Dickkory are so T4T

She helps him pick out his new name and form his new identity outside of the repression of his family

He loves her for her freedom of expression and emotion, and never treats her as weak because of her trauma but also never allows it to consume her

The height difference!!!

In Session

This one is a doozy. Warnings: m/f sex, over stimulation, multiple orgasms, voyeurism, male masturbation, cum eating, use of mutant abilities in a sexual situation. 18+ please!

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The three of you have been home for a couple of weeks now and, unfortunately for poor Bucky, the pixie dust has worn off. All Steve has to do is breathe near you and you go off. He has apologized and apologized but you refuse to let it go. Steve tries to be patient with you. He accepts that what he said gutted you. He is trying to make it up to you but you rebuke all of his attempts.

Quite frankly the whole thing gives Bucky anxiety. As soon as he hears “You know what, Steve?” He reaches for the antacids. In two weeks he was leaving for a semi long trip with Sam and Nat. He needed to set you on the path to healing before he left you two alone. That’s why he hijacked you both and brought you to his therapist.

Dr. Coleman is far more gentle than his VA therapist. She specializes in PTSD and has worked with many first responders and members of law enforcement. She also helps couples to reacclimate following traumatic experiences. Bucky thought that, with the amount of trauma the three of you had suffered, she would be perfect to help.

Neither of you were pleased to be there. The doctor spoke ok Bucky’s behalf at the start of the session. “Steve, Y/N. I’m so glad you’re here. This is an important first step on the path to healing. You are here for each other as much as you are here for yourselves. What we know is the three of you love each other very much. I would like you to keep that in the front of your minds as we go through this journey. I do have a few ground rules. First, we will not raise our voices or become physical here or at home. Second, we will not resort to name calling. Third, we will not shut down when confronted. We will speak on our feelings. Can I gain your agreement on those rules?” You all nodded. “Wonderful. I just need the two of you to sign some consent forms and we’ll be on our way.”

You hated therapists of any kind. You never had a good experience. Grant it, your only experiences were forty something years ago. You were sure there were advances. Still, you were wary of this woman. She does seem to help Bucky. If this is what he needed, you’d do it for him. When she asked Steve to speak first you nearly gagged.

“Steve, tell me why you think we’re all here today.”

He sighed loudly and spoke in a monotone voice like he was in trouble in the principal’s office. “We’re here because our bickering is upsetting Buck.”

“Ok. Can you tell me why you and Y/N have been bickering so much lately?”

“Because he’s impossible to live with.” You said not so under your breath. Steve was quick to react but Dr. Coleman stopped him.

“Y/N, you will have your turn to speak. Please give Steve the courtesy of having his time uninterrupted.” Steve smirked at you. You wanted to reach over and slap him in his smug face but Bucky rested his hand over yours.

“We’re bickering because I said a horrible thing to Y/N and she refuses to forgive me.”

“Right. And what did you say?” Fuck it was like pulling teeth.

“I told her in the heat of an argument that I didn’t want a whore for a wife. But I said I didn’t mean it and that I was sorry. She refuses to move on.”

Dr. Coleman listened to both of your sides and gave you some short term and long term goals. She asked you to open the door for better communication. She understood why you were so upset, especially since his admission was premeditated. She tasked Steve with finding a way to come to terms with what you do. Now that he knows why he feels the way he does, it is time to confront those feelings as his own and stop projecting them onto you. She also suggested that, while Bucky was gone, the two of you should do couple things. Your love was not linked exclusively through Bucky.

The three of you left feeling a little lighter. You made promises to each other and you intended to keep them. The couple of weeks leading up to Bucky’s trip were fine. There was something hanging in the air that made Bucky nervous. Like you two were just waiting for him to leave so you could unload on each other. Steve promised he wouldn’t make faces when you left for your appointments. You promised not to snap at him over every little thing. He didn’t believe either of you.

The night before he left, Steve fell asleep on the couch. You were already in bed half asleep yourself. It was rare when you had alone time. When they were in deep Avengers mode, you cherished your privacy. Maybe it was time to start thinking of getting a bigger place.

Bucky came out of the shower still warm and a little damp. He smelled like cedar and fresh rain. He dropped his towel and slipped under the covers. Compared to him your skin felt cool when you pressed your bare ass against him. “You’re so warm, daddy.”

“I needed that hot shower after the training session Steve and I had. I wore him out.”

“Mmmm. I bet you did. Did you fuck in the gym again?”

His laugh rumbled against your back. “Not this time. Should I go wake him?”

“No. We haven’t had a moment alone since he moved in. This is gonna sound disgusting but I kind of like it when you’re sweet with me.” You didn’t have to say anymore. He slid his hands under your arms to palm your breasts and pressed gentle kisses along your neck and spine. With his knee he parted your legs so he could stroke your warmth. You whined in his mouth when he ran your slick over your clit. He took his time pumping his fingers inside of you coaxing tiny whimpers and moans out of your body. “Fuck me, Jamie.”

You had never called him Jamie during sex until you told him you loved him. His name falling from your lips became his favorite sound. You invoked him like you were invoking God praying for peace. Your cunt fluttered and squeezed his cock bringing you both to your end. “I love you, Jamie.”

“Oh my…I love you too, baby. I’m gonna miss you so much.” He stayed inside of you keeping his spend deep inside of your channel and fell asleep. Sam would be there early.

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Your calendar was pretty full the first week Bucky was gone. Most of your appointments were during the day. Steve was back and forth between the apartment and compound. You settled into a pleasant routine like a normal couple with typical careers and predictable schedules. You even got through a meeting when a realtor without a single clenched jaw.

“Do you have time for lunch?” He was so hopeful. You promised Bucky.

“Yeah. I think so.” He took your hand and held it all the way to a cute little spot down the street. “I like this neighborhood. Not far from the subway. Walkable.”

“I like it too. I’ve seen a ton of kids out and about.” That made you want to cringe but you held it in. None of you have had the cliche conversation about your futures. Since you were the only one who could bear children, you figured you should speak up.

“Do you want kids?” You kept your eyes on your salad.

“Yeah. I really do. Have you um, been checked out? Can you have children?” God this was awkward.

“I can. I wonder if Hydra has successfully bred a serum baby. Like, it altered our DNA. I wonder what would happen.” His brow furrowed. He really hadn’t thought about that.

“I will have to look into it. That’s something we need to know I guess. Why do we feel so weird around each other?”

“Right?!” You were so glad he felt it too.

“Are you ever going to forgive me?” He asked so quiet and quickly that you almost didn’t hear.

“Before I answer that question can I ask a question?” He nodded. “Why are you ok with me having your babies but not being your wife? I know in therapy you said it scared you and you didn’t care for my clients. I get all of that. Those are valid things. I can’t help but think you don’t like the optics.” That was the million dollar question. Could Captain America be out as polyamorous? You felt like Steve might be a closet Republican. Most of the republicans that were your clients were the biggest freaks.

“There’s nothing our media team can’t spin. I’m not embarrassed by you and Buck. My reasons for disliking your job are exactly what I said. I feel like being out about our relationship puts a target on your back.”

“But that’s not what you said, Steve. You said ‘I don’t want a whore for a wife’. That implies something completely different. I like what I do. Those rich assholes and politicians put money in my purse. A lot of my clients are like us. Freaks of nature. They can’t have normal relationships. I help them. I don’t judge their abilities or physical mutations. We just fuck and they feel normal for a while. Like the guy I’m seeing tonight. He just wants to feel normal.”

Steve was quiet for the rest of lunch. You gave him a lot to think about. He had no idea you saw yourself as a freak of nature or that you saw him that way. Everyone celebrated what Steve was but essentially threw you away. The people on your client list who he saw as villains have been tossed out by the society he swore to protect. He guessed he jumped the shark a bit by even bringing up marriage. Not like you were there yet.

You and Bucky seemed to have a don’t ask don’t tell policy regarding your situation. That was not Steve. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew without a doubt that you were safe. Tonight he will follow you. If he ever wanted to move passed his own feelings, he had to know.

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Tonight you were seeing Erik Lensherr which meant you had to be prepared for anything. He never beat you like other idiots did. He wasn’t stupid. Why hit you when it doesn’t hurt? He liked to really bring you to the brink of pain with pleasure. Sometimes he edged you for hours. He loved when you were a drooling sobbing mess begging for relief. That’s what turned him on. After sessions with him, you always took the following day off.

You and Steve had dinner together. You were both much more relaxed. He sat in the bathroom while you got ready. You picked a dress and made sure to have lots of mascara on. Mascara tears were Erik’s favorite. While you put on your jewelry, he stood behind you and kissed your shoulders. You missed his touch. You leaned in and let him put his hands on you.

“You look beautiful, honey.” he said against the back of your neck.

“Thank you. Why don’t you take the day off tomorrow? We can stay in bed all day.”

He smiled that beautiful sunshine smile at you that made your insides liquid. “Really? Does that mean you forgive me?”

You giggled, “No. It means I want to get reacquainted. Forgiveness is not so easy for me. Maybe if you ever put a ring on it, I’ll forgive you.”

“I’ll take it. Will you be out late?” He kissed his way down your neck.

“I’m not really sure. If I know I won’t be coming home I’ll text you. I wouldn’t wait up.” You allowed him to really kiss you. My lord Steve Rogers is an amazing kisser. He is confident and strong in his movements. He kisses with his whole body. Hands roam your back and and shoulders while he presses your body into his. His eyes barely close, making his lashes flutter on the tops of his cheeks. And he softly moans which drives you crazy. Well, at least Erik won’t have to warm you up.

“I love you. Be safe. Call me if absolutely anything is off. Promise.”

“Yes, sir. I love you, too.”

He gave you a thirty second head start before he followed you on his bike. You met Erik at a beautiful brownstone. He held the door for you and kissed both of your cheeks. Steve saw him pour you a drink and direct you to the sofa by the small of your back. You looked comfortable enough. It was clear the two of you were friends. Then, he sat next to you. His movements became predatory. He always kept his hands on you.

Soon he was taking your drink and leading you up the stairs. It was the moment of truth. He could walk away satisfied that you were safe or climb the fire escape to watch. The thought of seeing you in flagrante was turning him on way more than he should have been. Option B it was.

He climbed to the second story where he sat stock still in a darkened corner. The window was cracked a bit so he could hear everything.

The two of you kissed passionately. Erik’s hands found your zipper and made quick work of shedding your dress. He pushed you to the bed which was decorated by an ornate metal head and footboard. He raised his hand and part of the bed broke off bending around your wrists to bind you.

“Too tight, Princess?”

“No, sir.” Next he attached a spreader bar to your ankles springing your legs open wide. “Color?”

“Green.” Your voice was steady but your breath was heaving in your chest. Steve wondered if it was nerves or excitement.

Erik knelt beside you and stroked your face. “How many times shall I make my Princess cum tonight hmm? Shall we try for six?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” He produced a string of metal balls from his pocket and popped them one by one into your mouth. His lips were on yours again. His tongue moved the balls around your mouth clacking them on your teeth. When he was satisfied with their saturation he pried your mouth open with his thumb and removed them. He parted your folds and sunk the balls into your dripping hole one by one. His fingers danced swirling the orbs inside of your cunt. Your back arched off the bed. “Does that feel good, Princess?”

“Yes , sir. So good.”

“Excellent. Princess, I want you to count out loud each time you come. I will edge you for one hour if I don’t hear you.”

“Ah! Yes, sir.” The coil in your belly was building. Erik smiled down on your writhing body. You tried to bring your thighs together but the bar was made of steel. Unless you focused you couldn’t break it.

“Look at you. I bet if I touched you even a little you would cum.” He ran his index finger lightly over your clit and you fell apart.

“One! Oh my…one.” You moaned and that beautiful sound went right to Steve’s cock. He stroked himself outside of his pants at first. He wanted to last as long as you. It would be difficult.

“Good girl. That’s my good, Princess. Doing so well.”

He kept the balls swirling while he licked a stripe up your cunt. His lips closed over your clit. Your hips bucked wildly against his face. You threw your head back against the bed and screamed, “Fuck! Two!”

He pressed the pads of his fingers over your clit and rubbed furiously. “Three” you whimpered.

He smacked your pussy hard. “Didn’t hear you, love.”

“Three, sir.”

“You getting tired on me? You have three more. Color, darling.”

“Green, sir.”

“Oooh. She’s being a warrior tonight. Give me one more in my mouth and I’ll take two on my cock.”

“Yes, sir.”

He went back to licking your snatch. You were sonsensitive. His big hands held you still while he licked and nibbled. Steve leaned on the railing panting. He couldn’t take it anymore. He unsheathed his throbbing member and wrapped it tight in his fist.

You got to four and tears started streaking your face. Erik pulled out the balls and tossed them aside. You mewled at the emptiness in your pussy. Erik undressed. When his cock was free he ran the leaking tip around the hole pushing in ever so slightly. The stretch made you cry out.

“So wet for me. You’re leaking and I haven’t even pushed all the way in. Do you want more?” You nodded so he pulled away. “Use your words or you won’t get to cum.”

“More please, sir. I need it.” He slammed into you letting his pelvis hit your clit hard.

“Was that five, my darling?”

“N…no, sir. M’so close.”

“Give it to me.” His hips pumped faster and faster. You screamed and nearly arched yourself in half.

“Fiiiiive. Yellow, sir.”

“Oh you feel so good around my cock. One more and then I’ll paint your belly and tits.”

Steve pumped his fist in time with Erik’s hips. When you came the sixth time, so did he. Hot ropes of cum dribbled onto his hand. He kept stroking while Erik finished.

“Think you can go for seven? It would make me so proud.” You were much too sensitive.

“Red! Red red red.” Erik pulled out immediately and jerked himself all over your belly and breasts. Out of breath he fell over onto the bed next to you. You looked wrecked. With a wave of his hand your wrists were free. He undid the spreader and kissed you deeply.

“Water, Princess?”

“Yes, please.” He brought you a glass and held it to your lips. He tossed you your dress. You didn’t clean yourself up. That was part of the scene. You went home still sticky with his cum. Steve was feral at the thought of licking another man’s seed off of you. He made it down and onto his bike before you got to the door.

You took your payment and kissed Erik goodbye.

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Steve made it into the house moments before you. He changed his clothes and acted like he had been home all night. His heart thumped loud in his ears when he heard your keys in the door.

“Hey, honey. Didn’t expect you so early.” You patted him on the head as you limped into the bathroom.

“Need a shower.”

“Can I join you?” The thought of cumming again nearly made you cry.

“Yes, but only to shower.” He jumped up and followed you. You shook out your hair and went to unzip your dress but his hands were there already.

“You look so pretty right now. All fucked out. You were such a good girl tonight.” Every nerve in your body prickled. He kissed down your neck and the top of your spine.

“Steve, did you follow me?” Your voice was low. Your expression unreadable.

“Are you mad? I just wanted peace of mind. I got a lot more than that. I’m not saying I’ll be ok every time. But, if I’m honest, I’ve been thinking about licking that cum off of you.” Your whole body went warm. A smirk pulled at the corner of your lips as you edged down your dress.

“Did you like what you saw, sweet boy?”

“Mmm. Very much.”

“Did you make yourself cum watching us?”

“I did.” He ground his hard cock into your ass cheek.

“I’m so sticky. Clean me up before we shower.” He knelt in front of you and licked all of the dried cum off of your belly. “Mmm. Good boy.”

“I need to be inside of you so bad. Please can I fuck you?”

“Please fuck me, Steve.”’ He brought you into the shower and soaped you up. After the two of you were clean he kissed you fiercely. He lifted your hips and drove into you. “I can’t wait until Jamie gets home so I can tie you to the chair while he fucks my brains out. Wanna watch Jamie fuck me, sweet boy?” He moaned loudly.

“Yes, ma’am. Wanna watch him pound this pretty pussy.” It wasn’t long before you both lost it.

You got into bed and stretched out on his chest. “Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“I had no idea I would like that.”

You giggled, “We learn something new about ourselves every day.” You both completely passed out.

The next morning Bucky got home early. He was shocked that Steve wasn’t already up. He found the two of you sleeping soundly. He nearly cried at how content you were. Steve opened his eyes and pressed his finger to his lips. Bucky got undressed and crawled in behind you. He pressed a kiss onto your shoulder and laid an arm across your back. He and Steve laced their fingers together.

“Did you make up?” He whispered.

“Something like that. It’s a long story.” You stirred a little.

“Jamie?”

“I’m home, baby doll. Go back to sleep.” He kissed you again and pulled the covers over you.

“K. Steve’s a kinky freak.” You buried your face into Steve to shield you from the sun streaming in from the curtains.

Bucky raised an eyebrow and smiled. Steve kept his eyes closed. “What the fuck happened?”

“Get some sleep. I promise we’ll show you later.” He kissed the back of Bucky’s hand and fell back to sleep. Bucky forced himself to close his eyes. He couldn’t imagine what was going to happen but he couldn’t wait to find out.

WHAT'S GOING ON? THIS IS PART TWO OF ME RIPPING APART DHAR MANN'S VIDEOS ABOUT FATPHOBIA! Whoo-hoo!

Before I get started, here's an obligatory trigger warning: This post will be talking about fatphobia, bullying, homelessness, mentioned ED, fat shaming, shaming a person FOR EATING, and the abused thanking his abuser AS AN ADULT for tormenting him as a young, impressionable teenage boy.

If any of that is triggering, upsetting, or makes you uncomfortable in any way, you don't have to read this post. Please consume media that sparks joy for you.

This time, there won't be a response from me about this video, like I usually do with all my Dhar Mann posts. If you want to see my response, refer to my first post about fatphobia (the one about the plus-size woman being fat shamed). It does tie in with this post, as my thoughts on this video are the exact same here. Yes, even though this is about a (at the time) plus-size black teenage boy being targeted. Search for the "dhar mann talk" tag and it's one of the most recent posts. I don't believe anyone should be shamed for their weight. Your weight doesn't hold any significance to your worth as a person. Don't let anything or anyone tell you otherwise.

With all of that out of the way, let's get to the video!

To sum up the video, it starts out with a plus-size black teenage boy (Kurt or "Big Boy", as he's called almost throughout the entire video) who's on a basketball court at school with his friend (Mike), a few other teenage boys, and Mike's uncle (Frank) is their coach. Mike is the captain on one team, Frank is the captain on the other team. They're picking teammates, and everyone is on a team except for Kurt and another boy. Frank says to his nephew to not pick Kurt (he called him "Big Boy" instead) because "he'd never win with him". LIKE THEY WERE PLAYING FOR THE NBA. CALM YOUR DICK. HOLY FUCKING HELL. THEY'RE KIDS.

Mike, not listening to his uncle (good for him), picks Kurt anyway. Kurt is happy and thanks his friend for picking him. Mike gives Kurt a shirt that looks at least a couple sizes too small for him and would be pretty uncomfortable to wear. This isn't Mike's fault, obviously. Kurt politely asks if they had a bigger shirt. Obviously not an unreasonable request. They're playing a sport that requires lots of movement (honestly, pretty much any sport would apply here, except for maybe golf or cricket) so it's understandable to want to at least be comfortable and have room to move around. Frank mocks A LITERAL TEENAGER with the whole "You think you're shopping at Big&Tall?" line and then says that's the only size they had (why couldn't they supply inclusive sizes in the first place, or at least ASK Kurt what his size was IN ADVANCE?), which....umm, I'm actually GLAD plus-size clothing for men (Big&Tall, in this case) is more readily available and accessible now. I'm happy plus-size clothing in GENERAL is like that now.

Mike comforts Kurt and says the shirt might fit. The shirt does KIND OF fit Kurt, but it's obvious he's uncomfortable. Look at this screenshot here:

Frank laughs at Kurt, says he looks like Barney The Dinosaur, and the other kids laugh along with their coach. This is NOT setting a good example for children, Frank. You're a fucking teacher. You're a COACH. You're supposed to be teaching these kids about sports and shit. You're supposed to be setting a good example for these kids about teamwork and sportsmanship. WHAT YOU'RE DOING TO A TEENAGE BOY, WHO IS MOST LIKELY ONE OF YOUR STUDENTS, IS TEACHING NONE OF THOSE THINGS. You're teaching these kids that bullying their peers for things they can't help having is okay. Do better. (I'd say that he's an adult and should act like one, but I'm an adult and I barely act like one a lot of the time, so that'd make me a hypocrite.)

While I may be fortunate to have had a physical education teacher who never bashed on me or shamed me for my weight and she would cheer me on for whatever amount of effort I made the first and only year I had actual P.E., I know that many other kids who are plus-size most likely has/had horrible P.E. teachers or coaches like Frank.

To anyone who has/had a teacher or coach like Frank, I'm so sorry, kiddos. You don't deserve to be bullied by your own teachers. I wish I could give all of you a hug, but I can give y'all virtual hugs instead! *virtual hugs* /p

So they play a game of basketball, and Kurt is struggling to fully play because the shirt he was given was probably cutting off some circulation, especially in his arms (again, do I need to reiterate that this was NOT Mike's fault and is FRANK'S fault for his ignorance and negligence). Frank mocks his nephew Mike by saying that he told him not to pick Kurt. Why? Because according to him, Kurt will never make anything of himself in life due to him being fat. (AGAIN, THIS IS NOT TRUE.)

Then it cuts to Kurt sitting with Mike, who's working on his car and Kurt's working on his own thing. Mike says he believes one day he'll own a nice, brand new Cadillac. Kurt is very supportive and cheers his friend on. He says that he believes he'll be one of the biggest radio show hosts and has a title for it called "Big Boy's Neighborhood". Both of them are hyping each other up. Love to see men supporting men. Mike pulls out his Walkman (they were HUGE back in the 80s and 90s because you could listen to the radio from anywhere, I have a Sony Walkman mp3 player, but it's a newer model), and Kurt says that he's always wanted one but couldn't afford it. (I'll go into why in a second.)

Frank comes over to reprimand Mike, who has done NOTHING WRONG, for talking to Kurt. Instead of working, which Mike WAS actually doing. He tries to tell his uncle this, but he wasn't having it. Frank then reprimands Kurt, who also has done NOTHING WRONG, for just sitting and apparently "distracting Mike" (he wasn't). He asks if there's any work he was supposed to do. Kurt FINALLY stands up to Frank in a polite, mature manner. He says that just because he wasn't working with his hands, it didn't mean he wasn't working. Frank ridicules Kurt some more, Mike tells his uncle to leave his friend alone, and Kurt stands up to Frank AGAIN, still being polite and mature. UNLIKE THE ACTUAL ADULT ACTING LIKE A CLICHÉ MIDDLE SCHOOL BULLY WHO PROBABLY PEAKED IN HIGH SCHOOL. How fucking ironic.

What does Frank do in response to Kurt standing up to him? INSULTS THE KID SOME MORE. He tells Kurt that he must have "pig fat for brains" (which is not only insulting to Kurt, but also insulting to pigs, because pigs are intelligent animals), takes his small bag of Doritos, and says that he "doesn't need to be eating anything." He eats Kurt's Doritos IN FRONT OF HIM, tells Mike to quit letting his friend make him lazy (he wasn't doing that at all), and to get back to work.

THAT line made me livid. I've actually thought that I didn't deserve to eat anything because I'm plus-size as a teenager, and into my adulthood at a few points in my life. NEVER say that someone doesn't need to be eating anything. (Obviously except for poisonous things, inedible objects, and things that could and will kill them.) You could cause them to develop an ED, or trigger an ED if they already have one. THAT'S NOT A GOOD THING. EDs are no joke. Whether it be starving, purging, or binge eating, none of them are fun to have and/or to deal with. Even if they DON'T develop an ED, their relationship with food will be all sorts of fucky-wucky. Some even for the rest of their lives. Unless you get proper treatment, of course.

When Frank leaves, Kurt is obviously upset. Rightfully so. How he's feeling is justified. Mike comforts him and says to not let Frank get to him. Mike offers to take Kurt home, but then realizes that his friend and his mom got evicted and are homeless. (This is why Kurt couldn't afford to buy a Walkman.) Kurt, still distraught, says that he'll just walk. Mike invites him over for dinner and that he'd drop him off after, which Kurt agrees to.

They're at Mike's house, having dinner, and Mike's parents are talking to Kurt. They're being supportive. Frank walks in to have his sister's cooking. He sees that Kurt's there. Mike's parents introduce Frank to Kurt, tells him Kurt's gonna be on the radio one day, Frank laughs and says Kurt's not gonna be anything. Kurt brushes it off. He says that his mom says that he can achieve whatever he wants (which is true, to a reasonable extent), Frank cuts him off and says his mom was lying to him, and that his mom knows he's gonna be a big loser.

