crazy, good sir.

Mr. Jenn's doctor then suggests we see if I can self-refer for an infusion and just pay out of pocket, but you need a doctor's order even if you're not going through insurance, so the next day when the clinic opens, I call, explain I tried to establish care there earlier so they have my new patient paperwork, but that I needed an urgent referral, and had to go somewhere else because they were a month out, but I really (REALLY) want to change doctors, is <Mr. Jenn's doc> taking new patients? He is not, but they'll put in a note with one of the ARNPs accepting new patients to see if they're willing to schedule me.

However, I know the new manager of the clinic (actually an old coworker from the crazy clinic that I'm friendly with), so the other day I texted her, briefly explained the situation, and she asked which doctor I wanted to see and said she'll talk to him when he's back from the long holiday weekend and see if he would be willing to see me. She will let me know later this week (he's not back in till Wednesday). So fingers crossed I can get in with a non-lunatic soon.

#personal

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allthebrazilianpolitics · 8 hours

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hi! could you possibly share the intercept new report about gay men and their misogyny? i know this isn't really about br politics, and im not even sure if it is in English, but i think it is really important to be shared

I hope it's not too late 😅

Gay men and misogyny: no more ignoring this problem

'Don't talk about vaginas around me': for a long time, we ignored the disqualifications of women and the feminine made by gay men. No more.

"If I liked women, I would have become a gynecologist."

"The law of gravity is a crime against women."

“Funny” gay guys, usually white and showing a certain hatred towards females, are a very common social type in contemporary pop culture. The character Felix “Bicha Má” ["Evil Fag"], played by Mateus Solano, from the Brazilian soap opera “Amor à Vida” [Love For Life], is an easy example in Brazilian lands – the sentences that open this text are his. But this sharp-tongued young man who directs much of his bitterness towards women, including friends and relatives, has never only lived on screens: he is a common presence in our daily lives.

"Oh, don't mention a vagina around me, I get all messed up."

"My goodness, this singer was beautiful, but she got old and ugly."

"Get out of here, I don't even like cracks."

I can't say how many times I've heard phrases like that from fellow gay men. For a long time, these ways of disqualifying women – despite the certain discomfort felt by every person who is repeatedly the target of prejudice – were endorsed and reflected by women ourselves. Offenses dressed as “I was just joking” have largely naturalized these forms of disqualification, but the good news is that, in an environment in which feminism has gained ground, what seemed to be just a joke is now named by the right word: misogyny.

This is a delicate subject, since we are talking about people – mostly cisgender gay men – who have been and still are victims of a series of violence, whether at home, at work, on the streets. Perhaps it was precisely this that made us, cisgender or transgender women, leave the discomfort of being made fun of in the background. After all, confronting homophobia in a sexist country like Brazil is no simple task. But if this machismo affects homosexual men, what can we say about its presence in women's daily lives? And what can we also say about the homophobia directed at cis/trans homosexual and bisexual women, especially invisible and also targets of “jokes” by gay men?

“I had a very close gay friend, like a brother. We went out to parties together and often slept in the same bed, at my house or his. Several times, as if he were joking, he said that he was terrified of vaginas, that he was born through a cesarean section so he wouldn't have to go through one. He'd gesture the sign of the Cross and said ‘God forbid’, smiling,” says Adriana Conceição, 47 years old, a telemarketing operator from Recife who, like several other women, took a while to classify the guy's actions with the right word.

Game developer Renata Gomes, also 47 years old, found herself at the center of a virtual outrage after questioning a post by a gay Brazilian film critic living in the United States. In the post, he talked about missing Brazil, since people worked a lot more in the USA. Faced with the possibility of his speech being reductive and stereotypical, he began to treat Renata as “ugly”, “militant”, “frustrated”. Furthermore, several of the critic's friends entered the comments to reiterate the delegitimization of Renata's speech.

Younger people also identify the problem: aware of the issue, Curitiba university student Nicoly Grevetti, aged 24, listened to several people who circulate in LGBTQIA+ spaces about the subject and wrote a text about it. In it, she also identifies how pop and queer cultures, supposedly safer and “modern”, also present misogynistic elements.

One example is the use of the term “fishy”, constantly evoked to define drag queens who closely resemble cisgender women (that is, who have a high degree of “passability”). The expression refers to the smell that these women's vaginas supposedly have. “[Cisgender] women grow up believing that their private parts are disgusting and spend their entire lives using products to reduce their natural odors, which can lead to various diseases. Having female genitalia as something disgusting is so common for this group, that you can find countless reports of women talking about it on the internet,” she wrote. The topic was the subject of discussion in the famous series RuPaul’s Drag Race, generating academic works like this one. Cisgender drag queen Victoria Scone, a former participant in the show, also spoke on the topic.

A few months ago, I experienced a significant episode of this machismo and misogyny that had been attenuated for a long time in relation to gay men. I was in a doctor's office very close to a shopping center in the south of Recife. After the end of the consultation, the dermatologist – homosexual, white, in his late thirties, and anti-Bolsonaro in the last elections – lightly tapped my hand and said: “Okay, now you can go for a walk in the mall.”

Especially on that day, I was rushing to finish presenting a lecture that I would give the following day, online, at the University of Coimbra. Obviously, if I wanted to window shop or spend the afternoon reading celebrity magazines, it wouldn't be a problem (in fact, I love it). The point here was the doctor's obvious intention to fit me into the cliché of the futile and consumerist woman, a sexist and anachronistic way of disqualifying the female gender. Icing on the cake: while I was leaving, the gay boy warned me not to forget to take “the boss” to my next appointment. He was referring to my romantic partner.

