At my Mama's

rebelscaptain → flyboydameron

[back to a classic folks]

@spiiderpunk @empressofthelibrary @milfzatannaz @helenasandsmark @scrambledhearts @scoundreldameron

I hate security questions. Like. This test is about me and I'm still failing.

Me, age 11 watching The Phantom Menace: hot take I don’t like Qui-Gon

Me: *holds onto that feeling for over 20 years*

Me, now, reading Master and Apprentice and watching Tales of the Jedi: WAIT. Wait. Wait. Oh. OH. Shit. DAMMIT 

what do you do when you become overwhelmed and your escapism techniques arent strong enough anymore and you start thinking about running away... again...

I had to travel to California for work last week, and because it was my first time flying, I was scared and asked my mom to come with me. The whole trip she just kept staring at my hair, gasping at how dark it is now, and it looks red.

I had light blonde hair growing up, and it became more of a dirty blonde when I was a teenager. Starting in my early 20s, it became darker (more of a light brown) with reddish undertones. Even my dad nearly had a heart attack when I was walking on a sidewalk in front of him a few years ago. He just suddenly screamed, "Wait, why does your hair look red? Did you dye it???"

I don't know what color my hair is anymore, and it's driving me insane! I think it's too dark for blonde and only looks red in a certain light. Am I light brown? I don't know!

back with chalamst!

jills-roberts → chalamst

does it count as a system if there's only two of you and one of them(the core) sorta fucked off and died? like- She couldn't handle it, I appeared, she had me take over, and then she disapeared and I'm the only one left. no other alters have appeared and I have [REDACTED]'s memories but I'm not her like at all really so what am I??

I spend one whole day in the sun and turn a whole different color. Also why don't I tan evenly? WHY ARE MY LEGS STILL WHITE!?

Going absolutely insane over the concept of name and identity in The Odyssey. The concept of recognition. Like, the reveal of one's identity is present in both The Iliad and The Odyssey, but specifically The Odyssey drives me into despair.

The Phaeacians don't recognize Odysseus. His family doesn't recognize Odysseus (except his dog!! all praise Argos). Odysseus doesn't recognize Ithaca. There's barely any recognition without revealing, and Odysseus takes a while to reveal himself. Chronologically speaking, his first disguise in The Odyssey is Nobody. And when he does reveal his true identity, it causes him and his crew pain and suffering. Maybe that instilled a fear of revealing his true identity. His name invoked the death of his men. And all his other identities (too tired to remember/look for all the names he's gone under), while realistic and authentic sounding, are non-existent. All those people he claimed he was are not real. They are nobody. If he is not Odysseus, he is nobody, and if he is not nobody, he is Odysseus. But Odysseus, his fucking name drives me insane. His name means to hate. Since his childhood that hatred was imprinted on him. Do you think it left an lasting impact?? Some sort of "expectation" that he had to meet?? A curse, a constant shadow following him everywhere he goes?? Something he inherited, that is tied to him even if it's not his?? Hate was tied to him directly through his name that his grandfather gave him. In The Iliad, everyone refers to him as "Son of Laertes (which is obviously the way they identified as back then)", "sacker of cities", "long-enduring" etc etc. But Odysseus refers to himself as "Father of Telemachus". Also this:

He swears by his son's name, by the name of someone, something that is his. Something that is not inherited, that isn't placed upon him. Something that he earned himself. Something that he loves, the opposite of the hate that is his name. It's a part of him, part of his identity. And if he is not the son of Telemachus, then he isn't Odysseus. He is nobody.