Mike's dad tells Frank to leave Kurt alone. Mike's mom also says the same thing. Frank asks Kurt if his mom doesn't feed him at home, and what he was doing "eating up all their food" (he wasn't; he just had a singular plate). Mike and his mom tell Frank to stop. His mom explains that they invited Kurt over for dinner, and she tells her brother to sit down and eat. Frank then asks Kurt again if his mom doesn't feed him at home. Mike tells Frank that Kurt and his mom don't have a home because they just got evicted, which is a shock to the parents. Instead of having sympathy for a teenage boy who was on the streets with his mom, HE MOCKS HIM. WHO THE FUCK DOES THAT? Especially to a teenage boy who didn't do anything whatsoever to deserve being evicted from his home and be out on the streets with his mom. I've dealt with being evicted. I've dealt with homelessness. Out of no fault of my own. It's not funny, cool, glamorous, or anything like that. It's terrifying. I'm still traumatized by that experience and it happened four years ago. Sometimes I have nightmares about that kind of thing. The very possibility of becoming homeless and going through that again scares the shit out of me. The thought of it is so triggering for me that I will resort to reverting back to things I used to do when I was a kid. It also doesn't help that I will NEVER be able to afford an apartment on my own where I live now and will probably have to rely on at least two or three roommates and/or family to get by. Thanks a lot, Boomers.

I would never wish what I went through on anyone. Anyways, back to the whole summary of the video.

Kurt gets up and leaves the table. Mike tries to go after his friend to make sure he was okay, but Frank stops his nephew. ONLY WHEN KURT LEAVES DOES FRANK ALL NONCHALANTLY SAY THAT HE'S STARVING AND THAT THEY SHOULD ALL EAT. Despite Frank making Kurt as well as his (Frank's) own family upset.

Kurt walks to where his mom is. His mom notices that he's upset. Kurt tells his mom that it's because of Frank. His mom comforts him and gives him the advice that she gave him before. Kurt is still obviously too upset to take anything she's telling him, bringing up that they're homeless and broke, and his mom is desperate to help comfort her son. She gives him his birthday present early, which happens to be a Walkman. Kurt is shocked. He thought they didn't have that kind of money. His mom says not to worry about that. She pokes some lighthearted fun at her son, he thanks her, and he asks her a question. He asks if she believes he'll be successful or if she's saying that to make him feel better. She asks if he believes he'll be successful (yep), and he tells her that when he succeeds, he'll buy them a house so they don't have to be homeless anymore or worry about getting evicted.

Fast forward to adulthood, Kurt becomes a bouncer, meets someone who works at a radio station, and he goes there. Just to have people laughing at him. He's distraught again and leaves the station, thinking that he made a bad decision. Frank happens to come by, see that Kurt was upset, and asks what's wrong. Kurt tells him what happened, and Frank mocks him AGAIN with the same shit he told him when he was a TEENAGE BOY, now as a YOUNG ADULT. He walks off, laughing.

Nice going! /s Kicking Kurt while he's down JUST LIKE OLD TIMES, RIGHT? FUCK YOU.

Kurt then decides that he's gonna lose weight and be the best radio show host. (Toxic much? Why would you try to preach that your weight = your worth as a person? If you're losing weight for yourself, great! I'm happy for you! If you don't want to lose weight, you don't give a fuck about what people say, and you're happy in your own skin, that's awesome too! Do it for yourself, not for anyone's approval. Try to love yourself and accept yourself in any form you're in. Don't fall for the bullshit that you have to be a certain size or look a certain way for you to love and accept yourself. The weight may be gone, but the rest of your issues will still be there. I have to clarify that I meant this in GENERAL, not necessarily for extremities on either side of the spectrum of weight...because there are things you MUST follow.)

Kurt gets back to the station, ignores all the people being assholes, he's doing his thing, and he's climbing up.

Fast forward to when Kurt is middle-aged. He has his own radio show, and he's one of the biggest names in the radio industry. After he finishes up his show, he goes outside to see a couple of young fans. A young black girl with her brother, a plus-size boy. They say how much they love his show, they got his merch, and the boy tells Kurt that he wants to be just like him. The boy doubts himself though because of people abusing him JUST LIKE what Kurt went through. Kurt empathizes with the boy and tells him a little bit about his own experience. Following them is Frank as an old man. They're his grandkids.

Frank recognizes Kurt, and actually apologizes to him for the torment he put him through as a teenager. WHAT A SHOCK. /srs

Kurt takes it with grace, but says that he should be thanking Frank for all the torment. Why? Because it "motivated him". The girl says that she loves that. (Okay, since she's a kid and there's still time for her to change her mind about certain things, I'm not going to be as harsh here. I don't bash on the kids unless they're doing or saying extremely fucked up things willingly. She didn't say this with bad intentions. I understand you're coming from a good place, and I appreciate that, but please hear me out. This wasn't at all like dealing with edgy thirteen year olds on the internet. This man you look up to was abused by your grandfather in his youth. Your brother is experiencing that same torment your idol went through...at a younger age too, it seems like. The kid looks no older than middle school age [ten or eleven at the YOUNGEST to maybe thirteen or fourteen at the OLDEST]. That's a huge problem. Kurt may have "toughed it out", but that might not be the case for your brother. Please don't excuse that kind of behavior.)

Dude...what the actual fuck? I can understand not being bothered by the hate, but this grown ass man literally VERBALLY AND EMOTIONALLY ABUSED YOU AS A YOUNG, IMPRESSIONABLE TEENAGE BOY, CONTINUING INTO ADULTHOOD, and you're THANKING Frank for all of that? Why should you thank your abuser for what he put you through? He didn't contribute ANYTHING to your success. So I guess abuse is a GREAT contribution to people's success now, right? /s It doesn't contribute to anything, in my opinion. Yes, what doesn't kill you can make you stronger, but can we normalize people becoming weaker to a point due to traumatic events? Because they exist. Demonizing survivors who have become weaker to some degree or just flat-out ignoring them isn't helping. You did the thing you wanted to do, Kurt. Frank didn't help you. The person who really helped you was YOU and your mom.

MOVING ON.

The boy asks Kurt if he thinks he'll ever be able to make it as a radio show host. Kurt asks if HE believes that. The boy says he does. Kurt gives him some advice and gives the boy his Walkman. The boy's ecstatic, they leave, and Kurt goes to meet up with his mom.

Keeping to his promise, Kurt bought his mom a house so she'd never be homeless again and never have to worry about being evicted. (HOW LONG WAS SHE HOMELESS FOR? OH MY GOD. THAT'S WHAT I WANT TO KNOW. I hope you at least let her stay with you or something. They never went into that, unfortunately.) She's very grateful. The video ends there.

My personal thoughts on the video: Another piss poor video....but worse! Because it was a COLLAB. And based on a true story. Good going with taking this man's story of being abused by a grown adult to exploit for your personal gain, Dhar Mann! WOW. LOVE THAT! Totally a good look. /s

What I took from this video is that if you're plus-size, according to Dhar Mann, you'll apparently NEVER be successful, let alone be taken seriously...which is an absolute lie. There are many plus-size people who are very successful. Another thing I took from the video is that apparently according to Dhar Mann, being verbally and emotionally abused as a teenager by a grown adult all the way into adulthood is "motivation" for you to work harder to reach your goals. (Nice going, Dhar Mann. Justifying grown adults abusing children. Who would've thought? /s)

Oh, and it's like MANDATORY to thank your abusers for tormenting you when you become successful! (Obviously this is an exaggeration. This is me using Dhar Mann's logic against him.) You want to thank them for making you stronger? Fine. You want to spit in their face and say, "Fuck you." to them? Also fine. You want to just never acknowledge them ever again? Totally fine. Whatever you want to do, that's fine by me, but can you not imply that "thanking" your abusers is mandatory in some way?

If you made it this far, thank you! I hope you're having a good morning/day/afternoon/evening/night. Stay safe, y'all. Love you. /p

On Lovecraft Country and the way the narrative presents queerness

"No masters or kings when the ritual begins

There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene

Only then I am human

Only then I am clean"

Hozier, Take Me to Church

oh, boy...

i knew some of these deaths could happen in the finale, but i definetely wasn't prepared for any of this, wow.

i guess that, with the events of the finale, including atticus' death, there really is no point in getting the show renewed for a season 2, as as i hoped and wished before, because all of the conflicts that were set up were resolved. i mean, there's always the possibility of using time-travel to do a retcon and bring all the dead characters back, or, at least, two of the protagonists and the villain, but, maybe it would take too many alterations in the narrative, because it seems like the whole thing was planned for a mini-series.

so, now, all we have left is to do a breakdown of what worked and what didn't in lovecraft country's limited series run.

i think that, overall, the message of black ppl taking back the power of ancestry that was stripped from them by white supremacy and structural racism was well-done, and the symbolism was very well-crafted in the final takedown of the season's main villain, which was a representation of how the racism based on indifference born out of white privilege is almost as bad as the racism based on pure hate and despise, which is a valid message, considering the former is a bystander to the abuses and rise to power of the latter.

although i still find the timing was poorly chosen because, well, as of now, all over the world, it's not white ppl who dub themselves "liberal" or "progressive" and claim themselves to not be racist but refuse to act anti-racist that present an actual threat to our human rights, but literal, actual fascists and neo nazis...there are bigger fish to fry now...

but i digress...

on the final score, i guess that when it comes to queer/LGBTQ+ representation, the show fell actually felt real short for a product that crafted so well the race issues, proving that there is still a lot to go before we get to see intersecting identities being portrayed in media the same compex way they exist in the real world.

no, lovecraft country is not guilty of queerbaiting, unlike some of the same ppl in fandom that are the firsts to either erase the half of a couple that is a BIPOC or to deny a canon cis het biracial ship to hype up a fanon white wlw ship and other problematic stuff plenty of times in LGBTQ+ fandom spaces might say.

but that doesn't mean that the treatment of LGBTQ+ issues was satisfying or can be considered good rep, and it actually repeats some of the same tired tropes about queerness and blackness.

while we can say that the show did a relatively good job with montrose as an individual, the same can't be said of the other characters and the final messages.

like, for example, introducing a trans/non-binary indigenous, the Arawak two-spirt Yahima, only to kill them on the next episode was insensitive, to say the least.

while it's true that misha green apologized for the mistake, and said she and the writers tried to make a point that even oppressed groups are capable of oppression, the final score was that a trans/non-binary character was introduced as a plot-device and brutally murdered before having even a chance to properly develop.

in other words, used as a prop.

in a world in which trans ppl are brutally murdered at alarming rates, and most of the victims are BIPOC trans ppl, that is something that we can't let it slide just because the general message of the show was good for cis het black ppl.

the same can be said on the treatment of sammy in the narrative.

while it's true that montrose being aggressive and acting the way he did, pushing ppl he cared about away and shunning every chance of vulnerability due to internalized homophobia, toxic masculinity and misogyny, as this very interesting critique by amani marie hamed of nerdist pointed out, his characterization nonetheless falls into the same old stereotype in american culture of accusing black ppl of falling behind when it comes to queer acceptance and associating black masculinity with homophobia.

also, the author of the article says it better, but, overall, sammy's existence ends up being just another plot device, serving to say to the audience that the producers and writers know that queer ppl existed in the 50's, but, at the same time, repeating some of the same tropes as usual, like associating being queer with being clandestine and deviant instead of showing it as a natural thing that was perceived as deviant at the time, as we can see by that scene of sammy having a sexual encounter in the alley behind his bar.

the author even mentions that queer ppl overall had houses, and most of the encounters actually happened there, and that scene reinforces the idea that queerness is inherently animalistic.

the article also points out how sammy is mostly there just to be shutted out, first by montrose and latter even atticus, and, ends up being another prop to lift montrose to deuteragonist status, being rejected and abused by montrose solely to highlight tic's father journey with his personal issues that apparently he simply wrapped up in a span of 2 episodes.

the fact that sammy was a also a more feminine gay man, even participating in ball culture as a drag queen, and yet most of his appearences involved him being degraded or shut out or overall mistreated by montrose, even tic, and that scene in which atticus forgives montrose after he revealed he never acted on his homosexuality and cheated on tic's mom, even though it's implied she did cheat on him with his brother george, just reinforces the idea it's ok for black and brown men to be gay, as long as they are not THAT GAY™️.

the introduction of thomas in episode 1x09 only to be murdered in the riots is another example of how queerness seem to come with a price in this show if you act on it.

once again, a gay character was introduced in the narrative to further montrose's pain and trauma.

and his introduction was absolutely not necessary, because being a survivor of a massacre like the tulsa riots and a survivor of parental physical abuse is already was already enough for making tic and the audience begin to emphatize with montrose's pain, there was no need to kill another queer character just for that.

not to say we should agree with everything the nerdist article says, of course.

at times, it felt like the author was saying that addressing these issues in the black community is a problem on itself, and that is definetely not the solution.

but, when we consider the setting of a limited series with a plot-driven approach to the scripts, the way the topic is addressed ends up being superficial and rushed, and what could have been a delicate approach to a complicated man discovering his sexuality if the show was an on-going series, ends up being just a narrative built to put montrose in the spotlight in an attempt of getting a few emmy nominations for outstanding performances, and that's about it.

now, what really serves to cement the LGBTQ+/queer representation in lovecrat country as a disservice is the treatment of ruby, christina and their relationship.

i did a few metas explaining christina's and ruby's characterizations, including one i posted before the finale started explaining why ruby was so important to queer black and feminine-aligned nbs being a dark-skinned fat black queer woman discovering her sexuality and figuring out there was more to life than the social roles that were pushed into her, and how the parallels between her and christina, two different women separated by race and class but with the common feeling of being interrupted by social restraints that binded them, were a way for a character like ruby to be treated by the narrative the same way white women get to be treated in fantasy stories, as someone worthy of being courted and romanced as a light-skinned and thin black woman like her sister leti.

but with that finale, and the way the whole thing played out, with not only christina and ruby dead, but also with christina killing ruby, felt, ironically, like the very same trope that's been the norm for queer characters for a long time.

if we consider the tropes of the genre the show and the source material draw inspiration from, pulp fiction magazines, a medium that was very popular until the rise of the cinema and TV in the 50's and 60's that also served as an inspiration for them, then we know that in this medium some of the harmful tropes about queerness that exist until this day were particularly prevalent, including that of the queercoded villains.

to talk about this, i'm going to refer to this amazing article by tricia ennis on the history of queercoding for syfy wire.

first, a definition:

"queer coding, much as the name suggests, refers to a process by which characters in a piece of fictional media seem — or code — queer. this is usually determined by a series of characteristics that are traditionally associated with queerness, such as more effeminate presentations by male characters or more masculine ones from female characters. these characters seem somehow less than straight, and so we associate those characters with queerness — even if their sexual orientation is never a part of their story."

between the hays code in cinema going from 1934 to 1968, the comics code authority in the comics industry from 1954 to the early 21st century (with dc comics and archie comics being the last to break with it in 2011, mind you), the code of practices for television broadcasting from 1952 to 1983 and its predecessor for radio NAB code of ethics, the authors all over mass media couldn't approach the topic of queerness and portray openly and proud queer characters under the risk of being persecuted by the censors, and so, begin to hide queer chracters under the disguise of subtext.

and given the content creators couldn't show any form of positive queer/LGBTQ+ representation under the risk of being punished by the censors, the alternative they found was to portray the queer characters as the villains or antagonists or degenerates, and punish them with death.

the syfy wire article says it better than i ever could:

"even dangerous LGBTQ tropes rose out of this time period, as the depictions of pulp noir femme fatales and other deadly women rose in popularity. these women were usually written as promiscuous and sexually devious, both with men and sometimes with women. they were also evil and usually met their end as a result of their sins. While depictions of LGBTQ characters were frowned upon, depictions of them in this specifically negative light were not. you were not endorsing an “alternative lifestyle” if your gay characters always met an untimely demise. Instead, they were merely paying for their poor choices. this trope would eventually give way to what we now refer to as 'Bury Your Gays.' "

and the thing is, all those censorship laws are over by now, but the tropes/clichés that arised on that era are still prevalent in pop culture 'till this day, consumed by the audiences and reproduced by content creators, in the industry or in fan spaces, whether they are aware of said trope/clichés or not.

now, that is where ruby, christina and their affair on the show enter.

to explain how problematic and harmful the way these characters have been portrayed is, and what kind of message it sends about black queerness, i first have to explain christina's function on the story.

christina, as a character, was basically the texbook pulp noir femme-fatale, checking most of the boxes of the tv tropes description of the trope, from the "red equals evil and sin" imagery to being a wild card, that character who changes sides according to their own desires and individualistic goals.

in her specific case, helping the white supremacists and the black heroes alike in her pursue for unlimited power to protect herself from the oppression that comes with being a white woman, particularly a wealthy one, in which the very same presumption of innocence that gives them privilege over BIPOC is used to infantilize them and strip them from their agency, putting their bodies and choices under the tutelage of cis het white men.

so, her function on the show was basically to manipulate the characters on the two sides alike.

and that is where the problems in queer representation come in, because, to manipulate them, she acts as a sensual seductress.

and what does the script uses to highlight that this is a character willing to go to the most immoral places to achieve her goals? it makes christina a sexually fluid and gender fluid character.

that is basically playing a move straight from the hays code era.

not only does the show plays christina's sexual and gender fluidity as her being "freaky" and a proof of her deviant nature, but it makes her seduction of ruby as a central part of the scheme that positions her as the main villain of the show.

this portrayal of christina as a textbook femme-fatale with a touch of white feminism is already very problematic on its own, especially when we consider her death and how brutal it was, because, yes, while it's true she is privileged because she is white and wealthy, she is still a woman and a queer one at that, and giving her the same traditional treatment for femme-fatales in pulp fiction ends up reinforcing harmful stereotypes about gender and sexuality.

but, when we consider what it means for ruby as a character, it gets WAY worse.

ruby is a character that's been shown to feel very frustrated about the ways in which societal structures of power interfere in her life, not only on a professional level, but even on a personal level as well, making her feel "interrupted".

dealing with the same issues that all black women and feminine-aligned nbs who don't fit into the eurocentric standards of femininity and of beauty do, and not matching the criteria for being hypersexualized by society as the black women considered conventionally pretty -- with thin bodies like the white women or hourglass body frames, being light-skinned and so on --, ruby has her humanity stripped from her because everyone expects her to be stronger than it's humanly possible.

everyone seems to expect something of her at home, her younger sister took advantage of her money for years, and not only all of her goals in the professional realm seem to be frustrated by social structures of oppression, but even her relationship goals as well, given that most of the men that she gets involved with, whether they are black or white, seem to believe they have the right to abandon her and treat her like trash because she doesn't feel a thing and is "strong" enough.

ruby feels frustrated and tired, and she has every single right to do so, because, as what happens to most black women and feminine-aligned nbs, she is disrespected and disregarded by everyone, white and black alike.

so, when christina comes in with an offer of improving ruby's life with magic, of course she takes the opportunity.

and it seemed like the show was willing to deal with the moral complexities of christina's shapeshifting potion and validating ruby's feelings, or at least, sort of validating.

but, by killing her at the end, it just played out as if ruby's feelings meant she was merely a traitor to the race, and not a woman who was tired of feeling frustrated with all of these impossible obstacles society sets for black women and feminine-aligned nbs, especially dark-skinned and fat ones like her, and justified in her anger and frustration.

she did everything right and accomplished nothing, and, when she finally decided to rebel and focus on herself for a change, she met her demise.

but that is just the tip of iceberg, really.

what makes this situation with ruby so frustrating is the fact that, when the show presented christina's queerness as another sign she was "on the wrong side of the tracks" and a villian that should be defeated by the black heroes, which consist in a family, the narrative is implying that a person has to choose between their queerness, on one side, and their blackness and community on the other.

of course, one might argue that the fact montrose was turned into a gay man himself in the adaptation prevents this from happening. but, when we consider montrose was forgiven by tic only after reinforcing he never did cheated on dora and acted on his queerness and lived his gayness, when he really had every single right to do so, especially because it's implied dora slept with his brother george and the three of them knew she was just montrose's beard, then we have the message that it's ok to be queer as long as you don't act on your queerness at all.

there is a part in the review for nerdist that i mentioned above, in which the author says that one of the book's best qualities was that "the source material also illustrates the importance of family and community ties between Black protagonists", and that the TV show ruins it when it "introduces abuse, alcoholism, and family dysfunction, and strips Black characters of their own magic."

that is a part of the article, published in october 14 2020, that now no longer makes sense after the finale, because that message is there.

but, the actual problem is that the ideas of family and community shouldn't be taken for granted bc they are always under political dispute, and are oftenly used to reinforce backward messages when it comes to gender and sexuality, serving as a tool for the control of the bodies and authonomy of ppl of various marginalized groups and intersecctions, including women, BIPOC and queer ppl alike.

while these things are not inherently good or bad, and they are also part of the culture and identity for plenty of BIPOC ethnical identities, the concepts of family and community are usually weaponized by conservatives and used to justify things like queerphobia and the restrictions over reproductive rights.

queer ppl in all walks of life and skin colors all over the world have to deal with plenty of conflicts about coming out because, by deciding to live their own truth, they can never know for sure whether coming out will put them at odds with their families and community until they dare to do so.

so, ruby's dillemma for not knowing what to choose, her family or a life with christina, plays out as the type of experience queer ppl have to deal on a daily basis, and when we consider the intersection with race/ethnicity, it gets even more cruel because our gender identities and sexual/romantic/aesthetic orientations, that are natural parts of us, make us being invisibilized and silenced in our own cultures and feel like we have to give up on our own communities in order to be able to live our queerness.

there are few things more gut-wrenching than that feeling of fear that you might be disowned by your family and relatives and your community -- whether is it a neighbourhood, a village, a small town etc -- because a part of yourself is considered at odds with your heritage.

and when we consider all the christian imagery in the show, the final result is a really troubling one.

while it's true that being christian and believing in god doesn't authomatically makes anyone a bigot (i actually still retain some of the beliefs i was raised into as a catholic latin-american), it's also true that now, more than ever, we can't ignore science, including history.

the entire way in which they referred to magic as a devil's work was very troubling and evocates the same discriminative rethoric that white european colonizers used to justify the destruction of the ancient old religions and beliefs of BIPOC in their own homeland, the ancient culture of our ancestors, and also the oppression of peasant women in europe.

while we can't generalize, given each culture had its own particularities, there's an agreement in the scientific community that, overall, the cultures of the first nations and indigenous folks from the american continent, the african continent, the asian continent and oceania/pacific islands were far more accepting of different manifestations of queerness.

that means that queerphobia was part of the colonial project, once the traditional family values of christianity were used as a tool for the white colonizers to regulate the bodies and sexuality of the colonized and keep them under control.

and that is why the association of these ideals of family and community as inherent to blackness ends up being problematic, because we can't discuss racism without discussing colonization, and we can't discuss colonization without considering the ways in which queerphobia and religion were used as tools of colonial oppression.

the worst part is that, when it comes to ruby, the producers and writers really didn't need to do kill her at all.

and while the show did right in not showing how christina killed ruby, sparing the audience from watching another black body being brutalized, it's also true they didn't have to kill the character to get her out of the way from the final confrontation between christina and tic's family.

they literally went and changed her background from her book counterpart and made the woman a musician, and a blueswoman at that.

all they needed was to have her share a goodbye scene with christina the same way she had with leti, saying that she wanted to be with christina but couldn't fight her family and friends like that, grab a copy from the safe travel negro guide and set off in a bus to travel all over the U.S., singing very sad blues songs about falling in love with a white devil once.

that's all the producers and writers needed, to use the "sent in a bus" trope.

but the choice was to portray ruby as a character facing the consequences of following her desires , which ends up feeling like a punishment for a dark-skinned and fat queer black woman for daring to question the position society has placed her because of who she is.

this is in no way an attempt to "cancel" the producers or the writers, because a) their work is still important as a team of mostly black creators and b) canceling doesn't seem to have significant consequences, and seems to lead only to more social media wars than anything else.

but now that it finally seems diversity is getting more space in media, this type of discussion gets more important.

there is a slow increase on more representation of queer/LGBTQ+ characters in media and more productions involving queer/LGBTQ+ creatives, but, most of the time, the characters and are white, or, when there are biracial couples, the characters of color are just token minorities, and the same happens with the creatives involved in the production.

there is a slow increase in BIPOC characters representation in media and more productions involving BIPOC as creatives, but, most of the time, the characters are cis heterosexual, and the same happens with the creatives involved in the production.

but, for pop culture and media to be truly diverse, there has to be more space for the narratives of ppl that exist and belong to the two groups to raise our voices and be heard, whether is it in the entertainment industry, society at large or even in fandom spaces.

because she shouldn't be forced to pick between one identity over the other.

our existences shouldn't be interrupted just because society doesn't know how to deal with them.

and if that make us sinners, then so be it.

Globalized Fetish: BNWO By Skiddely

Globalized Fetish: BNWO 

By Skiddely 

Submitted: January 18, 2020 Updated: January 18, 2020 

The story nobody waited for. Stories about the BNWO. If you dont know what that means, dont read it. Seriously. Features a ton of interracial, black supremacy, BLACKED, etc. 

Provided by Hentai Foundry.  