If it's feminine, it's smaller

The misogyny present in the practices of part of this population is so evident that it goes beyond the boundaries of gender and occurs between equals: it is common to see it operating even among gay men themselves. Research I carried out in partnership with Professor Ricardo Sabóia, from the Federal University of Pernambuco, analyzed the relationship between body and celebrity on the Grindr app. I was astonished by both the hatred towards what is socially seen as feminine and the extremely high level of normativity, standardization, and even elitism. “'I'm not into effeminate guys” is a constant, as is “I'm not into fat guys”.

In this environment of extremely high value for toned biceps and abs, being masculine – and looking very masculine – is the strongest currency. Thus, men seen as “little women” are disqualified. This is what researcher Carlos Alberto de Carvalho calls “misogynistic heteronormativity”, in which the masculine and masculinities are placed as positive – on the other hand, femininities and the feminine are valued negatively. It is, therefore, an environment of hegemonic masculinity and subaltern masculinities.

The global soap opera “Terra e Paixão” [Land & Passion] currently features an illustration that refers to this scenario, with the character Kelvin (actor Diego Martins), an “effeminate” gay man in love with Ramiro (Amaury Lorenzo), the masculine man, self-declared heterosexual, who desires the other person, but still doesn't know how to deal with the situation. What diminishes the power of the first is precisely its proximity to what is considered “womanly”. But, looking at Grindr, even the desirable “brucutu” [Brazilian slang for a brute and rude man] has his limits: issues such as level of education have weight in the app used mostly by gay and bisexual men, where it is common to read “no illiterates”.

The LGBTQIA+ culture, in which rich and middle-class white homosexual men repeatedly appear to discriminate against other peers from the same community, is a central sociological issue for discussing social inequalities not only in Brazil, but throughout the world. “Queer cultural production has helped to reproduce class distinctions based on the hegemony of representations of middle-class gays”, writes Lisa Henderson in the article “I’m not/I'm not into: circulating meanings in the presentation speeches of the Grindr app”, by Rafael Grohmann. In the same text, Juan Marsiaj summarizes: “Such a strategy can lead to the acceptance of a type of gay (white, middle class), seen as a model of citizen-consumer, and a greater marginalization of all other 'debauches' who do not fit this way. In more Brazilian terms: there is a risk of accepting rich gays and further marginalizing poor queers.”

Discrimination on the part of this part of the queer community was evidenced in a historic episode in the 1970s, in super liberal New York. In June 1973, the Christopher Street Liberation Day Rally took place in the city, a demonstration held in favor of the rights of the queer population – which, at that time, as we will see, in fact was basically limited to white, middle-class gay women and men.

But, among the public, was the activist Sylvia Rivera, a transvestite who in 1971 had created the Revolutionary Action of Street Transvestites, STAR. Rivera had been trying to get on stage for some time, but Jean O’Leary, a lesbian white radical feminist, acted to prevent her from participating. A sample of how, many times, cisgender homosexual/bisexual women also enact the same discrimination as homosexual/bisexual men.

When he finally managed to grab the microphone, Rivera took aim at the hundreds of mostly white gay men and women present. Her speech is a synthesis of the violence experienced by queers who are too effeminate, too poor, too black, or too latine.

“I've tried to speak out here all day for your gay brothers and sisters in jail. They write to me every damn week asking for help – and you don't do a damn thing for them. I lost my job and my apartment for gay liberation… and you guys treat me this way?” she screamed.

The anger had yet another weight and meaning: alongside another important name, the transvestite Marsha P. Johnson, Rivera went down in history as one of the first to face police repression at the New York bar Stonewall Inn, on June 28, 1969. The conflict was the trigger for a fundamental civil movement for human rights – so much so that the date ended up becoming what was then called International LGBT+ Pride Day.

The question remained: how could that engaged audience repudiate the person who, at just 18 years old, spoke out against violence that was not directed just at her? How could they recriminate someone who pulled the trigger that would benefit precisely that white homosexual population?

Rivera and Johnson, who lived in a shelter, were profoundly different from the majority of the public who would return to their comfortable homes after the demonstration. Unlike Rivera, the daughter of a Venezuelan mother and a Puerto Rican father, most had not spent nights in jail or suffered police rape. The activist died homeless, alone, without the care she should have received. Marsha P. Johnson, the decorated, made-up, smiling, super queer transvestite, was murdered and her body thrown into a river.

Thinking historically and humanly about both is a central issue in the debate on hatred of “feminine” and other diverse discriminations present among the LGBTQIA+ population. The right-wing has long opened a war against women, and the rise of red pill assholes is just one of the phenomena of this reality. It still includes names like former federal deputy Daniel Silveira, who broke the plaque with Marielle's name alongside Rodrigo Amorim. [Note from the translator: Marielle Franco was a black bisexual favela-born leftist councilwoman who was assassinated by militias.]

But, as it turns out, misogyny is not exclusive to right-wing radicals and conservatives. And if Sylvia and Marsha were on the front line to guarantee the rights of millions of people, without distinction of creeds, race, genders, and degrees of “femininity”, it is worth asking: when will cisgender gay men, mostly white and middle class, join, with emphasis and strength, debates such as the right to abortion, employment, and wages, issues of life and death for the majority of black Brazilian women? When will the majority of this same group take a stand on the thousands of rapes that mainly victimize girls and teenagers? What collectivities, after all, are we talking about? As Jorge Ben would say in the song Zumbi: I want to see. We're here.

Source, translated by the blogger.

#LGBT #feminism #asks #anonymous #translations and summaries #mod nise da silveira #image description in alt

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