But in The Odyssey, he refers to himself as the sacker of cities. When he introduces himself to the Phaeacians, he says that he is the sacker of cities. His invention of the Trojan horse was the bane of Troy. And that trick is a part of him, his cunning and trickery. He destroyed the home of hundreds, thousands of people. And do you think, that after every hardship he faced on his journey back home, he lost his sense of self?? In the war, he had the hope of going back home. He had the hope that he would see his wife and son again. As long as the other kings and soldiers are there, also longing to go back home, then his hope is real. He is real. But after all of his men died, he was alone. No one to share his longing, to share his hope. No one is there to remind him that he is real. So he only has his newer memories, new things that are tied to him. Sacker of cities. Long enduring. Doesn't sound all that happy. It almost sounds like hate. Without the hope of seeing everything that is his because he earned/worked for it himself, he goes back to his name. It might be the only thing grounding him, reminding him that he is real. And when he hears the bard sing of the fall of Troy, the man absolutely weeps. Because he sings about him. He sings about the fall of Troy, and it fell because of him. It fell because he is the sacker of cities. He is the sacker of cities because he is Odysseus. Because he doesn't know who he is. And even Penelope when she listens to the bard wants him to sing about something else. Someone else. Because that is not her Odysseus, her husband, her son's father. It hurts her to think that even though he might be alive, her Odysseus is gone. He is dead either way. And even his son when he sees him first thinks he is a god. That he is not human, that he is not a man. Because gods are immortal, ever lasting. And mortals have only a lifetime to make it worth it, to attach something to themselves and their names. And Telemachus thinks that his father is a god, that his father has no name and no identity of his own.

And when his loved ones recognize him, it's by the things he attached himself to during the war. The things that are a part of his real identity, of his identity. Odysseus tells his son that he is his father. Argos recognizes him as his master. Eurycleia recognizes his scar that he earned when he went hunting. He tells his father about the trees in the orchard. And Penelope finally believes it's him because of the olive tree bed story. The bed that he built himself. That he built his home around. And Penelope doesn't believe it's truly Odysseus, because he is not the man that left Ithaca twenty years ago. But when Odysseus is able to tell her about the bed, she can believe it's Odysseus. Or atleast a part of him is there. It's Odysseus Odysseus, the name and identity that he built. And not Odysseus, the name that simply means hate.

illicit affairs

buddie | E | chapter 1 of 8(ish) | 3k | just a boy helping his boy bestie figure out gay sex, with a side of infidelity This is how it starts: Buck goes on a date with Tommy. How it goes from there, Eddie can't even begin to explain.

Chapter 1: born from just one single glance

It’s in the aftermath, when Bobby and Athena are safe and being checked over and the 118 plus family and friends is piled in the waiting room as usual — they all have their preferred chairs with how often they’re here — that Eddie’s unfocused mild interest in this new guy who his friends trust, turns to sharp notice. 

Eddie has to step away to call Carla, to let her know they got Athena and Bobby, to assure her that he’s fine, Buck’s fine, they’re all fine. And then he spares an extra moment to text Marisol because he knows she’ll see the news soon, if she hasn’t already, and will worry.

After, when he returns to the waiting room, Tommy’s in his seat. Eddie doesn’t really have a specific one he favors so much as he always takes one next to Buck. So, it follows that, Tommy is now sitting beside Buck. 

When Eddie left, Buck’d been pale-faced, and shaky in a way he wasn’t when Bobby was missing and he had a goal to focus on. Eddie hadn’t wanted to leave him, but it was Buck who’d said didn’t he need to call Carla? Let Chris know they’re okay?

Eddie pauses across the room and regards the scene before him. Tommy is leaned in, chatting to Buck, making wide, expressive gestures with his hands as he does. Buck’s still more grey than pink in the cheeks and one hand is clutching the arm of his chair, but he’s stopped picking at the patch of peeling paint he’s about tripled in size over their past handful of waiting room residences and there’s a hint of a smile curling the side of his mouth, which had been a grim line before, waiting for the doctor to report back on Bobby and Athena, waiting to be allowed to see them. 

“He’s in good hands.”