Chapter 0 - Introduction 2 

Chapter 1 - A whitebois life 6 

Chapter 2 - Education in the BNWO 9 

Chapter 3 - Tattoos and their meaning 13 

0 - Introduction 

Thing have changed in the past few years. With the rise of CRISPR/Cas genetic modification of the human race has become commonplace, designer babies, the eye or hair colour, the sizes, Intelligence and even skin colour. Things went normal for a while, single mothers and white couples everywhere would get their perfect aryan children, most of them girls of course. With the rise of estrogen filled products most white males had gone the way of their women, becoming more girly both physical aswell as mentally, which made them more susceptible to their wives or girlfriends wishes. Back in the day, no virile man would ever WANT a daughter, but like I said, things changed. So now there’s a whole bunch of young aryan supergirls making their way into the world, the pussy economy has changed. For every male there’s about 10 girls, each smarter and better looking than the last. Even the parents that decided to go against the grain, that decided not to pursue the aryan standard of beauty, still have beautiful daughters. Red hair, brown hair, black hair, regardless of their race, they’d be the equivalent of supermodels back in the day. 

Things were good for men during those days. Or rather they would have been good, if there were still enough real men to enjoy these pleasures. The effects of soy products really changed the physiology of white men. Further and further they devolved, slowly turning more feminine with every impossible whopper consumed. Erectile disfunction, development of breasts, shifts in voice pitch and more feminine features made them diverge more and more from the beauty standard of the strong, tall intelligent loverboy. Things looked grim for a while as less and less white couples had children, with the women desperate for sexual relief and the men unable to provide it, usually preferring to be penetrated themselves, rather than to engage in sexual intercourse themselves. Already declining birthrates plummeted even further, up to a point where the original white race was heading for extinction quickly. The solution to these would be found in unexpected places. Due to purely socio-economic reasons, the urban population of America and Africa were exempt from the privilege of gene therapy and the damning results of soy products. In the beginning it was still a controversial topic, hushed voices in yoga class talking about their limpdicked white boyfriends while rumors about virile black men with large cocks made their way around. Before too long, the bravest white girls made their way into the ghetto’s of America, trying their best to find the cock they’re really craving. These adventurous few found exactly what they were looking for, well hung black men ready to ravage any hole that was presented to them. Savage and rough gang bang sessions were common for the first few girls, each of them getting fucked by a whole gang of black thugs, confined to their cribs until they were pregnant. This kind of relentless fucking which was akin to those of rabbits quickly gave these women a new nickname. The birth of snowbunnies is still celebrated as a holiday everywhere. 

Eventually most of these pregnant white women would make their way back to civilization, bringing with them news of the incredible mind blowing sex they found in the ghetto. What started slow, quickly turned into a mass exodus of white women. All of them flocking to the darkest parts of the country, leaving their faggy whiteboys alone at home. What came to no surprise to anyone was the fact that even the ghetto’s would be unable to supply enough black dick to these eager snowbunnies, leaving most of them unsatisfied simply because it was logistically not possible TO satisfy them. A solution had to be found. 

It was clear that black cock was the answer to their problems. Black men proved to be stronger, bigger and simply better lovers, their big black cocks being the only thing that would be able to satisfy a modern white woman. But what to do when there’s simply not enough cocks going around? A thinktank was established to find a solution to these problems. With several thousand snowbunnies already pregnant with black children it was clear that the next generation of black cock was already secure, but the bunnies wouldn’t be able to wait this long. The first attempt was atleast a partial success. The sex toy adapted to the new demands of single white girls by establishing the new norm for dildos, vibrators and other toys. Big black dildos became the biggest seller in the adult industry, each of them sporting a minimum length of 9’ making them as close to the real thing as possible. Bigger versions of black dick were also quite popular, with many white women permanently ruining their holes with these large toys, stretching themselves out to the max, limiting their pleasure to only their toys and the largest of black men out there. This shift in the industry served to atleast somewhat satisfy the demands of the snowbunnies out there. It didn’t do the same for the white “men” left out there however, as those few that still retained their ability to achieve and erection would find themselves unable to pleasure even the smallest of white girls out there. These dejected individuals had to cope with the fact that they were not desirable anymore. Many of them eventually found solace in the same toys as their women. Unable to achieve an erection, they usually resorted to anal stimulation in the vain attempt of spurting out their impotent cockjuice. At this point in time, same-race-sex or SRS had become an extreme rarity, most women starting to consider it to be a weird fetish reserved for the outcasts of society. 

While this change proved to be a good start, it wouldn’t be enough for most bunnies out there. They were naturally craving the real thing, which at this point was still considered to be somewhat of a rarity. This gave the porn industry a clever idea. If they cant go out and get the real thing, just give them the real thing back home. The already dwindling genre of SRS would quickly be replaced solely by interracial sex. White women serving black kings in high definition, sucking and fucking on camera for the entire world to see. BLACKED and BLACKEDRAW became names known to every household in the country. Big muscly black men using their fat uncut cocks to breed fertile white pussy would prove to be the most important media of the time, replacing even daytime TV with a ceaseless barrage of professionally made interracial porn. In many ways this new type of entertainment shaped the people, normalizing the worship of black men, creating a new religion of black cock. New shows would air to great acclaim, showing how to best please and keep your black master, displaying how to best rim black assholes, how to maximize the chances of pregnancy and how to properly emasculate your tiny dicked white friends. 

Of course this didn’t just change the life of white women. The minority of white boys would find themselves face to face with unending propaganda displaying their inferiority, aswell as the superiority of the black man. Their minds already closer to those of real women, they quickly accepted this truth for themselves. This however created a new problem, as feminine small dicked white boys would now also be on the hunt for real black cock. A real solution had to be found. And find one they did. All across the country the think tank established new centers for population control. Colloquially only known as “breeding centers”, these places would house thousands of white women interested in getting black bred. Any black man visiting these centers would be provided with as much fertile white pussy as they wanted, aswell as financial compensation for their time. To mark a snowbunny as a member of these high sought after centers, they were provided with a complementary tattoo. A black spade with a centralized Q would mark them as a Queen of Spades, a woman who had dedicated her life to black men. 

These breeding centers proved to be highly effective. More and more white women would find themselves impregnated with a black baby and through the power of gene manipulation, they would find themselves with the highest certainty that their children would be even bigger and stronger than their black fathers. A new generation of big black cock was in the making. Each impregnated woman would receive a spade womb tattoo, signifying to their peers that she did her part. These tattoos would end up being one of the greatest cultural heritages of the times, but we’ll come to that. 

With a new generation of black Kings ready to pop out, the think tank found themselves cornered with a new problem. They would run out of snowbunnies before too long. As it turns out, black seed has such strength and potency, that it was nearly impossible, even with advanced gene therapy, to create more white babies. This was a great problem, seeing as how the few white men still around had become cock sucking sissies worshipping black cock. Once again a solution had to be found. And they did, as ugly as it was, they did find a solution. It was an ugly solution of course, but to get the bunnies, you first have to extract the snow. It was hard to find still find white boys with proper swimmers in those days. Most of them had accepted their inferiority and surrendered to black cock like their women did. Their already reduced sperm count further diminished by their limp dicks, they proved to be useless for anything other than being a cocksleeve for a black master. It took quite some time, but eventually a few whiteboys were found that could still supply the sperm needed to continue the white race. Now it was without question that no snowbunny should ever be forced to actually have sex with their small white weenies, which meant other ways of extraction had to be found. Luckily the experience gained by the breeding centers would prove to be beneficial in solving this problem. 

In these new breeding centers, the white boys were restrained similar to livestock. They were raised, fed and cleaned by their handlers, snowbunnies specifically selected for this task based on their motherly demeaner and simultaneous disdain for their own race. Initially, the whiteboys were milked for their semen by hand, their keepers using their delicate fingers to milk it from their prostate gland. Of course no white woman was ever forced to touch a tiny white dicklet, it would’ve been too insulting, even with properly insulated gloves. However this meant that the slow and methodical milking of the prostate was the only way to gain the whiteboy sperm. With time passed, each milkmaid found their own way to accelerate the process, whether its by stimulating the nipples, stimulating the penis through the urethra with a steel sounding device, or even just by stimulating his insides by inserting her entire arm into his butt, each maid got more efficient by the day. 

All in all it was still a slow process, but the continuous existence of the snowbunnies was guaranteed through the sacrifices of the milkmaids. A special tattoo was created, the spade with a single sperm in the middle signifies their dedication and sacrifice for their black masters. Of course these genuine milkmaids are quite rare nowadays. With the advent of new milking technology the profession lost its necessity for the most part. Of course modern day breeding centers are somewhat different. Restrained whiteboys are now being automatically milked without additional human help. The automatic pistoning prostate stimulator isn’t quite as delicate as a womans fingers, but it does the job and so does the extra small penis suction cup, designed to slurp up all watery semen squirted out by the restrained whiteboys. Anyways, like I said, the problems that were presented had been solved. With snowbunnies supplying an endless supply of superior black men and whiteboys supplying the snowbunnies to serve them, society has changed. 

The balance of power has changed. The time has come for a new world order. A Black New World Order. 

1 - A whitebois life 

The life of a whiteboy is dictated by their black masters and their snowbunny whores. With new laws in place, a whiteboys life has changed considerably. For one, the display of white penises without good reason is considered to be a crime. Furthermore it’s a criminal offense for a white boy to walk around without their tiny cock in chastity and their butthole plugged. The basic role of every whiteboy is to be a servant Afterall. This includes serving their owners during sex, filming it, prepping her black master and cleaning both of them up after they’re done. Lets just take a quick moment to try and immerse ourselves in the life of a whiteboy. As you wake up in the morning, your first thought will be about black cock, the same thing you thought about before going to bed and the same thing you dreamt about as you were sleeping. With your tiny clit locked in a cage, an orgasm is out of the question of course, but you still dream about it. The buttplug stretching your once tight asshole reminds you of a possible black cock as your reward for good work, so you quickly put on your uniform, the miniskirt, kneesocks and shirt that designate you as a sissy whiteboy slave. Your beta of spades tattoo is always visible of course, just as the law dictates. With that done, you make your way to their bedroom just in time, you have to make sure that he begins his day with a good morning blowjob afterall. It took quite some time, but after enough training and painful stretching of your jaw, you finally managed to properly take his whole cockhead into your mouth. Of course that’s still nothing compared to a true snowbunny slut, but it’s a start! 

As you slowly get him hard with your wet, slimy mouth, your mistress begins to wake up, rubbing her pussy to the sight of your head bobbing up and down on his cock. Of course a black king wouldn’t just be satisfied with that, both of you know. With one hand still on her slit, she quickly crawls behind him, ready to give herself an early morning tongue workout. First she plants kisses all around the rim of his asshole, one wet sloppy kiss after the other until she’s circled all round it twice, leaving smears of lipstick all over his ass. It doesn’t take long for him to get even harder with her tongue slowly starting to penetrate his asshole, past the his sphincter, deeper and deeper inside. Round and round her tongue goes, coating the inside of his asshole with her spit. Rubbing herself to her first orgasm of the day, she quickly switches positions with you, forcing your face under his ass as she begins to give his balls a tonguebath. With both his asshole, cock and balls covered in shiny spitlube, she’s ready to properly serve him. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he throws her on her back, spreading her legs apart. His fat black cock looks way too big to ever fit inside of her, but he obviously doesn’t care. As an alpha male, her pussy is his to take. And so he does. In one smooth stroke he forces his entire length and girth into her tight white slit, her eyes rolling in the back of her head as a low guttery moan escapes her throat. As he picks up his speed, you can only try to hold onto him as you slither your tongue as deep as possible into his black ass. With your lips you create an airtight seal around his dark asshole, desperately running your tongue around inside of his rectum, hoping to be a good little whiteboi to your black master. But neither of them really pay any attention to you. You might aswell not exist in their world, neither one of them wasting a single thought on you as they have the raw animalistic sex you’ll never get to experience. All you get is the taste of his ass and the sound of his fat black cock ravaging her tight white pussy. His BBC invading her insides, roughly forcing its way deep inside of her, knocking on her cervix over and over again. With each thrust she gets tighter, gripping his cock with her vaginal walls as it pulls out. 

His big dark hands move from her waist up her body, one gripping the blonde ponytail she always rocks when she goes to sleep, the other gripping tightly around her throat. With her hair as his reins he rides her, pulling her head back, arching her back., each of his thrusts creating a bulge of his fat black cock imprinted on her lithe stomach. Her air begins to run out, hypoxia further amplifying the pleasure of his cock dividing her pussy, ramming it deep inside of her over and over again, claiming her entire being as his own. A powerful orgasm rolls over her, her brain sending electricity through her body, confusing its need for air with the pleasure of his cock. Her entire body tenses, pussy clenching down even harder on his cock, forcing him to use even more force to pull back while her walls are latching onto him. Brain shattering orgasm after orgasm rolls over her until her she goes limp, her body giving out from the lack of blood entering her brain. Another few thrusts into her unconscious body do the trick and his thick nigger seed paints her entire womb, once again proving him to be the master over her body and soul. His hips buck again and again, making it hard to keep latched onto his asshole, but as a veteran sissy of spades you keep a firm hold onto his asshole with your mouth. Having done his duty, he lets go of her throat. As blood rushes back into her brain she regains consciousness, completely cockdrunk from his meaty black member. With her out of order it falls to you to clean his cum and her juices of his BBC. Reluctantly detaching your mouth from his asshole you turn your attention towards his cock again. Finally you get your real reward. You decide to indulge yourself a little and start with his fat salty nuts, still glistening with her spit. You circle both of them with your tongue, before taking each one into your mouth individually, bathing them in the warmth of your mouth and once again giving it a deep tongue cleaning. You take a deep breath through your nose, really taking in the musky smell of his cock and balls. The kind of manly smell that makes snowbunnies wet and little sissy whiteboys drool with their mouth and clitty cocks. 

With his balls properly serviced you run your tongue along the length of his shaft to get the pure taste of their combined juices. You swirls them around in your mouth, your own spit mixed with hers, his cum and her pussy juices, all of them combining to create a divine taste in your mouth any sissy would kill for. Satisfied with the taste you gulp the slimy mix down. Again you take his cock into your mouth, bobing up and down on it to make sure you get it clean as well as you possibly can. With your vacuum like mouth you cheekily suck on his urethra, getting another reward as you suck out the few remains of his semen out of his pisshole. Cleaned good and proper, he leaves for the shower, leaving the both of you behind in bed. Her pussy is now oozing cum and you have to do everything in your power to keep yourself from sucking it out of her used gaping pussy. Sure, cleaning up her creampies is your job, but they’re aiming for another black baby in the moment! You have to make sure that as much semen stays in her pussy as possible, the strongest swimmer has to make it in the end, the strongest obviously being the seed for a strong black male baby and you cant just let a little detail like him pulling out lower the chances of her being bred properly. Quickly you scoop up as much leaking semen and shove it back in her gaping hole. You take another one of those adhesive tapes designed to properly seal her pussy and seal it up completely, leaving no way for the semen to escape. You decide its best to let her sleep out her cockdrunk high. Getting back to your room to change into your slutty maid uniform. Its time for your daily chores after all. Once again you thank your black masters for letting you be a house sissy and not one of those white workslaves they keep locked away, not even getting to see a single white woman get black in their entire lives! 

The thought of such horrifying imagery spurns you on as you clean the house, prepare breakfast, stretch your anus some more so it might one day fit his cock and buy some groceries. 

2 - Education in the BNWO 

Education in the New World is of huge importance. Not only does it teach science, philosophy, music and art to the people, it also teaches them the natural order and responsibility of Black Masters, Snowbunnies and white betas. Early on in life is when the future of every person is decided. Trough the magic of gene therapy, the average IQ has seen a dramatic increase, with each generation already being more intelligent than the one before. Due to this, essentially any person alive today is much too intelligent to actually do unskilled, blue collar work, which raises the question of who exactly is going to be responsible for the work no one wants to do, but still has to be done? Well the answer is fairly simple and didn’t take the thinktank very long to answer. White betas would be required to do the heavy lifting in society. Being the shrimp dick impotent losers they are, they’re required to keep society running, while their black masters are busy breeding fertile, young, white pussy to ensure the survival of humanity. Where limpdick whitebois provide the labour, black kings provide the BBC to keep the country afloat. However there’s still more work to be done. How do you decide which whitebois scrub toilets, clean the streets and your car, which betas go into higher education to make sure snowbunny wombs stay fertile, PAWG pussy stays wet and who pays for the orphanages of white babies? And how do you decide which lucky sissy gets to live the dream life of servicing their black king and white mistress? 

All of these questions are answered in school, through the usage of the new curriculum introduced to enforce the rules of our new society. To make life easier, a caste system was introduced into every school, a system which carries over to the rest of the country. For one, we have the Black men. In school, just like in real life, each black man is a King in his own right. They make up the fewest students, but also make up the highest caste in the system. A Black King gets to essentially do whatever he wants. They’re allowed to come and go as they please, if they wanted to, they wouldn’t have to attend at all, as school is not compulsory for the upper caste. Furthermore they’re allowed to take whatever they want, whenever they want. Members of the lower castes, snowbunnies in training, teachers and at the very bottom of the caste, the beta sissies, are all subject to the BLACK caste. No white cattle is allowed to ever deny the orders of a black king unless it were to interfere with the interest of another member of the highest caste. Aside from that however, anything goes, which means its not unusual to walk into a classroom where a teaching PAWG tries to explain the anatomy and inherent superior of black cock to a class that is mostly busy pleasing their masters, two white bitches sucking black testicles, warming them up, cleaning them with their tongues, while another worships the fat anaconda infront of her face, choking herself on it until her mascara runs down her face and his cum completely coats her, truly enjoying the blessed facial of black semen painting her pale face. Usually at least one other whore, be they sissy or bunny, is busying themselves with an enthusiastic rimjob, tongue slobbering all over his black ass, tongue trying to stimulate his prostate for his amusement. 

With 4-5 black men in one class, this could mean that there’s simply no one left to pay attention to the lesson. This brings us to the next caste, which strictly speaking, cant be counted towards the student caste. The teachers in the new education system are usually the most experienced PAWGs. The ones that have 

taken more black dick than anyone, who have chosen to preach the gospel of BBC to the new generation. These beautiful snowbunnies are quite often pregnant with another black baby, or are simply recovering from another one of countless pregnancies, but already eager for another black bun in the oven. Like I mentioned before, despite being teacherbunnies, they are still subject to the whims of their superiors, which makes a live demonstration of advanced spitroasting a common occurrence in modern schools. In fact, most of the curriculum was taken over by sex education or biology, but that’s something we’ll get into a bit later. The next caste are the future snowbunnies, the snowbunnies in training. All fertile white girls fall into this category. It is the responsibility of every school and every teacher to make sure to instill the values of our new society into these impressionable young minds. All apprentice snowbunnies are taught about the inherent superior of black men and their big black cocks, their superior sperm count and impregnation rates of almost 100%, all the while contrasting these lessons with pictures of small uncaged white weenies. Any snowbunny must come to understand and revile a tiny white cock and that “white masculinity” an oxymoron in truth, was natures mistake. They will eventually come to understand that their tiny clitties aren’t real cocks, that they are simply snowbunnies stuck in the wrong body, destined to serve them and their black gods. School is also where they receive their first tattoos, a black vine without leaves around their throat, running down their arm or down their thigh. As anyone knows, this is an indicator of how many black men they have had sex with, with the receiving of their first leaf indicating their progress into adulthood. To facilitate their position above the white sissies, they are also given a certain degree of freedom in terms of clothing. White a black satin choker with a Queen of Spades pendant is mandatory for all females, they are free to choose from numerous different outfits, ranging from thongs and see-through panties to a fancy garterbelt combination. They are allowed to wear short shorts, boyshorts, miniskirts, revealing dresses and tanktops leaving their belly free to be seen. All this freedom is of course provided to ensure that they are as attractive as possible for their black superiors. 

Last, and most certainly least, are the betas of spades, the sissies, the beta whitebois. These unfortunate creatures are further separated into three castes. Like I said earlier, we have the working class that is further divided into blue and white collar work. These unlucky ones are the worst and best the academy has to offer from a scientific point of view. While the dumbest of them go into menial labor, slaving away with their only reprise being free interracial pornography and access to black dildos, the smartest go into leadership positions, they become scientists and doctors. These are slightly more lucky, being allowed the freedom to watch livestreams of real white women getting BLACKED. Truly the most unfortunate would be the blue collared slaves that have to work around snowbunnies however. Even with their chastity cages on permanently, one can not guarantee the safety of a snowbunny when she is around one of these beta males. Being weak and sissified losers, they’re hardly a threat, but the trauma of being touched by a whiteboi who isn’t their personal creampie cleaning maid? That’s something that no snowbunny should have to experience. Which is why these unfortunates have to be treated differently than the others. Before they are allowed to take up their work for the first time, they’ll be castrated by a qualified nurse or other healthcare provider, all of them being white women who simply want to make the world a better, a safer place. That leaves us with the last third of them. During their entire scholastic career, the whitebois have to take numerous exams, both written aswell as oral. That you can take quite literally, as these exams are atleast partially about how good they are at giving head, eating pussy, rimming black assholes, etc. Only those whitebois that achieve the highest grades at these exams and show the highest affinity for subservience and servitude get to become actual house servants, maids and sissies of spades. Caste wise these would rank below a snowbunny, but above the other whitebois. Truly these are the most 

lucky and usually happiest of whitebois, as they get to experience their white goddess being black bred live and they may even participate in their savage love making by prepping her black master or licking both of them clean of their juices after the act. Now that we got that out of the way, you might ask yourself just what exactly do they actually teach at these schools? 

Well like I said before, there are extensive lessons on biology, especially human sexual physiology. The first lesson any white bitches need to learn is the anatomy of their bull, since only those that understand the anatomy will be able to please them properly. During these early anatomy lessons they go in-depth on why exactly the BBC is able to please tight white pussies, it explains the superiority of the uncut veiny black penis, the intoxicating smell of their fat black nuts and the pheromones excreted, especially when a white nose is nestled deeply in his nutsack between his testicles. Of course they also go in-depth on the superior length and girth of the black monster penis which is able to stretch out any small bitch pussy while reaching all the pleasurable spots in a snowbunnies vagina. Due to these black kings being uncircumcised, they also teach them to properly clean underneath his foreskin with their tongues, an ability which any white whore needs to learn quickly to survive and please in this new world. Once they understood that the BBC is considered the gold standard, they’d of course have to learn what they could compare it to. This lessons is the most uncomfortable for any white girl, as they now have to see pictures of tiny white penises to understand their inherent inferiority. Of course the teachers use this occasion to provide live examples on these comparisons, putting up black students against white betas and comparing their length and girth. In the case of black students, the teachers prep them with their mouth, getting them wet and fully erect, spit glistening on their massive lengths. The whiteboi on the other hand only gets to receive a handjob between thumb and index finger. For this uncomfortable and quite disgusting procedure, the teacher of course resorts to using thick black latex gloves. With both of them erect, the teacher measures their lengths, elaborating on the inferiority of the small white penis and explaining why such a little shrimp would never be able to satisfy any woman. 

The following lessons on anatomy would be about Semen. During these lessons, the teachers would explain what makes black cum so superior, talking about the viscosity, consistency and sheer volume of semen produced by black men, while comparing it to the tiny watery load of impotent swimmers a white boy could still produce. Taste testing during these lessons is of course a mandatory experience for snowbunnies and betas so they better understand the delicious smell, taste and thick consistency of black cum. These lessons usually end with the teacher displaying her amazing ability of swallowing multiple loads of black seed collected on scene from her students. The last set of the early anatomy lessons are of course about black breeding. Of course it is always up to the black man to decide when and where he cums, however these lessons should instill upon these students the importance of getting their white pussies bred by black cum, especially when they’re ovulating. In depth the teacher goes on about the relationship of miss uterus and mister BBC who gets to knock Miss uterus’ cervix over and over until his semen thugs come in, bend her over and rape the fuck out of her precious tiny egg cells until miss uterus is left with a black baby. To drive this point home, these lessons are usually presented by an already heavily pregnant teacher, just so the snowbunnies know what they could look forward to (and the sissies know what they’re missing). 

With the basics of anatomy out of the way, the time comes to put theory into practice. At this point, the class gets split, with the black guys and snowbunnies getting the chance to try black breeding themselves in specially prepared breeding rooms, stocked with everything they would ever need for a 24/7 fuck sessions, while the whitebois are left in the classroom. This time is used to introduce the 

concept of chastity cages to these betas. Using specially made metal instruments, the penis length and girth, aswell as the thickness of the urethra of every bitchboi is measured. Of course the teachers are wearing protective gear during these lessons, so none of them accidentally come into contact with one of these whitebois filthy shrimpdicks. With the measurements completed, the cages are prepared individually for each whiteboys. These are usually the same cages they wear till the day they die. Due to the integrated urethral plugs, these cages are impossible to be removed, unless the person has the proper key. Once each whiteboi is equipped with the proper cage, they are then forced to begin their grueling anal training, each of them having to start stretching their buttholes with progressively sized buttplugs. This training would continue for their entire school time. 

These would be the most important lessons for the students. Of course there are other topics to be talked about, for example the existence of melanin receptors in a snowbunnies vagina, created using gene therapy as a means to keep even the most deviant of women from debasing herself enough to actually think about having sex with a whiteboi. Or tattoo class, where the significance of each different tattoo is elaborated upon. 

But these are topics for another time. 

3 - Tattoos and their meaning 

Back in the day, when interracial relationships were, for the most part, just deep dark fantasies lodged in the heads of every white girl out there. Only few of them ever got to experience the undeniable, raw sexual power of a big black cock, with most white girls being oppressed by their white fathers, brothers and husbands, all of them desperately trying to keep them from finding out the truth. 

BBC is just better. 

But like I said, every story has its heroes. Brave women that stood up against the dictatorship of limp dicked whitebois, unable to please any snowbunny with their inferior shrimpdicks. Naturally these fighters for sexual freedom would find themselves being bred by superior black men. Having experienced the mind blowing, gut rearranging, orgasmic power of black dick, these women would dedicate themselves wholy to the cause of teaching the world the pleasures of nigger cocks. To ensure that black kings could recognize these women with one glance, they created a symbol that acted as an identification for their lovers and a shield from whitebois. The black spade with a centered Q became a symbol of their resistance. In the form of a tattoo they were applied to an easily viewable area, such as the neck, ankle, collar bone or in the most daring and rebellious of them, the face. Some of these newly dubbed “Queens of Spades” opted instead for temporary tattoos, for the times where they were on the prowl for another BBC to suck of black asshole rim. At any other time they could simply remove these tattoos, blending into the white society, ready to stealthily convert many more women and girls to the amazing cause of black superiority. These brave young women paved the way for the tattoo code enacted and elaborated on in the last decade. 

Taking inspiration from these women, our great thinktank invented the standardized tattoo code we all know today. First was of course the classic “Queen of Spades” design which has hardly seen any change in its design in the last few years. This classic is usually the second tattoo a white girl receives, only predated by the black vines, and denotes their coming of age, completely leaving behind any shred of a life not dedicate do servicing black cock. A different variation of this classic is applied to sissy whitebois who have dedicated themselves to pleasuring their black masters. The “sissy” or “beta of spades” tattoo is a declaration of their surrender before superior BBC. But lets get back to the start, not historically speaking, but rather the start of any white girls career as a black cocksleeve. The first tattoo they receive is of course the classic black vine without leaves. This tattoo is usually applied to the upper arm, thigh, throat, over their chest, around their breast or navel, anywhere really. Truly a versatile mark. In the beginning the vine is completely bare, that is until a woman gets penetrated by BBC for the first time. For each black cock taken, anally or vaginally, another leave on the vine is added. Its important to note here, that each leaf means a different partner. Multiple relations with the same partner does not add more leaves to the vine. This of course encourages the spirit of competition, each girl fighting the other to be THE superior snowbunny. Of course for most white women this sort of competitive spirit is dampened when they find the right partner, or partners, however there are plenty women out there adding new leaves each day. In some cases this leads to tattoos so elaborate, that the white skin underneath can hardly be seen anymore, covered by all the fat black cock she has taken in her life. 

Moving on. You probably already wondered what exactly a snowbunny is. Well some people consider it just another word for your average white woman, drunk on black cock, mother to several black children and pregnant with another one. But you’d be mistaken. A snowbunny used to be something a bit more special. What sets a snowbunny apart from any other white woman is their sexual appetite and ferocity. Where a regular woman would be content to be ravaged once or twice a day, a snowbunny needs more. These nymphomaniacs are completely addicted to nigger cock, craving it every second of the day. Their minds are completely focused on getting black bred, constantly thinking of the next gang of black thugs that can rearrange her guts with their massive slabs of dark meat. Essentially, these are the elite version of the average white woman. Or at least they used to be. Nowadays with gene therapy and artificially inflated sexual hunger, its rarer to find a woman that doesn’t qualify to be a real snowbunny. Back in the day the snowbunny tattoo, the regular black spade with a cute bunny in the middle, used to be a sign of respect. Or at least a great lay for black kings. Nowadays most women qualify for this tattoo and quite a few of them do get it, even if it doesn’t have the same societal influence as it once had. 

Now black ownership comes in many different forms. In a sense, all white women in modern society are black owned as designated by the law, but also of their own volition. Because which white bitch could ever resist the temptation of 20 inches of dark chocolate? Semantics aside, black ownership is a definetly a thing as you know. What used to be called “marriage” back in the day is now black ownership. And what better way to celebrate than the beautiful gift of a new black tattoo on pale white skin? Black ownership tattoos come in many different shapes and sizes, they might just be the most versatile of all government mandated tattoos. Some people prefer the clinical nature of the Barcode and spade combination, allowing any law enforcement to instantly trace a snowbunny back to her owner. A little less subtle would be the various forms of writing, varying from block lettered “BLACK MALE PROPERTY” to what essentially amounts to hand drawn scribbles indicating that they are “BLACK OWNED”. 

Another classic would be the queen of spades womb tattoo. They come in all shapes and sizes, some making its way across the whole abdomen, one more intricate in its design than the other, others are small, simple and could be mistaken for a landing strip of pubic hair if one doesn’t take a closer look. Of course you know what these mean. All women that have birthed atleast one black baby are entitled to a womb tattoo, proving their loyalty and dedication to continuing the black race. Another variant of this tattoo is the snowbunny womb tattoo. This one indicates that the woman in possession has graced the world with one or more white daughters, continuing the inevitable cycle of black gods ravaging fertile white pussy. 

As you know, there’s plenty more tattoo designs out there, both official aswell as unofficial. Take the “multiple black masculinity symbols penetrating a single white femininity symbol” tattoo. I know it’s a bit of a mouthful, but as far as I know these don’t actually have an official name. They’re proof of a womans dedication to pleasing multiple black kings at the same time. Two symbols indicating a threesome, three a foursome and so on. Frequent participants in gang bangs tend to have tattoos completely surrounding their fragile femininity with throbbing black arrows. The I <3 blackboys usually go out to snowmilfs or teachers that prefer younger black men, while the “Say No to White Boys” tattoos are basically just fashion statements at this point. Sure they might’ve been relevant at some point in time, back when people actually still debased themselves to letting shrimpdicked beta cucks flop around ontop of them, but thankfully these times are long gone. 

I’m sure there are a few I forgot, but I do believe these should be the origin and meaning of the most important ones. 

In 2003, the relationship between Sree Nandu and Sheela, a lesbian couple in Kerala, attracted national media controversy after a tabloid published an article on them. In 2004, Sree and Sheela told their story in their own words:

Sree Nandu: At a wedding function, I met the girl whose face I had seen in many of my dreams. A fair girl with a chiseled face, good body structure and melancholic eyes. I saw her looking at me. This girl was Sheela, who had, in fact, mistaken me for a boy, thanks to my way of dressing and hairstyle. We spoke to each other, and soon became good friends. I gave her the name ‘Anjali’, which I had desired for my lover in my dreams. I quite often call her Achu, short for Anjali. We realized that we were destined to be friends, for our problems and worries were similar.

Sheela is the eldest of three daughters of Vijayanandan and Omana, who are Christians. Her father is an auto rickshaw driver. They belong to the lower middle class section of society. But more than poverty, it was the cruel nature of her drunkard father that tormented her. [...] When she was pursuing her predegree, one day, one of her friends came to her house. Vijayanandan scolded her for some reason, also scolded her friend and beat Sheela in her friend’s presence. The friend narrated the episode to all her other friends in college, which made Sheela go in a cocoon even in college, which was her place of freedom from home. However, she somehow completed her BA in Economics. She fell in love with Aneesh, son of her father’s cousin. At that time, she thought it was love, but now in retrospect, she doubts whether she had at any time really loved him. For her, talking to him was a welcome relief from the shackled life at home. Her parents, however, did not object to her mingling with Aneesh, who made her pregnant and ditched her. She kept this to herself for a while, but one day, decided to confess everything to the priest of her church. But it so happened that when she started to confess, the priest told her that he was very busy and that she had to finish her confession in a minute or two. Sheela felt totally let down.

That was the time she met me at a marriage function. She mistook me for a boy, and fell in love with me. But even later, when she realized that I am a girl, her love for me did not fade. She told me it was not the gender that mattered, but real friendship that she was looking for, and that she found it in me. That was when we both realized that we were deeply in love with each other. Sheela told the story of her life to me. I consoled her, and told her we would together face all storms boldly.

One day, we spent hours at Neyyar Dam sight, near her college. She told me that she had lost interest in going to college. She revealed that it was to avoid being at home that she chose to study. She also told me that in me, she found the friend she had been looking for all these years. I am the first and the only person in her life who gave her a patient listening. This feeling is mutual. What more do you need in life once you get a person, man or woman, who can understand your feelings, share your thoughts and console you as a friend? The best lovers are the best friends. For me, Sheela encompasses different shades of love that I have longed to experience in life. She is my lover, mother, father, brother and sister. And Sheela has told me that she has the same feelings towards me. So, we made perfect lovers.

Meanwhile, for a few weeks, I could not contact Sheela because my mother had fallen ill in Cochi, where she was staying with a few relatives, and I had to be with her day and night. Sheela somehow came to know that I had gone to Cochi where my mother was living with relatives.She went to Cochi in search of me. Not knowing where to find me, she then went to Sultan Battery in Wyanadu, where she had a cousin, as she could not have remained home without seeing me. However, her parents brought her back from there and tortured her so much that she fell unconscious. Her father threatened to kill her with a knife, because he was ashamed that she was carrying a child out of wedlock. He beat her with a chair and asked her to leave home the very same night. Even her mother and two sisters echoed her father’s sentiments. She ran to her neighbour for help, but in vain. She then spent a few weeks at different orphanages.

When I came to know of all this later, I went to the orphanage where Sheela was living. I lived with her when she delivered her child. Sheela had developed some problem with her legs and she could not walk properly. I nursed her and ‘our’ child. Later, when she recovered, we left the orphanage. But we left the child there, as we ourselves didn’t have any place to live. We went our separate ways. Sheela’s aunt then took her to ‘Snehashramam’, an institution run by nuns to rehabilitate women prisoners after they had served their term of punishment. That was sometime in June 2003. I came to know that Sheela was in ‘Snehashramam’ some three months after she was made an inmate there. I immediately went there and became an inmate myself.

‘Snehashramam’ was a weird place. Actually, there were no women convicts there. It was all, only on paper. There were 14 inmates, and the ashramam was getting aid from various agencies. During her stay there, Sheela was once made to draft a letter to a foreign agency, which read that the ashramam was in the process of rehabilitating 14 girls salvaged from the red light areas. Which meant that Sheela was also presented as a prostitute. When she questioned the nuns about this, they beat her up. Life in the ashram were the most horrible days of our life. We were forced to do hard, physical labour. But were given only light and low quality food while the nuns ate protein enriched food. They often caned the inmates. Sheela requested me that I should take her away from there.

One night, we left the ashramam and reached my home. My parents allowed us to live in my home. They were very good to us, and did not ask us any uncomfortable questions. But that calm atmosphere did not last long. One day Sheela’s father and the nuns of ‘Snehashramam’ came home, threatened us, took Sheela’s academic certificates by force and left. A few days later, Sheela’s father came again and created an unpleasant scene. Finally, he took her away by force. I complained to the police that my friend had been taken away without her consent. When we reached Sheela’s home with the police, Sheela’s father came running with a knife to kill me. The police, however, stopped him.

We then planned a mock suicide attempt at Sheela’s home. Sheela was alone at home, and I went over to discuss our plans. We pretended that we had mixed poison in our halwa and consumed it. Her parents took us to Medical College Hospital to be treated for poisoning, in Thiruvananthapuram, where we told the nurses our real story. We told them that we only pretended to have consumed poison. The nurses allowed us to escape from the hospital. We then took a bus to Waynadu, where we lived as paying guests. We made the people, in whose house we stayed, believe that we were husband and wife who had come to Waynadu in search of jobs.

Since I always wore trousers and sported a boy cut, it was easy for people to think of me as a man. For some time, I worked as an auto driver. Then I worked as a night guard in rice fields. We were living happily in disguise, when in the first week of December, ‘Fire’, a weekly, carried a perverse story on us. The story was a distorted version of what Sheela had confessed to the nuns at ‘Snehashramam’. We were baffled to know that the nuns had leaked Sheela’s confession to the press. I borrowed ₹1,000 from a friend of mine and we fled Waynadu that night itself. We realized that we had reached the end of the tunnel and there was still no light. We decided to end our lives, but not before telling the whole world about our struggle to live a peaceful life.

We decided to give an interview to Asianet Television. That was in the first week of December. The Asianet people told us that there was still hope. They asked us to meet Maitreya and Jayasree, who gave us shelter in their home. We started helping them in their AIDS prevention project at the Foundation for Integrated Research in Mental Health (FIRM). Meanwhile, we launched a complaint with the Circle Inspector requesting him to help us retrieve Sheela’s certificates, which her father and the nuns of Snehashramam had taken by force. On the previous day, while we were going to FIRM, Sheela’s father saw us. He chased us, and reached the FIRM office with the police. On his request, the police bundled us into the jeep and took us to the Women’s Cell.

At the station, the police pushed us around, closed Sheela’s mouth, didn’t allow her to speak and used abusive language. They told us that Sheela would have to go with her father. When she objected, the police told us that they would book us under IPC 377 for being involved in unnatural sex. There are a number of men living together in lodges or rented homes. Nobody has booked them under this section. Nobody labels them as homosexuals and parades them before the public. No journalist chases them. No photographer takes their photos. What then makes our living together a bigger issue than any other? Is it because we are women? Whether we are lesbians or not is our very personal and private affair. We did not invite anybody to peep into our private life. We are not public figures. The police, press and society can play havoc with women’s lives, and push them towards committing suicide.

But we were not ready to take things lying down. We have decided to fight out this gender discrimination. We made it clear to the police that we are majors, and the Constitution of India has given us freedom to live life the way we want. Sheela put the same in writing. That left the police with no option other than to leave us. The drama ended there. [...] The next day, the media flashed reports saying that we are lesbians and that we have pained our parents. But nobody asked us before printing these stories why we found our homes hell. Nobody asked us whether our parents loved us. Nobody asked us whether we were loved by anybody. Nobody asked us why we had to live in an orphanage for months together. Nobody asked us how we lived in Waynadu doing physical labour to eke out an existence. Nobody bothered to ask us why we love each other so intimately. Instead, they gave a onesided, and that too distorted, version in their stories, and they call it journalism. They claim that they are the watchdogs of democracy. We confronted the media, and we decided to take the bull by its horns. We convened a press conference on December 23 at the Thiruvananthapuram Press Club. [...] There were contrasting press reports the next day. We had broken the stigma. We have become visible in our own way. Tomorrow, no journalist will chase two girls living together. No police will nab them. Considering the pretentious moral orthodoxy of the Kerala society, I think, we two girls have done a remarkable job.

It is a wrong notion that women need the company of men to live. I think, women are compelled to do so. Given a chance which sensible woman would live with a man? What more does a man have than a woman, other than his muscles? And who needs muscle power? What humans need is love. Not power. There is hierarchy in a man-woman relationship. Which sensible woman wants to be under a man? A woman-to-woman relationship is built on love. There is no hierarchy here. There is only sharing. Since this love breaks all norms of society, it is that much more powerful. We are happy that we met, we loved each other, and we still love and live together. We will face the world together. I believe we have given an opportunity to hundreds of similar friends in Kerala to make their decision public.

All this said, we now need space to live together. We are right now with Sangama, an NGO based in Bangalore, working for the cause of lesbians, gays, transgenders and intersexuals. We need a job. Sheela’s certificates are yet to be returned. We are two women out of our homes. We need support. Though Kerala gave us so much pain, we want to return there, because that was where we first met. We want to live together, till our death. We want to adopt a child. We don’t know how to reach the child that Sheela gave up for adoption, but would like to give any child a home and build a family quite different from our families. You don’t need to have your own children. And what is the guarantee that all parents would love their children? We know that from our own lives. Sheela and I want to give shape to a family where love and love alone would be supreme.

Sheela: I love Nandu more than anybody else in this world. She is the first person in my life who was ready to listen to me, understand me, console me and give me moral support. Once you get a lover who loves you the way you want to be loved, your life becomes meaningful. The man whom I trusted, ditched me. I was pregnant. When I told that to Nandu, she consoled me. She nursed me and my child like a mother. I hate my father and the nuns of ‘Snehashramam’. Today if we suffer, it is because of them. There is no sneham (love) in ‘Snehashramam’. It is a cruel world where the nuns beat you, make you do hard labour, deny you proper food and, more importantly, reveal confessional statements to others. All these years I have been searching for someone who really loves me. I found the lover of my dreams in Nandu. The gender doesn’t matter when you love a person. It is the care and love you get that makes you love a person. From Nandu, I am getting different shades of love.

The two split after a four year relationship. In 2008, a documentary, XXWhy, was released on Sree Nandu who now identifies as a trans man.

Survey #384

“watch your tongue or have it cut from your head”

Do you post to say happy birthday on other people’s walls? Sometimes. Depends on my mood and the person. When was the last time you saw a rainbow? Idr. What’s your favorite television commercial? I don't watch TV enough at all to have one. And who has a favorite commercial, anyway? Do you trip a lot? I don't really trip a lot, but kinda fumble over my footing and stray a bit. I'm horrible at walking straight, and it's gotten worse as my legs have. How old is your television? The one in the living room is god knows how old. My parents were still together when they bought it. When did you last talk on the phone with someone? A couple days ago for my appointment with my psychiatrist. Are you currently sleepy? I'm quite convinced I'm permanently tired. Are you hot or cold natured? I am ALWAYS fucking hot, ugh. Do you take any advanced classes? I took mostly Honors classes in school. Do you have weak upper body strength? My body is just weak as a whole. What is the worst insult someone can call you? Emotionally weak. Are you good at sketching? If we're talking meerkats, haha. They're the only complex thing that I can freehand no problem without needing a reference, honestly. Ever play Angry Birds? Nah. I thought the movie was cute, though. Have you ever been to the zoo before? Yeah. Has anyone ever been weirdly obsessed with you? No. Are you afraid someone might steal your identity someday? It's not something I actively worry about at all. Like, you don't want my identity, I promise. Do you have any talents that come naturally? Growing up, adults always told me I was a "gifted" artist and writer. Also that I seem to have an unnaturally strong connection with animals. I've always been that person where a pet's owner is like "omg ____ never lets people do that" and whatnot. Have you ever had plastic surgery before? I haven't. It's funny though, how opposed to it I used to be... Like goddamn, I was such a fucking stupid and honestly judgmental teenager, regarding many things. I look back on her and cringe. Like damn dude, if you have a safe surgical procedure to help you enjoy the body you're stuck with the rest of your life, you go for it, boo. Are you afraid of airplane rides? Not really. What’s the best Valentine’s Day gift you’ve gotten? There was this one year where Jason had to go to work on Valentine's Day and I was super bummed, yet he still surprised me with a heart-shaped box of chocolates, roses, and a game I really wanted, Heavy Rain. I thought it was the sweetest. What is something you lose often? My phone. ;-; Do you enter a lot of sweepstakes? I don't enter any. Do you consider yourself physically active? *chuckles nervously* Do you have Netflix? Yeah. Favorite salad dressing? That Olive Garden replica you can buy at the store. Do you enjoy dancing? Once upon a time I did. My body could never handle it now. Have you ever considered writing a novel? Many times. Snow or sand? Snow, by twenty thousand miles. It is VERY hard for me to walk through sand, and I also hate hate hate hate HATE the sensation. Do you like sour candy? Heeeeeell yeah man. Have you gotten any injuries lately? If so, what & how? Nothing notable. Are you a clumsy person? Like you would not fucking believe. Last male you talked to in person? I think my primary physician's nurse. Are you thinking about asking anyone out? No. Pink lemonade or regular lemonade? Pink lemonade, for sure. But I love both. Chocolate or strawberry milk? CHOCOLATE. Strawberry milk is disgusting. Have you ever won a contest on the radio?No. Is there a song that reminds you of your best friend? There's quite a few. Has a book ever made you cry? Yes. Do you automatically check your phone when you wake up? Yes, for the time. Do you know anyone who has a pet bunny? Not that I'm aware. What store or website would you most like a gift card for? Rebel's Market. How do you feel about wolves? I adore wolves. Beautiful, majestic creatures with very interesting social dynamics. Name your top 3 favorite musical instruments. Electric guitar, violin, piano. What was the last book(s) you bought at a bookstore? At an actual bookstore, I think it was The Fault In Our Stars, which I never actually read. Do you use Pinterest? Yes. Do you know any sign language? No. Do you have a favorite poem? No. Do you have a dog? No. The one we were pretty much stuck with has a home now. Have you ever read The Little House on the Prairie series? I haven't. Have you ever gone on a service trip to an underprivileged country? No. Have you ever performed in front of more than 100 people? Yes, for dance. When (if ever) was the last time you went to church? Forever ago, I don't even remember the last time. What's a quote you think is really powerful? There's a whole lot. The first one that came to mind was, "An eye for an eye will leave the world blind," which I do believe has great depth in it. Have you ever had to do your laundry at a laundromat? Yes. Are you the oldest person who lives in your household? No. My mom is turning 60 (... I think?) this year. If you have tattoos, how long have you had them? I got my first the day I turned 18. Do you and your dad have similar personalities? We're alike in some ways, imo most notably in that we have NO fucking common sense, embarrassing as that is to admit. We're both kinda slow at understanding things, too. What were the last three things you had to drink? Mountain Lightning, milk, and water. What did your family usually do for Easter when you were a kid? Us three kids all got Easter baskets full of stuff, and we'd go egg-hunting when we were all awake. My little sister Nicole would always wake our parents up in excitement, haha. My parents hid plenty throughout the house, and there was always this one "special" egg that was actually from Mom's childhood and was extremely intricate and beautiful. You basically "won" the hunt if you found it, and it was extremely well-hidden. When you have house guests over, where do they sleep? Historically since living here, my two half-sisters and their spouses (the only people who've stayed over) slept in what is *technically* Mom's room, but for whatever reason this woman still insists on sleeping on the couch in the living room, I guess because she's used to it after all the years she didn't have her own room and bed. Are you emotionally stable? LOLOOLOLOOLLOLOOLOOLOLLOOLOLLLLLLLLLLL Do you still talk to the very first person you had sex with? No. Are you an atheist? No. I don't quite know how to define what I am, but since I believe there's SOME higher power, I don't think it's fitting to call me an atheist. What’s the largest bug you’ve ever found in your house? Hm... I'm unsure. Probably a male mosquito, 'cuz them bitches are big'ins. Would it annoy you if a stranger called you "sweetie?" If it was a man, I'd be creeped out. Are you into fashion design? Not really. What’s the worst thing you’ve gone through in the past year? My leg muscles continuing to degrade, honestly. I have to do something about this shit. How did you get your last bruise? I fell when stepping over the stupid dog gate. Have your parents ever forgotten your birthday? Yikes, no. Would you rather have some bacon or beef jerky? Bacon. Do you like your orange juice with lots or no pulp? NONE. Do you wear skinny jeans? Back when I wore jeans, they were the only kind I wore. What projects are you doing now for school? I'm outta school. What’s the most number of comments you have on a Facebook picture? What is the picture of? I have no idea. Do you like coconut flavored things? No. Have you ever met a famous author before? No. Do you know anybody who has been raped before? No, thank god. I know someone who might've almost been, though. I don't know what the fucking pig was going to do to her if my sister and I weren't there. Have you ever wished for bigger boobs? No. Being overweight, I just want smaller ones now, haha. Have you ever gone a full day without interacting with another person? I've gone many days without it. How many relationships have you been in that lasted less than a year? Four, if you're counting everyone that had the "boyfriend" title. Where were you going the last time you were on a plane? Home from Illinois. Where were you going the last time you were on a train? I've never been on one. Have you ever been significantly more physically fit than you are now? Holy fuck, yes. You would never guess now that I was perfectly healthy in high school especially, yet I still thought I was kinda fat. It hurts so much to look back on. When growing up, did you parents keep the house very tidy? I mean not excessively, but Mom was pretty dedicated to keeping the house in decent condition. With three kids though, of course the house was somewhat messy with toys and all. When you shop at IKEA, do you always stop to eat a snack/meal in the cafeteria? ... There's a fucking cafeteria in a furniture store? o_o I've never been there before. How many watches do you own? None, save for one in my "treasure box" from when I was a kid. I was SO SO SO obsessed with Finding Nemo that I kept my broken one. I did the same with my horribly aged sneakers, like the soles were coming off and Mom finally made me stop wearing them, ha. Are there any ways in which you greatly differ from everyone else in your family? I do fucking nothing and am useless to society. Should teenagers be allowed to have their cell phones with them in class? Yes, because emergencies happen. I personally think it's best to maybe have your cell phone flipped over on the corner of your desk or something and on vibrate, that way the noise isn't too disruptive and the teacher can see you're not just using it for other purposes. Do you have any gay relatives? Yes. Have you ever had to have a pet put down? Sigh, multiple. Have you unfollowed, deleted, or blocked anyone on social media recently? If so, what was the reason? Not recently. How many cups of coffee do you typically drink per day? None. Do you know what your vocal range is? No, but it's not very broad. What’s the biggest financial mistake you’ve ever made? I haven't been in this position before. Have you ever been in a relationship where there was a large difference in maturity levels? No. What’s the longest you’ve ever stayed as a guest at someone’s house? I wanna say over a month while we were technically homeless. How bad was your acne when you were a teenager? Oh dear, it was rough. Like there were people who had it worse than me, but ya girl was lookin preeeetty rough lmao.