Eddie starts at Hen’s words. She appears from behind him carrying two paper cups of what Eddie understands from experience is the worst coffee known to man. He used to force it down because caffeine is caffeine, but he can’t anymore. It reminds him too much of the three minutes and seventeen seconds that were some of the worst of his life.

read on ao3

guys the ghoul being a cowboy larper who has been completely consumed by his old-timey job slash bit could be lethal for me. you've seen what happened. you've SEEN what happened. you KNOW HOW I GET about DESICCATED MEN IN HATS

Your Male V is gender goals

Sincerely,

A transmasc

omg please anon i specifically created him to maximize my gender envy. atp i can't stand him 😭

I keep getting vaguely bummed out about TOTK which is so annoying bc I don't even dislike the game?? I'm genuinely having a blast with it. But also all the overarching but cohesive themes and meta storytelling about the reincarnation cycle and its consequences and the tragically beautiful world in BOTW?? Like what happened to all that?? That was what made me so mentally ill (/aff) in the first place!!

I reallyyyy want to talk about how much fun it would be to jerk a really submissive Bucky off with a pair of soaked panties 🙈

I feel like submissive Bucky is so vocal too and I love that thought. He trusts you completely with his body and he's not ashamed to make as much noise as he wants to.

He knows what his little whines and moans do to you. You get off on his desperation and he absolutely knows it. You can't help but melt when he looks up at you from his knees, his eyes wide and expectant, whispering "please, mommy" when all he wants is permission to kiss from your ankle to your knee.

He's learned that being well mannered is the only way to get what he wants so you don't mind rewarding his good behaviour. His plump lips begin to trail eagerly from the ankle strap of your heel, up the side of your calf until he reaches the joint at your knee. Your fingers tangle in his hair, warning him not to go any further and the groan he elicits is heavenly.

"Please let me kiss you." He practically sounds like he's panting. Frustration has settled into his features, his eyes trained on the cherry red lace that shields your sex from his hungry gaze.

He knows you're already wet and he knows that if he's just able to kiss a little bit higher, your self control might waver enough that you'll allow him to lap up your arousal and that's really all he's dreaming of.

"You're so selfless, aren't you?" Your sarcasm isn't lost on him. He wants to taste you because he wants to taste you, not so much for your pleasure. "No, let's try something different."

You slip your panties down your legs but he's smart enough to know you aren't going to give him exactly what he wants.

You kneel down beside him, lining your hand with the slick lace before wrapping your fingers around his stiff cock that's been begging for attention for far too long now.

"O-oh my God." The first stroke of your hand makes him crumble. Despite being slick, the lace offers so much friction and he's far too sensitive for that.

Your hand pumps quickly, watching his face while he begins to slip. "Good boy, that's it. Take it. Fuck, you're so pretty, do you know that? You're doing so well for me."

" 's too much. Please. Don't stop." His head falls forwards onto your shoulder, groaning pathetically into the crook of your neck.

"Do you want to cum, sweetheart? Are you going to be a filthy slut and cum in my panties? Do you even realise how fucked up that is?" Your soft voice makes him melt up until your hand on his cock speeds up.

"Y-yes. Oh God yes, please let me cum." He didn't think it'd be this easy but when you give him permission, he knows to take the opportunity while he's getting it.

In just a few more minutes, his thighs are trembling as he shoots a thick load into the already saturated lace lining your hand. The release of each gush of his seed feels more euphoric than the last and he's whining pathetically, up until he's fucked himself empty into your fist.

"Good boy." You whisper, kissing his damp forehead while he catches his breath. "I'm so proud of you."

You unfold the lace, admiring just how much of his cum he's managed to splatter over just your underwear. "Now. I want you to put these on and wait in the bedroom."

I hate how when I come out to other people as aromantic I'm so often met with a version of "don't you think you'll find the one?" and them telling me that I should be open minded and not rule out dating completely.

Like, why do they feel like they need to tell me that? Those words just revive all my doubts that I shouldn't call myself aro and that I'm not "valid" as aromantic. Do they not understand that it took a lot of courage to tell them this personal thing about myself and that them immediately questioning what I've said won't make me feel better?!

It took me over a year of soul-searching to gain the confidence to use this word to describe myself and my experiences, and their first reaction to me letting them in on this knowledge is that I have to be wrong and that it's not okay for me to call myself that.

I literally would have been fine if they just said, "okay, cool."

I hate that aromanticism is still seen as something so negative that people's first reaction to a coming out as aromantic is to console the person coming out (by invalidating them).