Hello, Is This Thing On?

Hi! (as mentioned above). Do people still use this thing? I have no idea. Years ago, and I do mean YEARS ago, I had one of these. I didn’t use it for much, just reposting things, following humans I’d met in online communities, a ‘celebrity’ here or there, sometimes screaming about shit I couldn’t control into the void that is the endless scrolling interweb, and being pointless in wasting my time between classes, work, and twenty-something. Regardless, my previous tumblr had minimal followers, made minimal impact, and that was okay. It was honestly just a nice place to sort of hide in plain sight. Still be part of a social world without actually having to do much. This was also pre a billion other apps and social media outlets to express yourself or scroll mindlessly at a million other pointless things that people were posting to make you giggle or even just stop for a second and think.  

Clearly, the point of this, back then, felt like something I would use to help propel my writing career. Turns out, it did not. I did not write much, if at all. And most of the time I think it was because I was scared nothing was as good as any of the other stuff I was reading from people I liked, and thought were so much cooler and smarter than me; I still feel this way all of the time, but I do realize this was me being nervous, small minded about myself, and completely unconfident.  

Unfortunately, I am still most of these things a lot of the time, but recently, after getting fired from a job, having my heart broken by pretty much everyone on the planet, especially a few specific people, cancelled by all of my friends (?) - this is a thing btw. (It’s not as awful as being cancelled publicly, but it does still ruin your life, mindset, confidence, and overall physical and mental wellbeing) Getting a new job, hating it and feeling like I was going no where, and missing out on living a life I felt proud of and that I was actively participating in, I decided maybe I should just try to write it all out and see what happens. 

To be frank, I expect nothing of this. I can’t fathom a world where anything I have to say truly matters to people because lets be real - everyone has this own shit and everyone is going through so much all of the time.  And we all think we have something new, quirky, interesting, and important to say.  And in a world that constantly shoves perfection down our throats and works so hard to make each of us feel completely inadequate to every Kardashian, Beyonce, Grande, etc., it’s hard to really think that anything I have to say will matter to anyone; at all. 

(I also hate that all of my ‘perfectionist’ people were female, but maybe it’s harder to compare to Golden Boys when you are a female. Either way, there are many boys/men/theys/thems that are put on a pedestal and made out to be perfect out there, as well, and they deserve that notation as well. I just have no points of reference off the top of my head, so please forgive me; I am trying to do this in a stream of consciousness type thing.)

I mean, the truth is, I’m a fucking mess. I’m 33, single, living at home, afraid of my own shadow most of the time, and spend about 98% of my time alone. I pay for a phone plan that I literally only use to send memes to my two sisters, and that’s about it. I rarely receive texts, invites out, or even calls to make plans for something.  And while a lot of this is my own doing - again, I did cut off most of the world after I realized I was sort of the joke to a lot of people - it’s still kind of pathetic, and entirely uncool.  I am not a socialite, or someone cool and trendy, and to be honest, I kind of never want to be.  

Which is a semi-false statement, because years ago, when I had one of these previously, I sort of hoped it would work out and that I could write and be ‘cool.’ Whatever the fuck that means.  But now, years later, I’m honestly beyond glad I am not cool; not in the slightest. Maybe that’s making it to your 30s? Maybe the trade for having to create a daily routine of lathering up my body with like 9 different versions of FDA-Approved-Vampire-Juice on my skin to prevent me from looking any older than I already do, you in turn get to have a brain that finally realizes... having a ‘normal’ life is honestly pretty cool? Normal is clearly subjective here as everyone is normal, famous, notoriety, or not; They’re all still humans and people with feelings, thoughts, and emotions. This is a hard thing to realize when you see stadiums full of people screaming at Harry Styles (Boom! found a male perfect in this scatterbrain) or hundreds of paparazzi lined up to take photos of every person on a red carpet wearing clothing that costs as much as my student loan debt (Which sidenote, is VERYYYYYY much). It’s hard to fully realize that maybe some of those people who became ‘icons’ never really knew what they were getting into when they signed that deal with the Devil to make them seemingly immortal; especially in a world with the internet where everything can exist forever (or until the world explodes, clearly).  But maybe getting into my 30s and removing myself from most social media outlets, even listening to the news, or caring about whatever fucking popular haircut was in this season (it’s always bangs, and I’ve already made that mistake. No thanks), that I learned to realize - the truly most important people in your life are the ones that stick with you when it’s tough. When getting out of bed is so hard your limbs ache and you cry every morning on your way to work, at your desk behind your computer screen hidden in a corner, or in a bathroom stall during your lunch break. The normalcy that comes with realizing your prayers to ‘just make it to five o’clock,’ are heard and that you are just so thankful for that that you don’t even desire the innate feeling in most of our egos to stand out, be seen, ‘Make it’ in a way that lets people notice we ‘succeeded.’ Maybe this only comes with the realization of how nice it is to go to a grocery store braless and unnoticed. 

Maybe this is also something I, and so many of us in this point and shoot viral world, are trying to still learn. 

Sure, a lot of days I still crave being able to make a perfect Pintrest project, practice my Late Night interview with Letterman where I sound funny, charming, and likeable to all walks of life, or recreate a recipe from the New York Times website so great that The Barefoot Contessa finds out through word of mouth, and comes to my basement hide out, and offers to give me, a fellow barefoot loving bitch, her title and crown along with a glass of wine and a kiss from her husband, Jeffery. We’ll both laugh at how lovely it feels to be Barefoot ladies who understand that wanting ‘fame’ or ‘recognition’ in your twenties is only really a pathway to destruction by your 30s. 

And this is not exactly something that I learned easy.  In fact, I spent most of my twenties destroying my body with drugs - plenty of hard ones - and alcohol - various kinds of the same things - in order to numb my brain from the sadness that is just... being young, lonely, scared, unsure of yourself, and nervous that all of your hopes and expectations for yourself in your ‘dream life’ are too much for what you and your actual self will ever be capable of ever becoming. That I would never become the comedian I dreamed of being, or sing the perfect song in front of a crowd of admirers, or write that best selling book to tell everyone who thought I was nothing they could go fuck themselves. It’s something I still have to remind myself, and my brain and ego, that are most likely things I will never do because those are lottery dreams.  And people you know don’t actually win the lottery. And at the end of the day, I am people you know. And sometimes it breaks my own heart to realize I may never feel that rush of making a crowd laugh, or creating a piece of art that makes someone feel seen, but as Pam, from The Office said, and I am paraphrasing, ‘there is beauty in ordinary things.’ And I think reminding myself of that as I sat on the beach this summer and watched a dad teach his son to surf, and how happy they both were when he got up, gave me that brief feeling of... being okay. I won’t lie, I did cry a little at this realization at that moment, and I am slightly teary now as I write it, but I think I’m not ashamed of that because being normal means I get to feel things as I do, in that moment, and that is something I think I lacked in my desiring-bigger-flashier- twenties; actually being present in the world and your place in it. Even if that is just as small as being kind to a random person on the street.

I think that is why everything I felt I wanted to write never came out correct.  It never came out ‘Perfect.’ And that was my problem for most of my life, even up until today, I’m afraid that I am a perfectionist in the ways that are preventing me from becoming... me. I’m still fearful that I am too late in ever ‘accomplishing’ anything I ever dreamed. I doubt I will ever actually write a book. I’m unsure I’ll ever make a decent living. I am beyond doubtful I am ever going to be loveable to someone whom I also want to love back. And maybe I’m a little scared that I’ll never have a kid, or that if I do have a kid, I’ll never be a decent parent. And I’m still working on breaking the cycle of thinking something has to ‘sound’ or ‘be seen as important’ to be meaningful. There is beauty in the ordinary. I’ve started to make it my mantra. Spoken in my head every time I see a teenage couple holding hands walking in town, a father holding their baby close to his chest, a woman dressed in a power suit striding through an office building or city on their way to make their own careers or push equality further. I’ve started to dream of how actual normalcy makes the real changes. How every 4th grade teacher has a chance to change some kids life.

Clearly, a lot of these personal fears I have about myself not being ‘enough,’ or doing something good enough to become successful at it and build a life out of it, are monotonous fears and privileged middle-class complaints. I’m aware they may not resonate with anyone, anything, or mean much more than just being an online public diary entry to my own meandering thoughts, but, still - I finally felt like I had to try.  

So here it is, the whole truth on how I let myself become a ghost for years. 

I hope someone will stick around while I just... try to explain it all, figure it all out, and hopefully make sense out of even being whatever a human who is hoping to grow even means. Hopefully, something here will resonate with someone else and we can create our own little weirdo corner of the world where we’re not seeking more than just trying to be honest with ourselves and what it means to be human.  Even if that means just posting a recipe for banana bread (thank you Gwen Steffani for keeping me able to spell Banana), reposting random memes about how we all want to scream for 30 seconds and feel better, or sad-girl diary entry posts about how I ruined my own life a million times over.  Oh, and maybe I’ll give you tips on how to stain your wood deck, because I spent my day doing that yesterday and basically, Home Depot is calling me to be in their ADs. 

But at the core of it all, lets be very real, it’s hard to be human in so many ways. And I’m just hoping this connects with anyone. Especially any of us who wished we were different - in any way.

xoxo

-K

TL;DR Went into Captain Britain and Excalibur just to read Meggan, expected to hate Brian, found out they both were bad to each other and are both very injured, traumatized characters grappling with gender norms in their own way, and I have a lot of sympathy and love for them BOTH now even if they definitely are not a good couple at this point. So, I am keenly interested in Meggan Puceanu as a character and a concept. Just learning some very basic things about her prompted THIS META POST three years ago. And that was before I really plunked down and decided to read all her stuff in order. And while I have yet to read ALL of it by a longshot. But I’ve gotten through about 20 issues now, from her first appearances in “The Mighty World of Marvel” in 1984, to meeting and joining up with Brian Braddock/Captain Britain in the second series of Captain Britain in 1985, to the first five issues of Excalibur in 1985. So yeah, keep in mind reading this, I am only up to Excalibur #5. And I know I probably should wait before writing all this stuff, read more, see if my interpretations hold true. But I have so many thoughts and I just can’t wait that long! So please read on with the understanding I may be proven completely wrong in these perceptions later. That said.... I had some basic knowledge of Brian and Meggan’s dynamic. I knew that she was completely emotionally dependent on him, that her every emotion hinged on his approval and attention, that a lot of her very identity was based around pleasing him as his girlfriend. I also knew he’d been a real dick to her, and that his descent into alcoholism had made him an even bigger dick. So, I was really prepared to dislike him. And while I do still dislike the power imbalance that their relationship was founded on, I ended up having very different feelings about Brian himself than I expected---I thought I was going to encounter a shitty macho man himbo asshole who treated Meggan like shit just because. Seriously, look at THIS and THIS and THIS! What a JERK! I was all prepped to despise this guy and yell about toxic masculinity and how Meggan deserved better. Instead, what I found was someone who was as broken and in pain as Meggan herself, but who got far less sympathy for it than she did, both from other characters and from fans. The first big shock that I got was that Brian had been raped twice by female villains in the second Captain Britain series, before Excalibur began. I had actually read about this a couple years ago on TV Tropes, but seeing it was something else. I wrote a longer post about it HERE As noted in the post, Brian never told anyone about either of these incidences as far as I know, nor getting any kind of therapy or treatment. He also started drinking after this happened. And as of Excalibur beginning, Betsy is dead (or so he believes) and he’s grappling a lot with that too. I think it was unethical of him not to rebuff Meggan when she first came on to him, for reasons I’ll discuss later in this post, but also makes sense for his character, not because he’s an unethical person but because he’s actually very passive and seems to just accept whatever is demanded by him of others; he talks about this with Courtney, how he has no choice in being Captain Britain, how it was imposed on him, asking if he’s a coward for just wanting a little of his own life and she unsympathetically says it’s “obscene” how he “can’t be bothered” to “take charge” of his own life (Excalibur #3). It’s a very unusual flaw for a male character. In his own way, he’s at the mercy of what others demand him to be as much as Meggan is with her powers, and I find that really interesting. I already knew that Meggan is very much a reflection of the demands placed on women by society, literally twisting her own emotions and physical forms to coincide with what is considered beautiful and what others desire, whereas Brian, it turns out, is himself a reflection of the demands placed on men---he has to be a warrior, whether he likes it or not (and he doesn’t, it’s part of his backstory that he doesn’t see himself that way at all), he has to be the hero and take care of the girl and he feels he has to just go with it when Meggan decides he’s her man and she needs him. And Meggan is more flawed than I expected. She’s oftentimes shockingly selfish in her obsession with Brian. For instance, when his ex Courtney is kidnapped by the sadistic murderous Arcade, Brian is understandably upset, and this troubles Meggan because she thinks that his being upset means he still cares for Courtney. The selfishness there is staggering; a woman’s life is in danger and Meggan’s first concern is her own love life, and she assumes that the only reason Brian could care about said woman’s life being in danger is if he’s in love with her. Or when Brian’s drinking is first brought up by the rest of the team, Meggan says it hurts her that he turns to those bottles instead of to her (Excalibur #3). So, her problem isn’t that Brian is obviously becoming addicted to alcohol, it’s that SHE isn’t the one that he turns to. She’s got a lot of moments like this. That said, I LIKE this about Meggan. It makes me like her MORE. It makes her WAY more realistic and flawed and human than the archetypical frail damsel who is just an accessory to her man that I was expecting. She’s clingy, she’s possessive, she’s downright nasty and hostile over him a lot! She may not think of herself as a real person, but the writers treat her as one, complete with flaws. Her dependency isn’t treated as a good or romantic thing either, it’s not held up as a female virtue like I was expecting; Brian is actually bothered by it, he confides in Kurt that he doesn’t think he can handle how she relies on him for everything, how he actually PREFERS Courtney because unlike Meggan, Courtney is her own woman-- “She doesn’t seem to NEED me as completely and desperately as Meggan seems to. Sometimes I feel I’m the total and absolute focus of Meggan’s life. It’s a responsibility I don’t think I’m capable of handling.” And Brian is right, this ISN’T a good thing to do in a relationship, Meggan is putting a lot of unfair emotional weight on his shoulders, and he’s already got a lot to bear from his own trauma and loss. In fact, one could even argue that her behavior would be seen as toxic if the genders were reversed. She’s still very sympathetic, of course, because this is coming from a place of real insecurity and need and probably her powers too, but it’s more three-dimensional and complicated than what I originally expected. But I like that. Because again, it’s more realistic, both in terms of Meggan’s behavior and in Brian’s reaction to it---he doesn’t WANT a woman being totally dependent on him and thinking the sun shines out his ass and needing him for everything, he wants another human being. That’s not what I expected a Bad Macho Man Stereotype to be saying! But in fact, Brian says another thing he prefers about Courtney is “she’s her own woman” and  “I can talk to her, Kurt.” (Excalibur #5) Brian is a man who wants to be able to have someone he can be VULNERABLE with, to talk with as an equal about his fears and anxieties---which he does with Courtney, as mentioned---and he can’t do that with Meggan because of the pedestal she puts him on and her needing so much care herself. He says as much himself to Kurt. He also recognizes that he himself probably isn’t equipped to deal with Meggan’s issues, she needs much more help than he can give. This isn’t an idealized thing at all, this is a realistic depiction of two very emotionally injured people in a very messed up dynamic that is bad for BOTH of them, hurting them BOTH. Up til actually reading it, I was expecting it to be one-sided, with Meggan being the only one suffering, but it’s not! And Meggan being like this, of being obsessed with Captain Britain and behaving in a very “cliche” way over him, makes a TON of sense for her, she’s not just obsessed with him for no reason like a typical “just the hero’s girlfriend” character. Meggan grew up being kept secret in her family’s camper-trailer for her then-monstrous appearance, til during the Jasper’s Warp when reality shifted into a world that was putting superhumans, including herself, into concentration camps. While she was in the camps, Captain Britain was a legend as a liberator and freedom fighter who was fighting back against the regime for the sake of people like her. And when reality returned to normal, Meggan was one of the few people who remembered that it had ever changed; she remembered the camps, and she remembered Captain Britain. Even though she’d never even seen him at that point, she clung to him as her one hope. Then the real Captain Britain found her when she was homeless and living in an abandoned warehouse, and he lets her live with him in his mansion because she has nowhere else, which is probably more kindness than she’s ever been shown in her life, and from someone she idolized. Which, as I said way earlier in this essay, does make their relationship an inherently unethical one because of their power imbalance, as he’s got a lot of power over her in terms of being the one providing her with a home, food, clothing, etc., not to mention her emotional dependency that’s obvious well before she makes a move on him. So we’re already starting on really problematic territory. But it makes SENSE for her. Add to that Meggan was raised on television in a VERY literal sense. Again, she was locked up in her camper trailer all day every day her whole life, and so she spent most of her time just watching TV. It’s shown that this has given her SOME UNREALISTIC IDEAS ABOUT HOW TO BEHAVE so I think that absorbing the media’s depictions of how women are “supposed” to behave towards their men is actually pretty realistic. She’s not doing this because the writers think this is just how women are----NONE of the other female characters act at all like she does!---but because SHE thinks it’s what’s normal and expected, and she’s probably very much imprinted on the media’s fantasy fairytale depiction of relationships. Given how she grew up as an ugly monster and seeing herself as such, I can very much see her as latching on the idea of “beautiful sweet woman who is valued for her beauty and being with the lead man and has no identity apart from that” that’s prevalent in media, which she would take for a reflection of reality, a reality that she thought her whole life would be denied to her. So all her behavior has a good in-character reason; she could even be read as a criticism of trying to enact gendered media stereotypes in real life and how they can’t actually work in the complexity of the real world, and how damaging they are to those who absorb them. What’s also funny is that despite appearing to be the standard “strong man, pretty woman” couple, especially with Brian becoming emotionally distant and cruelly pushing her away whilst she’s very emotional and obsessed with pleasing him, is they actually subvert this paradigm as much as they play it straight. The Juggernaut WIPES THE FLOOR with Brian at one point, and then Meggan shows up, shapeshifts into a GIANT MUSCULAR VERSION OF HERSELF, and comes to his rescue with Rachel and Kitty! That’s right, a buff lady and two other ladies save the dude in distress! And then afterwards, she acts like SHE was the one in danger, resuming her default petite form and jumping into his big manly arms while he asks if she’s alright and she says “Always in your arms!” ---it’s hilarious! (Excalibur #3) And of course, speaking of subverting gender stereotypes, there’s Brian’s desire to have a partner he can be vulnerable with, which is really astounding to me----he’s very much grappling with the expectations of toxic masculinity in a way that’s harming him as much as Meggan. Not just in relation to Meggan, but also, as mentioned before, in relation to not having control of his own life as Captain Britain, and being responsible for others. In particular, he’s messed up over Betsy’s (seeming) death, and over not having protected her, as a man would be expected to protect his sister. In the panel right before the “changeling cow!” scene I linked earlier, THIS IS WHAT HE SAYS. He doesn’t see himself as any good if he doesn’t meet impossible standards. And while Meggan reacts to pain by getting teary, Brian consistently reacts to his pain (or trying to hide it) by getting ANGRY, which is consistent with how women vs men are socialized. Which is not to say it’s anything but VISCERALLY HORRIBLE when he lashes out at Meggan, especially given how dependent she is on him, and she absolutely SHOULD have dumped his ass then, but it’s also a lot more three-dimensional than the emotionally abusive drunken bad boyfriend stereotype I was expecting.  I know I’m a broken record on this, but I am just so shocked at how sympathetic I ended up being to a guy I was so prepared to hate and was so cruel to a character (Meggan) that I was already very sympathetic to and invested in. Instead, I’m invested in them BOTH now and want to see them BOTH heal from this, and from each other. So, basically, I was really ready to be mad about Meggan’s lack of agency and her dependence on Brian. And these are things that happen. But the writers are clearly AWARE of it, and treat them as issues to be addressed and overcome. Meggan and Brian come off not as the cliche male and female stereotypes they first appeared, and that I expected, but very critical examinations and sometimes subversions of them, and both are shown as being hurt by the expectations of their gender, and being hurt by each other as they enact those expectations. It’s not totally perfect, not by a long shot, but it’s very interesting and a lot more nuanced than I expected some straight white guys in the 80s to be writing, it’s definitely a far cry from the typical idealized relationship between a hero and a leading lady, and I’m pretty impressed with it. And I’m looking forward to reading more.

Marriage, Divorce, and Social Media

I was talking to a friend yesterday, and she told me that there is an ever-growing phenomenon in the American city in which she lives: Muslim couples getting divorced left and right.

"Why are all these people getting divorced? Is there a common root cause?" I asked her.

Her reply was succinct: "Social media."

Several months ago, I met up with another sister who said something very similar to me, describing the current situation in her town, in a different American state.

In my own experience, I've also come across cases of this very thing happening.

What is going on?

Social media is a tool, like a knife or a car or any kind of device. We can use it to bring about good, or we can use it to bring about our own destruction.

But the danger that is specific to social media, whether Facebook or Instagram or Twitter or Snapchat or whatever newer thing exists nowadays, is that it carries certain distinct risks that can erode our faith, our iman, along with our marriage.

What are some of these problems with social media?

1. Distraction:

Let's face it. Facebook is addictive. So is Instagram. So is Twitter, if you don't mind the levels of insanity some folks on there regularly sink to. On all of these platforms, you just keep scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling. Stuff keeps coming up! Endless entertainment. Perpetual amusement. You jump from one person's profile to another's, and go through all their pictures, and click on a name they tagged to see *that* person's page. The fun pretty much trots itself out before you; all you have to do is keep moving your index finger on the screen.

Next to this endless stream of gossip and intrigue, the conversation your spouse can offer you pales in comparison. And that's IF your spouse is even trying to engage you in conversation. Your husband is most likely on his own phone, intently following a fight on Twitter. Your wife is scrolling through pictures of other people's lives on Insta, wrapped up in their world. This couple might even be chilling on the couch together, after dinner and after the kids are in bed--looking at their phones instead of at each other. They're talking to other people online instead of to each other in real life. Where's the connection there? Where's the spark?

The marriage weakens while neither party is paying attention. The husband and wife are both otherwise occupied. It starts slow but it builds up over time. Communication, eye contact, and frequent conversations give way to silence, the glow of screens, and eyes glued to devices. If this trend of distraction keep going unchecked, a noticeable distance is created between husband and wife. All of a sudden, she says that she feels like they "don't really have much in common anymore." He says that they've "kind of drifted apart."

2. Gender barrier erosion:

Social media tends to dissolve the barrier between the genders, since we are all sitting behind the cover of a screen and not physically in the presence of others. The same types of strict observations of hayaa حياء (modesty), for people who try to observe them, seem to be easier to let go of when the interaction is entirely electronic.

Whereas in person, many Muslims would refrain from staring directly into the eyes of a member of the opposite sex, online some would feel no qualms staring at a picture of a member of the opposite sex. Whereas in person, many Muslims would feel reluctant to have a long drawn-out conversation about personal stuff with a non-mahram, online it becomes somehow easier to open up to a non-mahram about deeply private situations. The usually-rigid barrier of modesty that exists in person becomes relaxed online.

When that happens, a relationship starts to unravel fast. All of a sudden, a man starts to unburden himself to another woman: he shares his trouble at work, his frustrations in life, even his problems with his wife at home, and this other sister he's messaging is a sympathetic listener. He finds solace and emotional intimacy elsewhere, with a woman who's not his wife.

Even if he reassures himself that it's not haram because "this is strictly platonic" and this online sister is not his side chick...we all know where this path leads. Things that are private between a man and a woman have a way of going from platonic to romantic. Almost as though there was a third party present with them to make sure things get sexual, like maybe Shaytan. Oh wait...yes, there is that hadith! Online khalwa is still khalwa.

3. Validation and approval-seeking:

Everyone, male and female, likes to feel appreciated, validated, encouraged. We all want to feel special, paid attention to, admired. This need for attention in and of itself is not a problem--the problem is: where do we go to seek this attention?

Speaking as a woman myself, I can say that women have a higher emotional need for reassurance and validation. It's natural for most women to want to feel attractive, desirable, and to have our beauty admired and remarked upon. Men also have a need to be praised and appreciated--but women have this need in a bigger way. Islamically, women do have a natural and wholesome route through which to attain this desire for male attention: marriage. A husband is the only halal source of male admiration, attention, and validation of a woman's beauty. But increasingly, in our age of rampant social media usage, some women are turning to other sources for this: random men online.

It has become about *quantity* of attention instead of *quality* of attention.

A woman can either get higher quality (ie. real, genuine, halal) attention from one man, her husband. OR, she can get a higher quantity of attention (ie. more likes, comments, heart emojis) from non-mahram men on social media when she posts cute pictures of herself dressed up and made up and pouting for the camera, maybe adding a sexy filter. Unfortunately, what ends up happening in these cases is that people pick attention quantity over attention quality.

What solidifies things is the dopamine hit that comes from more likes and comments ("MashaAllah, sister! You're so beautiful!!"). The positive feedback can be addictive for some, and it serves as a vicious cycle that reinforces the pattern. Whatever attention her one man can give her can never quite measure up to the sheer quantity of male attention she's been getting from other people online. It's become a competition now and the husband is losing.

The wife becomes annoyed at him and resentful that he's not giving her her due. All these other guys online praise her looks and style, why can't this guy give her the same level of compliments? Maybe he doesn't deserve her. Maybe she's too good for this oblivious bum. Maybe she'll drop him for another man who knows her worth, maybe one of those dudes she's been messaging with online. *That* guy seems to appreciate her!

There goes the marriage.

Be careful on social media. Guard your marriage and family. Fear Allah in all your interactions, online and offline.

Umm Khalid

An NB reading of Grace in Terminator: Dark Fate

Disclaimer:

Before I start, just want to get this out here: I’m in no way insisting that Grace *has* to be non-binary, that we’re *supposed* to read her as non-binary, or that that’s in any way what she’s “meant to be”. This is just some stuff I’ve noticed that, as someone who sits on the genderqueer/non-binary/transmasc side of things, really resonated with me. Again--read her as entirely woman-identified if that’s what you want to do or feels right to you. I am ecstatic that lesbians and wlw-identified folks have someone that they feel represented in, too. I wish I’d had more characters like her when I was growing up and felt so out of place because of my gender non-conformity. 


But I, for one, would love a non-binary or even trans reading of Grace.

So what I’d like to do instead is just lay out a couple ways someone who is NB-identified *might* connect with Grace as a nonbinary character. Starting with the obvious.

Androgyny Now, I do want to be clear that I know that gender presentation =\= gender identity. And again, obviously, people will latch onto things that they relate to in characters, and I really do believe that there’s no “one right way” to read a character. The character of Grace isn’t a real person; she’s part of a story, told by people, who had something specific to say, and her character reflects that. But from the perspective of the people who watch her, who internalize and connect with her character, there can be points of connection that have nothing to do with the author’s/creator’s intent, and so, Grace-the-character can be many things to many people. The only real way to know how a person IDs is to ask them. That’s it, that’s all. You can’t assume. But also, sometimes, people do “ping” a certain way. They give off a sort of “energy”, and for me, Grace’s energy isn’t the sort of “diaphanous femininity” that even visibly-gender-nonconforming AFAB characters are often framed to exude. Grace’s energy isn’t masculine, either. Her mannerisms don’t seem intended to read that way; rather, they seem intended to read as soldier. I’m not very skilled at breaking down movements, especially when it comes to how actors move and what it all means. It’s totally possible that a lot of what’s unique about how Grace moves is because Mackenzie Davis is, self-admittedly, not the most athletically-inclined person. Grace is long-limbed and rangy and sometimes very stiff/poised, but never stiff through the hips like a Straight Dude(TM), or heavy through the shoulders like a musclebound meathead. She takes up space, too; she’s taller than Dani and Sarah both, and the only recurring characters who are “bigger” than her throughout most of the film are Carl and the Rev-9.

To be clear: Women can be tall, and rangy, and androgynous, and take up space, and that doesn’t make them less women--unless they don’t identify that way. My point with all of the above is just observing that Grace doesn’t move like a “male action hero”—but she also doesn’t seem over-the-top feminine in the way that mainstream-y media will “compensate” for perceived unfemininity, and that’s kind of wonderful. Her stature, her physique, all of that, seem to be chosen and calibrated towards an end goal that isn’t gendered: Combat, efficacy as a warrior. Whether you want to read her as a woman or as nonbinary is largely going to be about your personal preference. This also has the effect of giving the impression that Grace is absolutely unselfconscious about her body and how it looks—and she has no reason to be, not because she looks good or bad, but because what she can do with her body is just so vastly more important, and because she’s so willing to put her body and everything it can do on the line in order to fulfill her mission (and protect Dani). If Grace has a gender, it’d be “Protector” or “Warrior”. And in a way, what makes Grace so appealing to female-identified lesbians is the same thing that makes her appealing to NB people—Her character was explicitly designed not to cater to “the male gaze”, and therefore, she also exists outside the typical gendered confines reserved for “female characters” in media. The emphasis is just slightly different: Instead of a different way of being female, NB!Grace has little to no use for those categories at all. Again, it’s all in how you want to read her. Grace comes from a future where survival and fighting take first priority, and you could project the same tired “Gender isn’t a ~problem~ in the future/after the world ends” approach that a lot of cis and hetero men take to sci-fi--but also, why? It’s tired. Give me a Grace who is preoccupied with survival, yes, who maybe doesn’t have time to think too much about this gender shit--but also, a Grace who finds that this “androgyny” (although she might not call it that) suits her, who takes to this way of moving and being in the world, this way of using her body, and identifies more with that than with being a “man” or a “woman”. 


(Sidenote: as someone who took a fair amount of Queer Studies classes, it does irk me a bit that discussions of mainstream-y speculative media seem permanently suspended between this sort of “genderblind” futurism where “identities” just don’t exist because they’re apparently not needed anymore, or copy-pasting our contemporary discourses about identity into a future that is materially very different than ours. The point of these identities is, in part, to describe our experiences, the good as well as the bad, and those experiences of gender and sexuality don’t exist in a vacuum. So, the words we use will necessarily change to accommodate that—especially in the post-apocalypse. BUT, everything that comes after us will also bear the stamp of what came before it; it’s just a matter of what the creator means to emphasize.) Augments & Body Mods This is a little dicey, because there’s some clear tension in the movie between the idea of robots = inhuman/unfeeling = bad, and humans = good/feeling. And in that light, it’s potentially problematic to (even incidentally) imply that nonbinary/gender-nonconforming = not human.

But I’d like to point out that the film does deliberately challenge any neat separation of “human” and “machine” with Carl’s evolution as a person. 
And based on what I’ve read from James Cameron and Tim Miller interviews, there is some “blurring” intended between human and machine in the franchise.

In fact, Carl and Grace are foils for each other, somewhat, in the sense that they’re on opposite ends of a spectrum where human and machine become blurred, and I love that. As a genderqueer person with a very fluid experience, it appeals to me on a deep level because you could spend literally forever breaking down where does one “gender” end and another begin--emotionally, socially, spiritually, and physically.  


So the fact that there’s (1) no hard binary between human and machine (it’s explicitly subverted), and (2) we’re given multiple points of inflection, especially if you count Sarah and the Rev-9--alleviates a lot of the tension I’d feel otherwise in mentioning this. But I don’t think this is something that should be allegorical or a direct comparison; I think that it operates best on a metaphorical or theoretical level. 


And just, it’s the whole vaguely-cyberpunk idea of modifying your own body, not in a mass-produced or manufactured sense, but in this organic and highly individual sense, born out of contingency and necessity, that makes Grace’s Augments so meaningful. It’s one of the things that makes her read as human, too, because it feels more in line with our tendency to stick ink, steel, bone, what have you, through our skins whenever we get the chance--as opposed to some kind of symbolic dehumanization by “becoming a machine”.

Grace routinely refuses to categorize herself in anything other than the most general terms, or explain the details of her Augments, and she seems very protective of them. Rather than seeming ashamed, this refusal reads a lot like the popular queer identity explanation “not gay as in happy, but queer as in “fuck you’”. Her Augments are part of her, and part of her humanity; she volunteered for them, she owns them, and is even protective of them, viewing CBP’s invasive examination of her Augments as a kind of violation of her bodily autonomy. They’re clearly complicated for her, but they’re anything but depersonalized.

And going even further, the reason why she volunteered for them is so that she can defend humanity--and also someone she loves (Dani). They’re an extension of her sense of family, loyalty, love, and willingness to sacrifice.

And I don’t know for sure, but I imagine that Grace is basically one-of-a-kind, even among other Augments, if only because those Augmentations seem to be performed with the tech that’s on hand--salvaged Legion tech, by the sound of it, at least to start with. So the outcome depends on the parts available, the complexity and maturity of the Augmentation technology and process, and the skill & experience of the surgeons, all of which would vary over time. 


And honestly? If that doesn’t qualify as “beyond the binary”, I don’t know what does.

Some other general observations:

- Grace’s short hair is a constant throughout the post-Judgement Day scenes. As someone who started wearing their hair short as a preteen and hasn’t had hair to my shoulders since age 12, that does seem significant.

- Grace only introduces herself by name after Diego shouts “HEY LADY” in the factory before dropping an engine block on the Rev-9. Granted, most women don’t like to be addressed as “HEY LADY”, either, but it stood out to me, especially because she refused to give her name only a couple of minutes before that. Either way you read it, the line feels like it expresses some level of discomfort with or objection to that gendered statement. Maybe she finds that particular reference annoying or even offensive, but also, maybe she doesn’t really identify as a woman. She’s just... Grace.

- there were multiple times I mistook the back of her tank top for the back of a binder, even though she clearly was not binding.

- she constantly steals mens’ clothes--partly because she’s too tall for a lot of womens’ clothes around her, partly out of utility (like at the factory and CBP, where a lot of the guards are men). But also, it pleases the genderfucking queer in me quite a bit. And, I should note, when she had the option to take a female guard’s clothes at the CBP facility... she didn’t.

But ultimately, when I look at Grace, I see someone whose gender is “Warrior” or “Soldier”. And it’s so wonderful to see that so purely represented on a character we’re meant to perceive as female. So, please believe me when I say I don’t want to “take away” what Grace means for other people. 
And, for the record, I do mostly default to using she/her pronouns for Grace, because that’s how she’s canonically referred to. But just for fun--try this on for size: Using “they/them” pronouns for Grace. They (Grace) came back in time to protect Dani. It rolls off the tongue, right? It feels nice. Let’s re-try a couple of sentences from above: 


- “multiple times I mistook the back of their tank top for the back of a binder, even though they clearly weren’t binding” 


- “Grace’s Augments are about their ability to be a soldier. They were Augmented in order to hunt Terminators... Everything else is secondary to that, and their mission to protect Dani”

- “Grace only introduces themself by name after Diego shouts “HEY LADY” in the factory before dropping an engine block on the Rev-9 ... Maybe they find that particular reference annoying or even offensive, but also, maybe they don’t really identify as a woman. They’re just... Grace.”

And finally: 


Can you imagine the poor sod who tried to make fun of Grace for having a “girly” name? lmao rip

what are some under used marvel female characters youd love to see in the rpc?

HMMMOkay, so I’m trying to think OBJECTIVELY here and not just rattle off the female characters that I personally like, and more “I’m surprised that there’s not more blogs for this character, whether or not I personally am a fan” ....because I missed the “you’d love to see in the RPC” bit because I’m dumb, and then I wrote this whole list without regards for that part. So this came out as less “female characters I personally want” (who would all be stupidly obscure and irrelevant anyway) and more “female characters I think the RPC should give some more love to, whether I personally am into them or not”:Definitely ALL the girls in the New Mutants and Generation X! I see a fair few blogs for Magik and Jubilee, but I really don’t see any for the others. I get why Magik is going to be more popular---she’s in more stuff, she’s currently much more relevant in the comics, and her backstory is so goddamn compelling---but that doesn’t mean the others shouldn’t have ANY blogs out there. Wolfsbane, Magma, Karma, and Moonstar are all extremely complex and compelling characters with their own struggles and triumphs too, and I think they deserve just as much love. Likewise, I get why Jubilee will naturally get more blogs than Husk, Monet, and Penance (depending if you count Penny as a separate character or not...) due to her being in more stuff, having bigger arcs, etc. But it still surprises there’s NO blogs around for those ladies! I know there was that Monet blog awhile ago, and @badmusesdoitwell had an Amara that’s now part of their multimuse, as well as a Rahne, but that’s still nowhere near enough love in the RPC for these Junior X-Ladies, in my opinion. Speaking of Generation X, I’m also a bit surprised no one has picked Cordelia Frost up, given that we’ve got plenty of background canon for her via Emma’s history yet Cordelia herself has LOTS of room to go nuts with headcanons, like it’s just the perfect opportunity! And I’m sure lots of Emma blogs, of which there are MANY, would love their little sister around for some family threads. Fuck, I would pick her up myself if I were more into Emma and the Frost family as a whole. She’s hardly the most relevant, recent, or even interesting character around, she’s done very little and shown up very briefly, but the fact she’s related to Emma Frost makes me think SOMEONE would have an interest in her.Madelyne Pryor, for sure. Like, I love Maddy, but it’s not just my favoritism talking here. I think she’s pretty decently well-known in the comics fandom, and she’s a tragic villain, which usually pulls people in big-time. She’s got a grudge against the good guys, and it’s actually more legitimate than most, which I’d think would also attract people, since a lot of villains fans like to blame the good guys no matter what and THEY’D ACTUALLY HAVE A GOOD ARGUMENT HERE? Plus she has very strong connections to other, more popular canons, with a ton of fodder for angst and drama threads, which people just LOVE. I have seen a few Maddy blogs pop up in the past, and I always get so excited, but they never seem to last very long :CDr. Moira MacTaggert deserves ALL the love and respect in the world/fandom! She’s been a staunch supporter of mutants since day one, she’s a total badass, she’s super smart, she calls Xavier out on his shit ALL THE TIME, she’s the survivor of an abusive husband, she had to make terrible choices about her son that no mother should ever have to and then live with the consequences of those choices, and SHE GOES AFTER A KELPIE WITH A GODDAMN MACHINE GUN! She’s been a part of the X-Men comics for such a long time, and is very significant in them, it really surprises me that I’ve never seen a blog for her besides just ONE and it was for the XMCU sexy American CIA agent Moira, who is NOT Moira in my book and NEVER WILL BE. Speaking of, Moira will ALWAYS be human to me, I think making her a mutant all along REALLY undermines a big part of her character as just an unyielding mutant ally. Though I think her being human, combined with being an older female who isn’t anyone’s love interest (unless she’s, gasp, getting in the way of CHERIK aka the ultimate fandom sin how dare she the harlot -.-), is probably WHY she’s so damn ignored -.-Frenzy hasn’t been in THE most recent stuff, but she’s still been relevant recent enough that I think one or two blogs around would have happened if she weren’t black. Yeah, I hate to be THIS person, but any black character who isn’t Storm doesn’t get love, for all that the RPC likes to yell about being diverse and progressive. Remember all the Captain America and Iron Man and Hulk and Quicksilver blogs that popped up after their movies? Yeah I saw like ONE T’challa blog after Black Panther came out. Then again, I’ve yet to see blogs for Pixie or Firestar either, who are white, and I feel like they both were fairly interesting and well-known in fandom? Same for the Academy X girls like Sofia Mantega, Mercury, and Wallflower. Luna Maximoff FOR SURE. It SHOCKS me I haven’t see more than a couple short-lived blogs around for her, just given her family connections. Now, I don’t think a character deserves love just because of who they’re related to---in fact it annoys me when a characters gets a ton of attention and it’s very obviously just for that---but Luna has SO MUCH going on? The problems between her parents, her mother being absent so much, her father exposing her to the Mists, dealing with her powers, being a child of two very different worlds and cultures, it just goes on and on. Luna has had to grow up so fast, she’s such a strange and stoic child as a result, and though her situation is very fantastical, having to be the mature one at an early age because all the adults in your life won’t be is something a lot of people have to cope with and I think would find relatable; I especially love how she lives in this world where there’s no bad guys, like neither Crystal nor Pietro were the villains in her situation, just hurting messed up people, which she also recognized in Magneto and maybe also even Maximus . And there’s so much that could be explored with her too that hasn’t been in canon yet---for instance, her choice to identify with her Inhuman heritage and why that is, and the journey of identifying with your heritage but also looking at the horrible things in their history, I think that’s a story that a LOT of people from MANY backgrounds can relate to. It surprises and frustrates me that both writers and fandom don’t really seem to care about her or remember she exists; one the only two blogs I ever saw for her seriously got someone asking them “why would you make such a weird OC” like SERIOUSLY! Luna needs more love, big time. Any female Avenger that’s not Wanda or Natasha. I don’t read Avengers, I’m just an X-Men fan, but I know they exist and they shouldn’t have to be in a movie to get love. Ditto for She-Hulk, I’m not a Hulk reader but I know she’s a prominent character who has been around a long time and has a very developed personality and stories of her own, yet I’ve only ever seen her on @getreadytosmash‘s multi. I’ve also never really read Alpha Flight, but its main ladies ---Snowbird, Aurora, Vindicator---all seem awesome in their own different ways. Alpha Flight isn’t very popular to begin with, of course, so I don’t expect them to have as many blogs as, say, major X-ladies, but I think one apiece or so would be very justified.KWANNON!! I actually get why we didn’t have any blogs for her BEFORE now, because we knew NOTHING about her, she was just a very tragic prop for Betsty’s body-swap plot and a way to give her insta-ninja-skills, but now she’s come back and has HER OWN NEW SERIES in which we’re finally learning who she is and her background, I hope to see a blog or two around for her eventually!Destiny aka Irene Adler. Like. Do I even need to explain WHY? I think people just don’t want to play an OLD woman, especially one whose primary/only ship is going to be with another woman.Maaaaybe Clea Strange? I don’t know shit about her, never read Dr. Strange, but like, people make blogs for Sigyn literally just because she’s Loki’s wife, and Clea at least seems to like...DO stuff? IDK, not sure on this on, but figured I’d make an honorable mention.Siryn, Boom Boom, and Dr. Cecilia Reyes are all X-Ladies that I really don’t know much about. Like I know basic things like their powers but I don’t know their story arcs and such. But as with Clea and the Avengers ladies and She-Hulk, I just have a HUNCH there’s a lot there getting ignored by fans.Silhouette Chord is a longtime member of The New Warriors, and, like Alpha Flight, New Warriors doesn’t really have a fanbase on Tumblr to speak of, so it’s not surprising to me she’s not got any love here. And even within the pages of her own comics, she’s generally pushed aside, underused, and underdeveloped compared to the other characters, generally more a prop for her boyfriend’s stories than anything else. But she DOES have a personality, a REALLY cool backstory, and she’s like...look, the RPC claims to love diversity and representation and all that, right? Silhouette is a mixed-race WOC (half Black, half Cambodian, and I have NEVER seen another Marvel character of Cambodian heritage who wasn’t connected to her) who is also very visibly physically disabled, her legs are completely paralyzed and she is never without her braces/crutches, yet she still fights PHYSICALLY (something very rare for physically disabled characters, they usually are more like Oracle or Prof X) and is depicted in a sexual relationship, and there’s never any kind of fuss or angst about it or anything treating her as delicate or less than or anything like that. She’s just completely adjusted to it in a way that’s very rare in media. And like I said, she’s not a flat character, I’m not saying she should be more popular just for ticking off the diversity boxes, she manages to be really intriguing to me despite how little focus the writers give her, and I think that she and the other New Warrior girls (Firestar and Namorita) have a lot to offer the RPC. But I have to give a special shoutout to Sil since she’s my fave, as the neglected ones alway are.Meggan Puceanu is probably most familiar to folks here as Kurt’s love interest in Age of X, but she’s been around since the 80s. She’s a longtime member of Excalibur, and she’s just...fascinating. She’s a Romanichal mutant (though often hinted to have magical/mystical heritage too, perhaps fairy like Pixie) who has empathic, elemental, and shapeshifting capabilities. However, her empathic and shapeshifting tend to overlap, so she changes her form (and her mind) according to the feelings, fears, and desires of others. So for instance, there’s this one time where a group of men are checking her out, and she feels that “They love me...I want...to love them in return!” and she morphs into this sexxed-up version of hersef on the spot. This isn’t played for kinkiness or laughs either; Meggan’s identity struggles are a HUGE part of her character. She has no idea who she is because her powers make her reflect and respond to the feelings of others around her, internally and externally. She doesn’t even know what she actually really LOOKS like because of this; her powers were present since birth, causing her to grow fur instantly as an infant due to it being winter. This caused her parents to keep her locked up in the camper trailer, where she was raised alone with the TV (she’s also illiterate, which causes her to feel dumb a lot) and as more and more people around her spread rumors about the monstrous child inside, she psychically absorbed those beliefs and her physical form changed to reflect them, making her more and more monstrous as she got older. She didn’t know she was a shapeshifter, she just really thought she was a hideous monster. And even when she found out the truth, she STILL didn’t know what she really looked like, as the beautiful form she took on (basically Pamela Anderson with elf ears) was to please her boyfriend Captain Britain (whom she is really unhealthily dependent on starting out because of her situation)Meggan is insecure, she doesn’t know who she is, she has to cling to a man in order to have anything because no one else has ever loved her, she easily becomes jealous of other women near him, she gets made fun of for being a bimbo and she often feels she is because she can’t read or understand “clever words” due to her isolated upbringing...and she gets through this! She develops! She becomes STRONGER and she becomes SECURE and she gains CONTROL of her powers and SHE KICKS ASS and she FORMS AN IDENTITY!  And then Meggan SACRIFICED HER LIFE to buy time for Captain Britain, Psylocke, and Rachel Summers to repair the tear in reality caused by House of M. She ends up lost between dimensions and TRAPPED IN HELL, where she uses her empathy to rally the lesser demons against THE LORDS OF HELL ITSELF and wages a war IN HELL for which her demon followers dub her “Gloriana” and she forms a sanctuary there called “Elysium” where souls can escape torment!  AND THEN SHE FINDS HER WAY HOME!THIS WOMAN KICKED ASS IN HELL AND WON!! Like she just goes through SUCH an arc, and I admit I have not read it myself yet, she’s on my list of characters to read EVERYTHING on and I’m still only familiar with her very insecure Excalibur days (which I love a lot, I just feel so much for Meggan and her struggles, I think she’s very much a reflection of a LOT of real-world issues, ranging from mental illnesses to just EXISTING as a woman) but I already have a ton of feelings about her and I think she’s more than prominent and accomplished enough to merit more attention in the RPC. And this is less of an “actually has reasons the RPC should love her” character, because really there’s no reason they should, she’s not prominent or relevant or or anything, but more an interesting “did you know”---did you know there was a “young female Wolverine clone” in the comics BEFORE Laura Kinney? Avery Connor! She pre-dates Laura by a year and has a VERY similar story, yet she never took off in popularity and very few people know her. You can read about her HERE on my Marvel blog. Again, would not say there’s actually any reason she’s earned love from the RPC like, say, Meggan or Luna, but I just thought I’d toss that in as a tidbit for the Logan family fans, as I know there are many.(Also, cheating because these are dudes, but: I’m not a Banshee fan but I am surprised I’ve never seen a blog for him, nor for Sunfire. Or for 616 Pyro. Or...)

Tips on how to Introduce   Toys Throughout The Bedroom

sex toy for couples Seeing that 60 Shades of Grey is very popular, all of the actual media is actually talking regarding   and adult toys. Are generally you curious about hoping these people but are as well embarrassed? Are you currently unsure whether or not they are best for your family along with your relationship?

sex toy for couples

The pursuing are good common misconceptions concerning adult toys:

Most of the people no longer use   toys

Inappropriate! A lot of respectable people utilize   toys, including people almost all would likely consider perfectly typical. Utilizing an adult toy does not cause you to "odd" or won't state anything negative with regards to your romantic relationship. It only helps you have enjoyable more pleasant in the bed room! You don't have for you to share with your mates, your own personal boss or your new mother that you use playthings until anyone unless anyone want to.

Adult toys tend to be just for masturbation.

When adult toys are typically used for fleshlight, numerous couples enjoy applying toys and games together, whether they are usually female or male or even hetero ual or homo ual. Normally these couples are secure trying new things with each other, are open-minded, and having faith in.

Your partner will experience inadequate when you start employing a   toy.

Have you been nervous that if you actually bring a grown-up toy straight into the bedroom, it can harmed your partner's emotions? A adult toy can present you a good orgasm, nevertheless it can't show you precisely how much they love a person or rub your again. An item is not some sort of substitute for a true man or woman. If your partner has this kind of fear, always be sensitive in addition to stroke the or her ego somewhat. As with most partnership issues, fine communication will be key.

Using adult   toys may be physically dangerous.

NOT A WAY!

In fact, adult gadgets can have quite beneficial effects on your   well being.

For example, several doctors as well as therapists highly recommend adult toys to help girls who have trouble declaring orgasm; if you put up with from distressing  , vibes can activate blood movement; all women can usually benefit from kegel exercisers or kegel projectiles to tone the pc muscles; prostate massagers will help risk of prostate cancers, erection problems and frequent evening peeing. Lastly, orgasms support you are living longer, wedge pain and also, some point out, look youthful. Who more than likely want which?

If an individual use   toys also much, you'll not have a great orgasm with your spouse.

If your partner is usually scared you'll replace him or her or her together with your favored toy, promise him / her that will you'll always keep points distinct in the room: try different roles, brand new toys, light bondage along with fantasy play.

Should your connection is healthy, there isn't a explanation why you should want a masturbator.

You are generally so lucky to experience a balanced relationship. However, who have would not want to make their very own romance even stronger in addition to better by sharing a new new expertise? If your personal lover is insistent in relation to not wanting to make use of an grown-up toy in order to spice up your own  ual life, assure him or perhaps her you do not need a adult toy sometimes, you would just like to attempt a single.

You or your current partner is frightened involving feeling pleasure

Enjoyment is definitely a birthright. Everyone is deserving of it and should possess it. Individual your   drive and do what realy works with regard to you. After all,  ual climaxes allow you to healthier and more comfortable.

Acquiring   toys can easily be really embarrassing specially because they look yucky as well as scary.

You usually are right. At this point, thanks to be able to the Internet, you could retail outlet in the ease and comfort of your own property without judgement. Most   toys make you feel uneasy because they are normally phallic or cheesey and/or so loud that anyone feel your children or maybe neighbor may hear precisely what you are up for you to. Extravagance   toys tend to be just the opposite. Will possibly not even realize that that they are premium quality adult games because they look similar to art work. They are at this point so discreet and also peaceful that no one will be aware of what you are upwards to.

These reasons may possibly make sense and help most people but may well not meet your needs exactly. If gowns the case, here are usually 3 much more reasons to help try out   playthings:

Satisfaction =   Gadgets

Who is not only a supporter of orgasms? You will be way too tired or far too hectic to have  , although there's no denying in which ejaculations feel good. Grown-up toys can help you actually have an overabundance of orgasms. What's inappropriate with that?

Adult   toys are generally Fun.

Whether you have got been along with your lover regarding a few months as well as many years, things could be a bit stale along with you want to try out something totally new. That's OK rapid you aren't alone! Adult toys and games can add enjoyment in order to the bedroom and preserve items from getting ordinary. Having an adult toy collectively should bring you closer; revealing fresh experiences together can certainly be very affectionate.

ual Toys Make   A great deal better.

Did you know this about 30% of girls truly have an orgasm while having  ? Most women need clitoral arousal to achieve the orgasm. In the mean time, many adult men have trouble keeping all their erections as long while they'd like, whether the idea be because of era, medication or stress. Gowns what adults toys usually are for!

If you tend to be now willing to start utilizing adult toys, here are usually a few strategies to be able to get started:

Start gradual by simply starting out along with something smaller. Start together with a small toy and possess your lover that the particular toy is centered on adding a lot more pleasure in addition to excitement for you to the bedroom. Like in the event that you want to consider a vibrator, get started with some thing that's small and prudent, like a finger spielzeug or even vibrating egg. In the event that you want to test light bondage, try the blindfold or holding your own personal spouse's hands above their own scalp during foreplay.

Any time you are set, job your way up to help anything bigger and bigger.

Most importantly of all, remember that interaction is the key to the healthy relationship. If a person can't talk about your thoughts or desires, something happens to be not necessarily right. Intimacy as well as exciting are the main aim. Its entirely up in order to you to decide regardless of whether that means with or perhaps without   toys, however experimentation never hurt any individual!

I Knew When I Saw You - Alpha!Dylan O’Brien x Reader

Author: Roseringleader13

Pairing: Dylan O’Brien x Reader

Word Count: 7,531

Warning: Smut - and A/B/O dynamics - marking

A/N: So I have @bilesbilinskix to blame for this being created and posted. I always had the idea but it was until she bounced up and down freaking out that I decided to actually go through with it and post it. So, here ya go Halestorm!

Credit to: @roscoeknows / @little-nya Link to original post

Tags: @skeletonangel1998 @bilesbilinskix @golddaggers @mf-despair-queen @roscoeknows @little-nya

3 years.

It’s been three years since I saw that cute little mug of a cocky sweetheart in a movie my friend Rebecca dragged me to.

Maze Runner: The Scorch Trials.

I was so confused because I had never seen the first movie so I wasn’t following along at all. But I was definitely paying attention to the whiskey eyed beauty on the screen. Is it possible to pay attention to someone without actually paying attention? The answer is yes because when the movie was over and Rebecca had asked me what I thought of it, my only answers were ‘I want to fuck that man’ and ‘I didn’t even pay attention I’m sorry’. She didn’t appreciate it but at least she let it go after a couple weeks. I was her best, and only, friend. She kind of had to forgive me. Fast forward to me being sick for two weeks straight with the flu after seeing the movie; so what did I do? Binge. What did I binge? Everything Dylan O’Brien that existed at the time. Now, I didn’t expect to fall in love with a man who didn’t know I existed and I knew nothing about, but I did. I fell in love with his cute upturned nose and how his eyes just lit up whenever he laughed. The moles that danced along his left cheek that looked my favorite star constellation Orion’s Belt. That brown mass of chocolate on his head that he alway somehow managed to have styled the perfect way; when it wasn’t hidden away in the Mets hats he owned. His veiny hands and long fingers that looked like they could do many, many things to a girl- plus it was adorable how he called them kitten claws. For a good two weeks straight I ended up watching and reading everything that regarded this man. It was unhealthy, really weird and Rebecca thought I lost my mind but I couldn’t help it. Something in me told me I needed to know about him. Everything I could find. I had two full weeks of nothing but just sitting in my bed, suffering from being sick, so I used it to my advantage and learned everything I could about him. Once I wasn’t sick anymore, I was able to move past the brief obsession and continued on with my life, but I always felt myself get drawn back to him.

Dylan.

No matter what I always found myself checking on his social media from time to time, watching his interviews, keeping up with his movies and TV shows. That’s when I started to somehow fall in love with him even though I had no actually met him before.

This proved to be a problem because I always ruined my chances to find a mate. Every time I met an Alpha who seemed to take an interest in me, I found myself comparing them. They didn't have the right eye color. Their hair wasn’t brown and styled right. There wasn’t any moles lining their left cheek. The sense of humor and respect they had wasn’t at the right levels or they couldn’t keep up with some of the topics I enjoyed nor did they meet my expectations when discussing hobbies. Every single person I met fell flat because I began to realize they weren’t Dylan.

I couldn’t bring myself to like them because I was comparing them to a man I had never met, but somehow fell in love with.

The bigger problem was all my friends were already engaged, married and having kids or at least met their mates. Even Rebecca had met her mate about a year ago and I was still alone. Which was dangerous seeing as I’m an Omega and pushing 25. If I didn’t find a mate soon, my body will start to reject itself and begin to attack me. My heats were becoming unbearable to the point that I ended up in the hospital during my last one, which freaked my friends out and made my parents beyond worried to a point that they were threatening to force me to pick a mate, whether I liked them or not, simply so I could survive.

But I couldn’t do it. Something inside me was telling me I needed to wait a little bit longer. I couldn’t explain why and no one was willing to listen when I did. I couldn’t settle because I knew. I just knew. No one I met would be good enough in my eyes. They weren’t good enough because they weren’t Dylan and now I was going to die alone and useless because of him. But today that changed.

3 years later I was finally going to meet him. I had worked hard all year and saved up enough money to take off work for a week and go to the San Diego Comic Con, bought a special VIP pass to have a one on one meet and greet with Dylan O’Brien. My body felt like it was singing as I stood in the line to see him, fans all around me giggling and squealing just like I was on the inside. My outer appearance was oddly calm and collected despite how every inch of me felt like it wanted to jump off my bones and do some kind of dance.

My y/h/c was down and styled in soft curls while I had the perfect amount of eyeliner on to make my y/e/c pop. Soft pink lip-gloss coated them while my nails were shining from the manicure I got the day before. I had to look perfect. I had to look presentable. I needed him to see me and be awestruck just like I have been with him for 3 years now. I wanted him to feel like I did. As the line got shorter and I got closer to the room where Dylan was, something inside me started to feel weird. My stomach wouldn’t stop twisting in these weird knots and my heart felt like it was suddenly going to burst from my chest. At first, I thought maybe I was having a random heat flash but when I looked around me and noticed that no one seemed to be sniffing or smelling something, that’s when I realized that I was the only one feeling this sensation. But I wasn’t going to let it ruin this. So despite the pain and overwhelming emotions, I pushed on and kept at the line until finally I was in front of the door that kept me. My palms were beyond sweaty at this point and it didn’t help that I was the last person Dylan was going to be meeting. Pulling out my phone, I looked over my appearance just one last time. My tank top was pulled down enough to show the top of my breasts but I didn’t look slutty. The jeans I wore still hugged my ass and thighs like a second skin and the makeup I wore hadn’t smeared or needed to be touched up. Which was a good thing because I faintly heard the security guard call my name and open the door for me to go inside, my heart beating wildly in my chest until- It was perfectly calm. Right when my eyes met is and his scent suddenly hit me like brick wall.

~ Dylan’s POV Today was just dragging on no matter how hard I tried to focus and get it over with. It has been press conference after interview after panel. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. Meeting the fans, talking about upcoming projects, seeing just how big and popular I’ve become. It was a giant rush and I loved every second of it. But I just couldn’t get out of my own head today. About six months ago I had broken things off with Britt for the final time because no matter how much we tried, it just didn’t work. Sometimes Alphas and Betas can end up being mates and having a happy relationship but we were forcing our relationship to work and it just wasn’t worth it anymore. So we agreed to end things one last time and went our separate ways. My parents were supportive, they always are, but also worried because I’m 26. I should have found a mate by now and they thought that was Britt. But surprise surprise, it wasn’t. “Mr. O’Brien, you have one more meet and greet then you can head to your hotel for the day.” One of the assistants said, making me nod while I unscrewed the cap to the water bottle in front of me. I didn’t even bother to look over at the door when they opened and led the last fan inside. But I did look up, quickly might I add, when this scent hit my nose. I could feel something inside me begin to growl and grow, a very loud chant of ‘mine’ and ‘mate’ played inside my head as my eyes roamed over the figure in front of me, taking in every little detail I could before I finally met their eyes. Such beautiful y/e/c eyes. They were like gems and I would be happy to just stare at them all day and night, never growing bored. Before I could control it, I felt my own brown eyes shift and everything got a very faint red tint to my surroundings. Except for her. God, she was beautiful. I couldn’t stop thinking it. “H-Hi.” I managed to get out, quickly standing up and offering my hand to her, squeezing my eyes shut and shaking my head to try and get control over myself. Something inside me was screaming for me to just grab this woman and kiss her senseless. Throw her onto the table and make her scream while I filled her up and marked her neck. But that would be bad and judging from the surprised look on her face when she realized my eyes had flashed red for a moment, she wouldn’t really appreciate me fucking her senseless when I didn’t even know her name yet. “S-Sorry. Your eyes changing threw my off. I-I didn’t you were an alpha.” was the first thing she said to me as she walked over to the table, hips swaying faintly and I had to physically bite down on my tongue inside my mouth to make sure I didn’t audibly groan at the sight. It was something so small and perfectly natural yet it was making my dick strain against my jeans like a steel rod. And she didn’t even know it. “It’s alright. Normally I have control over it. Um, what’s your name?” I asked, swallowing thickly as her smaller hand was placed in my own and the warmth and comfort that rushed through my body the moment I touched her was indescribable. Every little fraction of stress, exhaustion, and worry vanished like it never existed when her skin was against my own. And that scent of her’s being this close was making my head feel heavy and foggy, like I was drowning but I never wanted it to stop. This woman was addictive and I loved it. Mine. She had to be mine. That’s all I cared about anymore. I needed her and I’d be damned if I didn’t have her. And judging from how hard my dick was pulsing inside my boxers, my body agreed. “Y/N. My name is Y/N.” She offered in that soft voice, her eyes seeming to have glazed over the moment she grabbed my hand. I watched as the tip of pink snuck out of her mouth and wet her lips, feeding that hunger inside of me to just launch forward and kiss her. Did she feel it too? That unfathomable hunger just eating away at every logical thought? “She’s the last meet and greet of the day, Dylan. And your driver will be here in about 10 minutes.” A voice interrupted, my hand tightening around hers for a fraction of a second before I was forced to let go and take a deep breath, which I instantly regretted because it just filled my lungs even more with that scent. “Right. Thank you, Jamie.” I replied a bit too sharply, noticing how Y/N got this worried expression on her face for a moment, as if able to tell how annoyed I was. But it was probably a good thing Jamie spoke up and reminded me that Y/N and I weren’t the only people in the room. Otherwise, a second longer of holding her hand and I probably would have tangled my other one in those perfect y/h/c locks of her, yanked her against me and shoved my tongue into her mouth to memorize every inch of it while finally getting a chance to taste her. And that would not have ended well. “I really don’t mean to sound rude when I say this, but are you an unclaimed Omega?” I blurted out without thinking, watching how her eyes widened a bit and her cheeks flushed cutely, making me lick my lower lip before tugging it between my teeth without even thinking about it. “Y-Yes. I am. I haven’t found the right person to be my mate...b-but why are you asking me that?” She asked, giving me this perplexed and almost nervous expression when she did. Fuck, I sounded like a creep didn’t I? “I just- I could smell- I didn’t mean to sound weird I was just-” I stuttered over my words, groaning as I ran a hand down my face. God I’m fucking idiot. Soon a soft giggle filled the room and my head snapped up, watching as she covered her mouth with the back of one of her hands and smiled brightly, eyes wrinkling at the sides. A small smile began to pull at my lips before I even knew it, my heart skipping a beat followed by a soft pitter patter before it full on thumped inside my chest like it wanted to explode. All from hearing that soft little giggle that sounded like music to my ears and I never wanted to stop listening to it. It could easily become my favorite song. “It’s alright, Dylan. I just didn’t think anyone could smell it, let alone you asking me about it.” She admitted and gave me a reassuring smile before she began to frown. Jamie mentioned we needed to wrap this up because my driver was going to arrive any second. I didn’t want to leave yet. Something was tugging at me, telling me to keep Y/N by my side but reality started to sink in and I knew that wouldn’t be possible. Maybe I could see her again but for now I did have to leave. “Well, I’m really glad I finally got to meet you.” She suddenly blurted, that blush rising to her cheeks once more. “I’ve admired you for years and always thought you were amazing. A bit of a two sided coin with your personality, but amazing nonetheless. I really hope you have fun the rest of the convention and I wish you all the luck with your upcoming roles!” She rambled out, smiling brightly at me as she did and that pitter patter feeling came back as my stomach twisted up in knots, but my dick throbbing like a damn pump when she simply smiled didn’t help my desire to stay next to her and hold her.

“Thank you, Y/N. That means a lot to me. Hopefully I’ll see you at future conventions?” I asked, smiling at her gently before hearing Jamie tell me it was time to leave.

Lord grant me something good because I had more than half a mind to whip around and actually growl at the damn woman. But I didn’t. I behaved. Shouldn’t I get a trophy for that? I felt small arms wrap around my stomach, every nerve in my body went insane. My dick was probably a solid pole at this point and I felt like I was about to cum in my jeans right then and there. This woman. Whoever the fuck she was. I think she just triggered my rut and judging from the smell I was getting off her, she was about to start a heat.

Without even thinking my arms wrapped around her much smaller frame, making it easy for me to bury my nose into her hair and take a deep breath. What I didn’t mean to do was fucking growl as I breathed out, my fingers digging into her a bit to keep a tight grip on her. When she pulled away enough to look up at me, I knew for a fact my eyes were red again and I was taking deep and uneven breaths, hands trembling against her back as I swallowed. I needed to get away from her before I do something I regret. “I-I’m sorry but I really need to go.” I forced out, giving her a smile and squeezing her shoulders, trying so hard to ignore that pleading and hunger look in her eyes as I turned away and practically rushed out the doors to meet with my driver.

That woman was mine. No matter what.

~

Your POV Rushing through the doors of the nearest bathroom, I was panting heavily and gasping for breath as I stumbled over to the sink, whining loudly as I gripped the edge of the counter, thighs clenched together in a desperate attempt for friction. Whatever happened in that meet and greet wasn’t normal. The entire time it felt like this fog was filling my head and all I could picture was stripping naked and begging him to fuck me senseless. And when he asked if I was unmarked and then that fucking growling. God he smelled so fucking delicious. A cry broke past my lips as I hunched over the counter, quickly turning on the sink and splashing my face with water. My stomach was twisting up so badly it was hurting more than I’ve ever experienced, knowing that whatever happened in that meet and greet, it sent my body into overdrive and triggered my heat far far earlier than was ever expected. I needed to get back to my hotel room and fast. But given how much pain I was in, plus all the attention I attracted as I made my way out of the convention hall by every single Alpha in the area because I reeked of slick that stained my thighs inside my jeans, it wasn’t an easy task. Thankfully there was a group of Beta women nearby that quickly realized what was happening and took it upon themselves to escort me back to my hotel room to ensure I was safe and didn’t get hurt along the way.

I couldn’t thank them enough as they got my hotel room door open and got me inside, gently laying me on my bed and telling me they hoped I was okay and that my mate, assuming I had one, could get to me fast enough to help me through my heat. If I wasn’t helped soon, I would need to be taken to the hospital again and that was going to be chaos once more. I don’t know how much time had passed since those girls left, and I honestly didn’t care. All I could focus on was trying to get my body temperature down and out of the slick stained clothes I had on. Wiggling around on the hotel bed, I managed to get completely stripped down and whined loudly when it didn’t help at all with the heat.

Rolling off the bed, stumbling steps got me to the bathroom and yanked the shower faucet up to as cold as it would go. I was about to step inside when I heard someone pounding on the hotel door like their life depended on it, making me both scared but for reason excited. My body screamed at me to let whoever was on the other side of that door in and just fuck them senseless. I craved it. Shaking my head, I yelled at them to leave and I wasn’t available at the moment but that only made them seem to pound on the door even harder. “Open the door!” The voice snapped and instantly I knew who it was, that tone being one I had grown to crave and love over the years. Why the fuck was Dylan here? How did he even know where my hotel room was? Did he follow me? That couldn’t be, I left after he did. Looking around I grabbed a bathrobe from a nearby hook and tied it on with shaking fingers, taking careful steps towards the door. “Dylan please leave! I’m s-sorry but I-I can’t!” I whimpered, laying my head against the wooden door, able to almost feel his body heat through it and wasn’t helping me at all. “Y/N, open the door, now.” He growled out, his voice so strong and commanding I couldn’t stop myself from complying. So I flipped the lock and opened the door. My back hit the wall with such a force it knocked the air from my lungs, my ears faintly picking up on the sound of the door slamming up. One hand was pressed against my collarbone to keep my against the wall while the other gripped my shoulder like it was the only life line it had. Red eyes bore down into my own, my breathing heavy and uneven as his scent just surrounded me and all I could focus on was him. Only him. Slick gushed down my thighs in a way that I swore I wet myself, knowing full well he could smell it judging from how his nostrils flared when he took a breath. “I didn’t what the fuck happened in that meeting but my fucking rut came at me stronger than I ever experienced.” He growled, voice so low and dark it made me whimper before I even realized that sound had come from me. “All I could image that entire time was just throwing you onto that table and fucking you so raw you wouldn’t be able to walk straight for weeks. Fill you up so many times the sensation of my cum dripping down those thighs of yours would haunt you and my teeth would leave so many marks on your pretty skin that no one would fucking dare even looking at you let alone try to touch you.” Dylan’s breath just as heavy and uneven as my own, his voice making me whine and claw at his shirt to try and have some kind of grounding. “When I finally got it. This powerful smell of your fucking heat when you got to the hotel, the same fucking floor as me god damn it, I knew. You’re mine. You understand me? You’re fucking mine. I knew when I saw you. You’re my mate. Only mine. And I’m gonna make sure it stays that way.”

His words made something inside me snap. I don’t know if it was from my heat induced haze or if it was from being in love with him for so many years. But I wasn’t about to deny him. My body was screaming for an Alpha. No. It wasn’t screaming for any Alpha. It was screaming for MY Alpha. Dylan. Dylan was my Alpha and I wanted to cry from the sheer joy of that information but I could do that later. Right now, I needed him. More than I needed air. “Alpha. Please.” That was all I was able to get out before his lips smashed against my own, it being all teeth and tongue, nothing romantic or gentle about it. This was raw hunger and desperation as his hands made quick work of the bathrobe and tore it from my body, a loud and deep growl of approval ripping from his chest before I could feel those strong and veiny hands I’ve fantasized about for so many years hook around the bottom of my thighs and force me to jump, wrapping my legs firmly around his hips. His lips attacked my throat and the top of my breasts, leaving a hickey anywhere he could reach as he walked over to my bed and shoved me down, keeping his body pressed against my own the entire time.

I knew this time wouldn’t be much of anything else except for him claiming me and satisfying both my heat and his rut. He wasted no time in undoing his belt and shoving both his pants and boxers down his thighs before yanking his t-shirt over his head. Seeing his chest, in person, was something I never thought would be possible. I felt no shame in running my palms over every inch of skin I could reach, listening to him moan and sigh in bliss at the feeling of me touching him. A gasp slipped out from my lips when he grabbed my thighs and spread them wide. “I’m sorry. I need it. I’ll make it up to you later.” That was all I heard before my scream filled the hotel room. His cock, long and thick which had been standing proud against his stomach just moments ago, bright red with precum soaking the tip; was now shoved all the way to the hilt inside of my pussy. The amount of slick I had been producing earlier made it more than easy for him to just slide inside and despite how horny and turned on I was, I could feel his cock spreading my walls wider than I’ve ever felt before. It was like he was going to split me in half and I fucking loved it. And apparently so did he judging from the loud groan of ‘You’re so fucking tight!’ that came from him as he gripped my hips so hard I knew there would be bruises in the morning. “Dylan!” I whined, tone begging and pleading for him to do something. Anything. And that’s exactly what I got. He began to snap his hips so hard and fast into me I was unable to keep up, just relishing in the feeling of his dick splitting me open and pounding into my dripping wet cunt like he needed it to live. “That’s right. Take my fucking cock, mate. Wish you could see it. How wall this pretty little pussy fits around my dick. I promise, I’ll ruin you for anyone else.” He growled into my ear as he kept up the unrelenting pace, growling in bliss each time I would scream ‘Alpha’ or ‘Dylan’ followed by my walls fluttering and milking his cock in an attempt to make him cum soon because I knew I wouldn’t be lasting much longer with the pace he had set. We were pressed together so tightly that his chest was keeping my own breasts from bouncing around widely each time he slammed inside of me, my legs locked around him near his ribs and I was sure my nails were leaving scratches so deep down his back that it was going to be bleeding and take weeks to heal. I could feel the burn between my breasts from his chest hair, loving the coarse feeling of it but not nearly as much as I loved feeling that scruff on my neck from where he was licking and biting at the flesh. “I’m not going to last much longer, mate. Come with me. Cum on my dick. Let me fill you up and mark you as mine. You belong to me. Say it. Who do you belong to?” It felt as though every single sentence he growled into my flesh made his thrusts become even rougher and deeper, making my eyes begin to roll in the back of my head while everything around me started to buzz and fade out until all that existed was him. Suddenly everything went white and I couldn’t faintly hear a loud scream of his name echo inside the room the moment I felt the tip of his cock hit that one little spot inside of me that made everything just stop. It took me a few seconds to realize that screaming I had heard was myself and he had hit my g-spot. It triggered an orgasm so powerful I had blacked out for a few seconds because when I got vision back and could focus, I heard a loud cry of my own name come from his lips before a sharp burning pain erupted inside my neck. He was as deep inside of me as he could go, his dick pulsing with every little stream of cum he released inside of me and I could feel it already began to push out and roll down the inside of my thighs because of how much he had cum. His tongue ran over a specific spot on my neck soothingly, as if trying to apologize. Our hearts were beating in sync as he stayed here he was, refusing to pull out of me as we both tried to catch our breath. That’s when it dawned on me. He just marked me. Forcing my eyes open, I could see those honey whiskey eyes looking down at me with such love and admiration that it almost made me want to cry, allowing me to bring my hand up to cup his jaw and brush my thumb along the line of moles on his cheek. No words were needed in that moment. We had both finally found each other and that’s all the matter.

The kiss we shared a heartbeat later just solidified that, all of our passion, relief, disbelief, and love was poured out into that one kiss. His lips fit so perfectly against my own that I swore I was dreaming but feeling his tongue lazily play with mine, the two sliding and pulling against each other so naturally it was like we had done this a thousand times before, I knew that it was real. He finally pulled away from me to take a deep breath, a soft hiss coming from both of us as he pulled his softened cock from my more than likely bruised folds, even more of his cum pushing out and dripping down onto the comforter below me. “Are you okay?” He finally spoke, looking at me with gentle eyes as he brushed the back of his fingers along my cheekbone, the action so tender and sweet it made me smile as I nodded. “I’m okay. Just exhausted and a bit sore.” I admitted, feeling him move our bodies so we could lie beneath the sheets, his arms locked around me so I could be cuddled against his chest as he peppered kisses into my hairline. “Get some rest. We can talk about this more when we wake up.” He whispered into my ear, his warm palm slowly going up and down my spine in a comforting manner and it brought a lazy smile to my lips as I closed my eyes and relaxed. “Okay.” was all I whispered in reply before feeling his hand squeeze my shoulder for a moment and then I was out like a light.

~

Dylan's POV

I couldn't help but keep my eyes on her as she slept curled up against me. The way her hips were curved beneath the blanket, how her right leg naturally tangled with my own, her face nuzzling her cheek against my chest as she smiled in her sleep. She was just so beautiful and I couldn't stop staring. I began to slowly run my fingers through her y/h/c locks as I thought over everything that happened today before my eyes landed on that fresh bite on her neck.

She was mine. My mate.

Not once had I ever felt such uncontrollable hunger or desperation for someone, not even Britt. The thought of marking Britt at times would actually make my stomach turn, telling me it was wrong and she wasn't the one. But this girl? Y/N? Seeing my mark on her made my chest swell up with so much happiness and pride, a giant grin playing on my lips before a small chuckle slipped as I ran my other hand through my disheveled hair.

I finally found my mate.

But when I looked down at her again, I couldn't help but frown because I realized I knew nothing about her and for all I know, I could have just taken advantage of an Omega and marked her without her wanting it. She said she was an unclaimed Omega but that doesn't mean she was single. What if she just cheated on her before? What if she feels like I forced her? Is she actually going to be okay?

All my thoughts instantly halted when I felt her soft fingertips brush through the curls on my chest, bringing waves of comfort and relaxation with every single pass on her hand. There was no point in worrying about it now, so I might as well get some rest.

Keeping one arm tucked under her head so my hand could lay on her ribs, my other arm draped itself across her hips and pressed my palm into her lower back, hugging her even closer to me as I close my eyes and let myself fall asleep with her in my arms.

~

It was the sound of one of our phones going off the hook that finally stirred us both awake, my ears picking up on her groaning in protest followed by a soft hiss of pain when she went to sit up. That made me instantly wide awake and I sat up like a spring, holding one hand out near her in worry while my eyes flickered across her face. Seeing her give me a gentle smile as if to say she was okay, I eased back and saw her reach down over the edge of the bed to dig around for whoever's phone was making the noise.

My eyes trailed down the curve of her back slowly, feeling a delicious burning on my own whenever I shifted or flexed, reminding me of just how hard she had been clawing at me the night before. Watching the sheet slide off her hips and present her asscheeks to me, I didn't bother to hide the soft groan that fell from my lips, one of my hands disappearing under the blankets to readjust my growing erection.

Her head lifted and those y/e/c eyes met my own before she slowly followed down my chest. I could see the way her small tongue flicked across her partially chapped lips before they began to approach my hips, the sheet just high enough to hide what she wanted to see but judging from how her gaze darkened when she saw me rubbing my growing cock, that didn't stop her.

“Are you seriously jacking yourself off?” She asked in both a teasing and surprised tone, having turned back to face me now.

It was such a beautiful sight. All those blue, red and purple marks littered across her y/s/c flesh, sticking out and screaming that she had crazy sex just a few hours ago. Her breasts rose and fell with every breath she took, her hands gripping the sheet that was loose around her waist and my black iPhone laid forgotten in her lap.

“I'm not even sorry. You're just so beautiful. The faintest inch of you is making me rock hard, baby girl.”

The woman seemed to blushed before she slowly moved closer to me, one hand next to my hip to hold herself up while the other began to run over my abs. Her touch was so light that if I wasn't watching it, I would think it was my imagination, especially since she was going slow as if to memorize what it felt like.

My free hand come up and slowly ran along her skin from her knee, trailing along the back of her thigh, over the curve of her ass and pausing to get a nice palmful as I squeezed. I continued up her spine, dancing my fingertips in small circles as I did before I finally tangled my hand into her beautiful and silky y/h/c locks.

A sigh of pleasure slipped out as I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall behind me, her much smaller hand wrapping shyly around my hard cock, the appendage pulsing at her touch. That soft little giggle I loved came from her and it made me smile but that soon faltered into a groan when she began to stroke me.

“A little tighter, baby girl. Yeah just like that.” I breathed out, bucking my hips slightly into her palm.

Seeing her move the blanket, my eyes remained locked on her face as she crawled over me so she was straddling my hips. Instinctively my hands went to her hips, eyebrows knitting together in slight confusion.

“I want to taste you.”

The way she said those words so innocently made my fingertips bite into her flesh and all I could manage was a small and tight nod at the thought, licking my dry lips. My dick throbbed as the idea of her pretty little mouth stroking it, sucking like it was candy.

Her lips trailed burning kisses down my neck and chest, a soft growl making it shake from the sensation of her kisses. Already it felt like she was teasing me too much

~

Your POV

It didn't take much time for me to get down to his hip bones, holding back a soft moan when I playfully ran my tongue along the faint v-line he had. Teeth nipped at the skin, smirking when his hips would jostle up and twitch at the sensation before fingers lost themselves in my hair. Glancing over his chest, I could see the dark purple marks already forming on his body from where I had paused to lick and suck at him. Marking him the only way I knew how.

“You don't need to do this.” was all I heard from him at first, his voice sounding wrecked and needy, the complete opposite of his words.

“I want to. I want to memorize every inch of you.” I whispered in reply, crawling back up his body slowly when I felt one of his long digits hook beneath my chin to pull me back towards him.

“And you will. You're never leaving my side. But all I care about, if I'm being honest, is getting my fill of you. I need to be inside you again. Feeling those tight walls just hugging me.” He rasped, his lips pressing to my own so softly and lovingly I swore it was like kissing a cloud.

I let him spread my thighs apart and place me on his lap, the bright red head of his cock brushing through my already drenched folds. My lower lips fluttered at the sensation while my walls clenched around nothing, telling me it desperately wanted him buried deep inside me all over again.

When he began to guide my hips to lower myself on him, our eyes never breaking their hold, I couldn't stop the gasp that knocked the air from my lungs. His cock stretched out my walls so deliciously, sliding inside without no resistance at all due to how much slick I had produced between waking up and now. Each curve, throb, and vein on his dick was pressed against my core like I was a second skin on him, leaving me so filled and so amazed. It was like finding that final piece of a puzzle.

“You're so fucking tight still. My god.” He hissed out, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I knew his nails were leaving bruises in their wake.

“You fill me so perfectly, mate. So big and thick. It's so good.” I moaned out, rubbing my fingers through that patch of hair between his pecs, enjoying the rough curls against my skin.

“And I'm going to be the only on to fill you, baby girl. No one else will ever get to feel your pussy hugging them like this. Ever again, you hear me.” he growled, letting me set the pace as my hips started to slowly rock.

Each roll of my hips allowed me to feel him dragging against my walls, that burning of his cock stretching me out beginning to fade as I grew used to it. It didn't take long for him to begin to take control, snapping his hips up each time I would roll back, shoving him even deeper inside me. Each pass I could feel the head tapping so deeply, a place no one else has ever reached before; and in the process of that movement he always found my g-spot.

The moans that poured from my lips were almost animalistic, begging him to never stop. His hands traced every little inch of skin he could reach, mapping and memorizing each bump, curve, dimple, freckle- all of it. Like I was the most beautiful glass statue.

His lips left even more marks in their wake on my breasts, not caring that they were bouncing wildly with each thrust of his cock inside of me. I tried to keep my eyes open, wanting to memorize the way his face was twisted up in such blissful pleasure, panting hotly against my skin as he refused to stop.

“Oh fuck baby girl! I'm not going to last!” He hissed, nipping at the front of my throat before pulling me into a sloppy kiss, teeth and tongues battling while saliva dripped down the corners of our mouths. A thick string kept our tongues connected when he broke the kiss to moan out my name, feeling how his thrusts were beginning to get uneven.

Next thing I knew, that coil in my lower stomach that had been getting tighter and tighter snapped without any warning the moment his fingertips pinched my clit, a scream of his name being echoed shameless inside my hotel room. I felt his teeth lock around his mating mark on my neck and groaned loudly as he stopped thrusting, pressing as deeply inside of me as he physically could. My walls fluttered and killed his cock for all it was worth, feeling him pulsing as streams of his cum coated my walls before slowly dripping out, rolling over his drawn up balls and landing on the sheets beneath us.

Panting heavily, I felt him lay me on my back after pulling out of me, whispering sweet nothings into my ear as he spooned me from behind. The heat radiating off his chest and into my skin was the most comforting thing I've ever experienced, a tired smile gracing my lips when his brushed against the mark that proved I belonged to him.

“I'm never letting you go…” he whispered into my ear, our hands laced together over my heart.

And he didn't.

~

1 Year Later

“Babe come on! We're going to be late if you don't get your cute ass down here!” Dylan's voice called from the living room, making me roll my eyes before finishing up the last touches of my lip stick.

“Patience is a virtue, Dylan.” I teased as I made my way down the stairs to meet him, smiling widely at the sight of him in that black suit I loved so much, hugging all his muscles and curves in a way that should be illegal.

“I don't want my first time going out with your folks as an engaged couple being a bad one because their daughter decided to take her sweet time.” He teased but the smile on his lips told me he didn't mind a single bit. Especially when I noticed those whiskey orbs flash red as they trailed over the skin tight purple dress I wore. He always was a sucker for his favorite color.

“They love you, Dylan and they know how high maintains I can get about wanting to look good on your arm.” I replied smoothly, feeling him place his hand on my lower back to escort me out the door.

“You always look amazing. You don't need to worry about that.” He whispered, lifting my left hand up and placing a delicate kiss on the ring that shined on my finger, the sight always making my heart skip a beat.

“I love you.” I whispered, pure passion in my tone as the words roll off my tongue.

“And I love you.” He replied with a shit eating grin, placing a promising kiss to my lips before we both got into the car and drove off.

This was my happy ending with Dylan O’Brien as my mate, because we both knew when we saw each other that our wait was finally over and we could be happy.

Hollywood star Simon Baker said he had no acting ambitions at first

April 28, 2018

Thank you  @YohkoTheHunter

Huge Interview ahead >>

He was working as a pool attendant at the newly opened Sanctuary Cove resort. Any spare time, any spare thought, was spent chasing waves on the Gold Coast, and crashing with his surfie mates at their fibro shack which backed on to the beach at Surfers Paradise. It was the twilight of the 1980s and Simon Baker, a carefree school graduate, had no idea, and no real cares, about what lay ahead.

“No, no, no, I didn’t have any acting dreams,” the now 48-year-old father-of-three insists when U on Sunday sits down with him at the plush QT Hotel in Surfers Paradise for a chat about his latest film, Breath, based on Tim Winton’s novel.

It’s about 30 years since Baker lived here. In the interim, his ruggedly handsome face, sharp blue eyes and self-deprecating smile have taken him all the way to Hollywood Boulevard, where he has his own star on the sidewalk; and seen him receive critical acclaim, and an adoring fan base for his movie roles (Red Planet,The Devil Wears Prada and Margin Call) and television gigs (The Guardian, and his most famous role as maverick police consultant Patrick Jane on The Mentalist).

Not surprisingly, this same natural charm led to Baker’s first acting opportunity which came by accident rather than by design. And it happened in Brisbane.

“We were going camping,” he says, setting up the story of how he and a mate were driving up from the Coast when his friend said they had to make a slight detour into Brisbane because he had an audition for a TV ad.

“My friend told me I could wait in the car or come in and hang out; so I came into the waiting room and the casting woman came in with a clipboard and said to me ‘Have you signed in’ and I said: ‘Oh no, I’m just here with a friend’, and she said, ‘why don’t you sign in and go in’.

“I had never done drama or improvisation before. I was used to knocking around with my mates – a bit of jive talk on the beach, on the streets, that’s all,’’ he laughs.

Needless to say he got the gig. Two years later he landed a job on the Australian TV soapie E Street (“I wasn’t trying for it,’’ he again insists) playing fresh-faced Constable Sam Farrell. It was on that series that he met his future wife, Gold Coast-raised actor Rebecca Rigg.

Baker apologises in advance for eating during our chat. His mop of boyish golden-curled hair and grey flecked-stubble is lit with a wide grin, and deep laugh before he proceeds to wolf down a salad wrap and some fruit pieces. He is refuelling after making the most of a rare break from promotional duties at last week’s Queensland premiere of Breath at the Gold Coast Film Festival, to catch up for “a quick paddle with the boys’’.

The boys are Samson Coulter and Ben Spence who play the lead roles of Pikelet, 13, and Loonie, 14, in the film. Baker co-wrote, co-produced and co-stars in Breath which is also his directorial debut.

As a father of two teenage boys himself, Baker has developed a strong bond with his young proteges with Coulter from Sydney and Spence from Western Australia.

Baker’s own family are never far from his mind, and, at an exclusive U on Sundayphoto shoot earlier at Burleigh Heads, he was keen to capture a shot of the stunning beach scene to show his tribe at home. He celebrates 20 years of marriage this year to Rigg and the couple has three children, Stella Breeze, 24, Claude Blue, 19, and Harry Friday, 16.

He says all of his children go for a “paddle now and then’’ but it is his youngest Harry, who has inherited his father’s passion for surfing.

“It’s a great joy in seeing him (Harry) surf and catch waves,’’ he explains. “I like seeing him gain trust and physical confidence in himself; to trust his wits in certain situations, because that is what a lot of what surfing teaches you.’’

Baker explains he tries to find the right balance between encouraging Harry and ensuring he doesn’t pressure his son to tackle challenging waves he is not yet ready for, because “you can’t push them into those things’’. He says it is important that Harry develops his surfing skills at his own pace.

This caring fatherly approach is the opposite pathway taken by his character “Sando’’ in the coming of age film Breath. The adrenaline-junkie Sando is former world professional surfing star Bill Sanderson who becomes like a “guru’’ to his “wide-eyed disciples’’ Bruce “Pikelet” Pike and best friend Ivan “Loonie” Loon.

Pikelet and Loonie, under the tutelage of Sando, learn to surf increasingly bigger and more dangerous monster waves as Sando conditions their minds and bodies to pursue the extraordinary. Pikelet’s parents, played by Richard Roxburgh and Rachael Blake, remain oblivious to their son’s adventures, as Sando lures, even bullies, them on his increasingly perilous missions.

Roxburgh says Baker is a natural director, and an excellent mentor to the young novice actors.

“I was attracted to working with Simon because I’ve always thought he was a lovely bloke, a terrific actor, and I thought he would work really well with the young actors,’’ he says.

Roxburgh says his role as the staid and reserved father becomes a counterpoint to Baker’s risk-taking and larger-than-life Sando.

“My character is part of the domestic backdrop, I’m often at the garden shed, being very kindly and terribly worried about my son’s wellbeing. I know something is wrong, but I cannot identify it,’’ Roxburgh says.

When Sando and Loonie go overseas on a big-wave excursion, an unsettled Pikelet starts spending unhealthy periods of time alone with Sando’s headstrong wife Eva (Elizabeth Debecki), who carries a permanent knee injury from competitive aerial skiing.

“The film is about the anguish of parenting, of being a parent and watching your son moving and shifting away, being pulled away from you in this strong current and the terrible fear that goes with that,’’ Roxburgh says.

It took Sydney-based Baker a year to cast the two leading actors after a social media call-out to competent surfers netted thousands of entries from around the country including many from Queensland’s Gold Coast and Sunshine Coast.

Baker, who did much of his own surfing, is surprised that Winton envisaged him as Sando for the film version of his 2009 Miles Franklin Award winner and much-loved bestseller.

“I suppose I don’t know too many actors who surf, there’s a few that have a paddle,’’ Baker says. “I’m at that point, where it is sort of getting sad, because my body is not keeping up with what my heart and mind want to do, sometimes it’s humiliating and sometimes it’s exhilarating.’’

When producing partner Mark Johnson (Breaking Bad) gave Baker the novel to read in 2015 he was immediately smitten and secretly harboured dreams to direct a film adaptation. Baker has directed several episodes of his television shows, including The Mentalist, over the years.

“We started meeting with a few different directors and started developing the script and at one point Mark turned around and literally said ‘has it occurred to you, that you should direct this film’ and I said ‘Yes’,’’ Baker says.

He did have doubts and he worried about time constraints, but then his seven-year contract on The Mentalist ended.

He has devoted several years to bringing the film to the screen including extensive scouting of the Western Australia coast, where the novel is set, and finding the perfect locations on the southern coastline at Denmark and Ocean Beach.

Baker enlisted “colourful’’ Brisbane-based screenwriter Gerard Lee (Top of the Lake) to help with the film script.

“I knew I had to reduce it down to certain key thematic moments and hone in on those and the story, I had to let go of the book in a lot of ways,’’ he says.

Tasmanian-born Baker sees some similarities with his own childhood, growing up in Lennox Heads, on the northern NSW coast, and spending plenty of time at the beach with his surfing buddies. The former Ballina High School student admits he was more like the reserved and restrained Pikelet than the confident and thrillseeking Loonie or Sando.

“I grew up riding around with a pushbike with my mates, discovering the ocean and surfing,’’ Baker says. “There are a lot of parallels there with the book but there are obvious parallels with a lot of people who grew up in Australia.’’

Roxburgh agrees: “Tim Winton can really write about water, especially about the nature of water: what it is; what it does for us; and what it is to be with it; and to live with such a passion for it.’’

It was while growing up that Baker first developed a love for going to the movies.

“As a kid I would go to see a movie and I would be instantly transported by the story and characters. You go, ‘oh wow, I would like to do that one day’,’’ he says.

The 1957 American classic Old Yeller, about a young boy and his ill-fated dog, profoundly affected him as a Year 3 student.

“It’s funny because I watched Old Yeller with my kids 10 years ago and they were saying ‘why are you making us watch this?’,’’ he says. “It’s so heartbreaking and powerful. I can track back the emotional impact that cinema has had on me over the years to that point.

“I still get so excited about going to the movies, getting a choc-top, sitting in that dark room and letting a film take me away.’’

Baker grew up as Simon Denny – the name of his stepfather – but changed it to Simon Denny Baker after reuniting with his birth father as an adult. He later dropped the Denny part.

In 1993 he won the Logie for most popular new talent and then appeared in Home and Away (as James Hudson: 1993-1994) and Heartbreak High (as Tom Summers: 1996).

Baker and Rigg – who married in 1998 after five years of living together – decided to try their luck in the US, which became their base for 18 years.

Soon after arriving, he landed a role as troubled gay actor Matt Reynolds in the Oscar-winning LA Confidential (1998) and a couple of years later snared the key role of lawyer Nick Fallin in the television series The Guardian (2001-2004).

But it was his role as the cheeky and sharp-minded former conman Patrick Jane on The Mentalist (2008-15) which saw an astronomic popularity rise, especially among women. It was rumoured he signed a contract that delivered a payment of $US30 million for his role as Jane. Some 17 million watched the final episode of The Mentalist in the US alone.

His rising profile also led to contracts promoting prestigious French perfume house Givenchy as well as Longines watches.

“I take my hat off to Simon, and others, who have moved to America and have achieved over there,’’ Roxburgh says.

For Baker, his focus is not on the past but on the future, and that continues to look bright with the actor recently optioning Winton’s latest novel The Shepherd’s Hut.

“You should read it,’’ suggests Baker, flashing that trademark winning smile once more.

Some Life Philosophy

Often I use this as an outlet to express my thoughts and feelings when I’m going through a depressed cycle so I don’t share them under my actual identity. But today (also being in a semi-manic cycle the last week, the one upside to bipolar lol) I wanted to share some positive things.

I have really began adhering to the philosophy that you can only control what you can control. When you give your best effort and a positive approach to what you can control, the things that you can’t control seem to have more favorable outcomes. A lot of things I did this week re-enforced that this is a healthy and productive approach to life. Things aren’t exactly ideal, but there are steps in place based on my actions that will lead to a better future. I’m not espousing some “law of attraction” pseudoscience bullshit- I do think good things happen to you when you have a positive outlook. But you also have to take responsibility to act, speak and put in the hard work. Good things aren’t just going to come to you because you’re thinking good thoughts. Put in the work and control what you can control. The rest is out of your hands.

Another thing- I have a friend who seems to be internalizing some very negative left-wing perspectives and even, to my shock, mentioned how right wing I was. I don’t have a label for my political views as I base my views primarily on logic and science and neither side of the spectrum would encompass that. But as a generalization, I’m quite liberal- I am extremely thankful that I am a Canadian born citizen so, despite having some serious mental and physical health issues and coming from a working poor family, my healthcare is free and I had the opportunity to do post-secondary education I likely wouldn’t have had as an American citizen. I’m thrilled Canada is legalizing marijuana, not that we were ever really strict about it up here anyway, but as both a medical and recreational user of marijuana, it’s nice to be able to walk into a dispensary and get the right strain for my needs. I believe in affordable education, diversity and respect for others. I am very much a straight, cis hetero female (like talking 0 on the Kinsey scale, I’ve never even had a single sexual fantasy or dream about a woman and I’m 30) But I have LGBT friends, a couple who are trying to change the politics and treatment of LGBT people that I try to help with my skills of writing and rhetoric to achieve their goals. I’ll admit, I don’t fully understand transgenderism (I can’t conceive in my mind how one would feel born with the wrong biological gender) but that’s obviously my confusion because of my experience as a 100% straight cis person. I still treat transgender people with respect, use their preferred pronouns and ask appropriate questions to try to develop my understanding better. 

My friend seems to be buying into the “two sides” division I think is a bigger problem in society than some see. When you say that you wish someone would hit Jordan Peterson with a truck, you’re engaging in the same rhetoric as the “alt-right” you denounce- hypocrisy, for me, is one of the most maddening qualities I see in society today. One side criticizes the other using inflammatory, divisive rhetoric, and the other side does the same thing without seeing the hypocrisy of their behavior. I will not participate in that. I will admit, I do say some things on Trump’s Twitter- but they are written using a rhetoric very similar to what I’m using writing this, so despite some of my comments getting 100+ likes, even the few negative comments I’ve gotten are either clearly a bot account, or, when I respond, they have nothing else to say. I’ve never been called a bitch or any derogatory name and I strongly feel it’s because of the language I use. One of the few extremely right-wing friends of mine even said recently, “getting into a debate with you is like Superman trying to face kryptonite”. I don’t say anything under my public identity that I can’t stand by and explain. Even here, while I’d rather people not know about the depths of my mental health struggles or that I write some R-rated Rick Sanchez fanfiction, I can stand by that too. I’d just prefer not to have to, hence why I have this account. In these discussions with him, I’ve been just trying to shape my rhetoric as I do in all my social media accounts now and point out the hypocrisies in his speech, like the Jordan Peterson remark, in a way that doesn’t make him defensive. We’ve been friends for more than 15 years now and he is usually well-spoken aside from the emotional rhetoric politics seems to be bringing out in him, so the discussions are productive for both of us, to help each other see the other person’s point of view without going on the defensive. We live in different cities so I can’t say for sure, but I suspect either his coworkers or circle of friends is shaping his current views and I hope he can eventually see that none of us go through this journey of life alone, so rather than getting angry and insulting those who disagree with you, find a way to work with them. We achieve more together than we do divided.

Based on both how much I excelled in the graduate program I just recently completed and re-reading my own words on a variety of topics and platforms, I’m starting to see that, if my goal is to help as many people as possible, that I should take the time now and continue to work on myself and my goals, but that in the future, at least ten years from now, running for political office is a realistic goal for me. I have grown immensely as a human being between the ages of 20-30, so I know that while I’m trying to be my “best self” now, my best self is going to keep getting better and better. When I talk about my “vision”, I can actually articulate what that means instead of using catchphrases and platitudes. I’m an excellent writer and public speaker and I can connect with a variety of different people. Especially since I presume the political climate will be much different in 10+ years, public office is a realistic goal for me. For now, I have to put more work in to make that a reality for my future. 

Going through my various writings this morning, I re-read the Rick Sanchez fanfictions I write, as I mentioned under a pseudonym, and I was actually struck by how well-written they were. The commenters on AO3 seemed to agree haha, but from my point of view, I am absolutely a writer. No grammatical errors, the narrative flowed and even Rick’s dialogue sounded like it could have came from the show. It’s kind of funny that some of my quality writing that’s been read by ~3000 people already will never be known to have been written by the “real” me.

Well, I had a very positive and productive week so I am taking the thunderstorms as a sign that I can relax today and have a lazy day around the house watching baseball or doing some writing or whatever I want. I hope to keep having weeks like this in the future- I understand the reality of bipolar is that I will always “cycle” but back to the mantra of “you can only control what you can control”- I can take care of my body and mind, take my medication properly (it’s an off-label bipolar med because a lot of traditional bipolar meds have weight gain as a side effect and one I tried had me gain 30+ lbs in 3 months when I was a very skinny person before that, hence why I still have manic cycles) and control my words and message on all social media platforms. This has helped immensely in reducing the length and severity of my depressed cycles. I have come to terms with the fact that bipolar is a reality for me- and applying my life philosophy to make the best of that reality.